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bratzkoo · 2 months ago

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yours, always and forever | jeonghan

Author: bratzkoo | beta read by: @spnyin Pairing: perfumer! jeonghan x estrange wife! reader Genre: fluff, angst Rating: PG-15 Word count: 5.9k Warnings/note: went on a shopping trip with my mom and i cried when i smelled rose kabuki by dior. Happy National Boyfriend's Day to our boyfriend, Jeonghan.

summary: Perfumer Yoon Jeonghan took the Perfume industry by storm with his intriguing perfume names that seems to be inspired by one specific person which makes the industry question, who is he even naming his creations after? Only Y/N, Jeonghan’s estrange wife knows the answer.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @escoupseu , @yanabaaaaaaarysheva , @spnyin , @sousydive , @gyuguys , @gyubakeries

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

The soft glow of the setting sun painted the New York skyline in hues of gold and pink, a stark contrast to the sleek, modern interior of the penthouse apartment where Yoon Jeonghan stood, gazing out at the city he'd conquered. In his hand, a delicate crystal glass held a swirl of amber liquid, its aroma mingling with the lingering scents that always clung to him—a symphony of olfactory notes that had become his signature.

Jeonghan took a sip of his drink, savoring the burn as it slid down his throat. His eyes, dark and intense, reflected the city lights beginning to twinkle in the twilight. At thirty-two, he was at the pinnacle of his career, a prodigy in the world of perfumery, and the toast of the fashion and beauty industries. For the third year in a row, the title of Perfumer of the Year sat comfortably on his shoulders, a crown he wore with a mixture of pride and nonchalance that only added to his allure.

The gentle ping of his phone drew his attention away from the view. Another congratulatory message, no doubt. They had been pouring in all day, ever since the announcement of his latest triumph. Jeonghan ignored it, choosing instead to walk over to his workspace—a sprawling, custom-designed lab that took up nearly half of his living area.

Here, amidst the orderly chaos of beakers, pipettes, and countless vials of essences and extracts, was where the magic happened. This was where he crafted the scents that had taken the world by storm, perfumes that didn't just smell divine but told stories, evoked memories, and stirred emotions in ways that left critics and consumers alike in awe.

Jeonghan's fingers trailed over the labels of his latest collection, a small smile playing on his lips as he read each name aloud:

"You, in the Garden."

"You, in Greece."

"You, in the Club Holding Your Favorite Drink."

"You, in New York."

Each name was a whisper of the past, a fragment of a story that the public could only guess at. And guess they did. Entire forums were dedicated to deciphering the meaning behind Jeonghan's enigmatic perfume names. Who was this mysterious 'you'? A lover? A muse? A figment of the perfumer's vivid imagination?

Speculation ran rampant. Some theorized it was a marketing ploy, a clever way to personalize each scent for the wearer. Others believed Jeonghan was leaving breadcrumbs, telling his own story through these olfactory chapters. The more romantic souls insisted it was an ode to a lost love, each perfume a memory crystallized in scent.

If only they knew.

Jeonghan's smile faded as he picked up the bottle of "You, in New York." The weight of it in his hand felt heavier than it should, laden with memories he both cherished and tried to forget. He uncapped it, bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply.

Notes of crisp apple and bergamot gave way to a heart of rose and jasmine, grounded by a base of sandalwood and vanilla. But beneath these carefully orchestrated notes lay something else, something only he could detect—the ghost of her perfume, the one she wore on that last night.

Across the city, in a modest but charming brownstone in Brooklyn, Y/N sat cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by discarded wrapping paper and birthday cards. The celebration had been small but joyful, a gathering of the close friends who had become her support system over the past few years. As the night wound down and the last guest departed, she found herself alone with her thoughts and the pile of gifts yet to be properly examined.

One box in particular caught her eye. It was elegant, wrapped in matte black paper with a single silver ribbon. There was no card, no indication of who it was from. Curiosity piqued, Y/N carefully untied the ribbon and peeled back the paper.

Her breath caught in her throat as she revealed the contents. Nestled in a bed of black satin was a bottle she recognized all too well, even though she had never held it before. The clean lines of the glass, the minimalist label with its distinctive handwritten font—it was unmistakably one of Jeonghan's creations.

With trembling hands, Y/N lifted the bottle. "You, in New York," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. A humorless laugh escaped her lips. How fitting, how cruelly ironic that of all his perfumes, this would be the one to find its way to her.

New York. The city where dreams came true and hearts were broken. The city where, five years ago, she had celebrated her last birthday with Jeonghan. It had been magical—a surprise weekend getaway, a whirlwind of Broadway shows, candlelit dinners, and long walks through Central Park. It was the last time she remembered feeling truly, incandescently happy.

It was also the weekend that marked the beginning of the end.

Y/N uncapped the bottle, hesitating for just a moment before bringing it to her nose. The scent hit her like a wave, transporting her instantly back to that weekend. She could almost feel the crisp autumn air on her skin, hear the bustling streets, see Jeonghan's smile as he pulled her close on top of the Empire State Building.

Unbidden, tears began to fall, leaving glistening trails down her cheeks. Five years. Five years since she had spoken to him, seen him, been in the same room as him. And yet, with one carefully crafted scent, he could still reach across that divide and touch her very soul.

They weren't divorced—the paperwork sat untouched in a drawer in her study, a task neither of them seemed able to bring themselves to complete. But they might as well have been strangers for all the communication that passed between them. Estranged was the word the media used when they bothered to mention her at all. Jeonghan's mysterious wife, who had disappeared from the public eye as swiftly and suddenly as Jeonghan had risen to fame.

Y/N set the bottle on her nightstand, unable to put it away but unwilling to hold it any longer. She reached for her phone, scrolling through the countless birthday messages until she found the one she was looking for. It was from her best friend, Mina:

"Hey birthday girl! Hope you loved all your gifts. That last one... the perfume. I hope it wasn't too much. When I saw it, I just thought... well, maybe it was time. You can't run from the past forever, Y/N. Call me if you need to talk. Love you!"

So it had been Mina. Y/N wasn't sure whether to thank her friend or curse her for this unexpected trip down memory lane. She fell back onto her pillows, staring at the ceiling as her mind raced.

Did Jeonghan know his perfume had found its way to her? Did he still think of her when he created these scents? Was she the 'you' in every bottle, or had someone else taken her place in his heart and his art?

Questions she had buried for years bubbled to the surface, demanding attention. Y/N closed her eyes, willing sleep to come and provide a temporary escape. But the scent of "You, in New York" lingered in the air, a persistent reminder of all that had been and all that was lost.

Meanwhile, in his penthouse, Jeonghan had moved from his lab to his home office. The wall opposite his desk was covered in framed magazine covers and articles, a testament to his meteoric rise in the industry. His eyes, however, were fixed on a single frame tucked away in the corner of his desk. It was turned face down, but he knew every detail of the photograph it held—him and Y/N, laughing and in love, on their wedding day.

He reached for it, hesitating for a moment before picking it up and turning it over. They looked so young, so full of hope and dreams. Jeonghan traced the outline of Y/N's face with his finger, wondering not for the first time where she was, what she was doing, if she ever thought of him.

A notification on his computer screen drew his attention. It was an email from his publicist, marked urgent:

"Jeonghan,

The press is buzzing about your win and the launch of 'You, in New York.' Vogue wants an exclusive interview, and they're particularly interested in the inspiration behind your perfume names. I've held them off so far, but we need to give them something. The mysterious artist angle only works for so long.

Also, there's been some renewed interest in your personal life. A few gossip blogs have dug up old photos of you and Y/N. Nothing scandalous, but we should be prepared for questions.

Let me know how you want to handle this.

- Somin"

Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, a frown creasing his brow. He had known this day would come eventually. The perfume industry thrived on stories, on the personalities behind the scents. He had managed to maintain an air of mystery for years, letting his creations speak for themselves. But now, with his continued success and the increasingly personal nature of his perfume names, the world wanted more.

How could he possibly explain the truth? That each perfume was a love letter, a memory, a piece of his heart poured into a bottle? That 'You, in the Garden' was born from lazy Sunday mornings spent in their tiny apartment's rooftop garden, Y/N's laughter mingling with the scent of herbs and flowers? That 'You, in Greece' captured the essence of their honeymoon, sun-kissed skin and salty air and the intoxicating feeling of being young and in love?

And 'You, in New York'... Jeonghan's gaze drifted back to the photograph. Their last happy moment, preserved in glass and scent. He had poured every ounce of his skill into that perfume, trying to capture not just the smells of the city, but the feeling of that weekend—the joy, the love, and the bittersweet edge of what was to come.

He picked up his phone, thumb hovering over Y/N's contact. He hadn't deleted it, couldn't bring himself to erase that last tangible connection. But he hadn't used it either, not in five long years. What would he even say?

"I'm sorry"?

"I miss you"?

"Every scent I create is a desperate attempt to hold onto the memory of us"?

Jeonghan set the phone down, leaving the call unmade. Instead, he turned back to his computer and began to type a response to his publicist:

"Somin,

Set up the Vogue interview. I'll give them the story they want.

As for my personal life, it remains personal. No comments on old photos or relationships.

- Jeonghan"

He hit send before he could second-guess himself. It was time to give the public a peek behind the curtain, to feed the curiosity that had been building for years. He would craft a story, something romantic and mysterious enough to satisfy the masses without revealing the raw, painful truth.

After all, isn't that what he did best? Create beautiful illusions, capture feelings in a bottle, tell stories through scent? This would just be another performance, another carefully constructed facade.

But as Jeonghan stood to pour himself another drink, his eyes fell once more on the photograph of him and Y/N. For a moment, the mask slipped, and a look of profound sadness crossed his face. All the success, all the accolades, all the adoration from fans around the world—none of it filled the Y/N-shaped hole in his heart.

In the quiet of his luxurious apartment, surrounded by the fruits of his success, Yoon Jeonghan—three-time Perfumer of the Year, creator of the most sought-after fragrances in the world—had never felt more alone.

As the night deepened, two souls on opposite sides of the city lay awake, each haunted by memories and might-have-beens. The scent of "You, in New York" lingered in the air, a fragrant bridge across the chasm that separated them. Neither knew that this birthday, this perfume, this moment of remembrance, was about to set in motion a chain of events that would force them to confront their past and decide their future.

The sleek, modernist interior of Vogue's New York office buzzed with nervous energy as staff scurried about, making last-minute preparations. Today was no ordinary day—they were about to interview Yoon Jeonghan, the enigmatic perfumer who had captivated the fashion world with his mysterious creations.

Jeonghan sat in the makeup chair, his eyes closed as the artist applied a light touch of powder to his already flawless skin. He exuded an aura of calm, but beneath the surface, his mind raced. This interview was a calculated risk, a chance to satisfy the public's curiosity while maintaining the mystique that had become his trademark.

"Mr. Yoon, we're ready for you," a young assistant called, clipboard clutched to her chest.

Jeonghan opened his eyes, meeting his reflection in the mirror. He adjusted his tie—a deep, midnight blue that brought out the intensity of his gaze—and stood. With a deep breath, he stepped into the lion's den.

The interviewer, a sharp-eyed woman named Clara, greeted him with a professional smile. "Mr. Yoon, thank you for joining us. Shall we begin?"

As the cameras rolled, Clara launched into her questions, starting with the safe and expected before gradually probing deeper.

"Your latest fragrance, 'You, in New York,' has taken the world by storm," Clara said, leaning forward slightly. "Can you tell us about the inspiration behind it?"

Jeonghan's lips curved into a small smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "New York is a city of dreams and memories," he began, his voice smooth and measured. "I wanted to capture the essence of a perfect moment in time—the crisp air of a fall evening, the excitement of possibility, the bittersweet beauty of a fleeting experience."

"And the 'you' in the title?" Clara pressed. "Your fragrances all seem to be addressing someone specific. Is there a story there?"

For a fraction of a second, Jeonghan's composure slipped. A flicker of something—pain? longing?—crossed his face before the mask slid back into place. "The 'you' is everyone and no one," he said carefully. "It's the wearer of the perfume, the object of desire, the memory of a love lost or yet to be found. I believe that the most personal stories are often the most universal."

As the interview continued, Jeonghan wove a tale of inspiration drawn from travels, fleeting encounters, and imagined romances. It was a beautiful story, crafted as carefully as his perfumes. But those who knew him best might have noticed the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers occasionally twitched as if reaching for something—or someone—just out of grasp.

---

The publication of the Vogue interview sent shockwaves through the fashion and beauty world. Social media exploded with theories and interpretations of Jeonghan's words. Fan forums dissected every sentence, looking for hidden meanings and clues about the mysterious muse behind his creations.

@ScentObsessed tweeted: "OMG, did you catch how his voice changed when talking about 'You, in New York'? There's definitely a real story there! #YoonJeonghan #PerfumeMystery"

A popular beauty vlogger released a 20-minute video analyzing Jeonghan's body language during the interview, claiming to have spotted at least five instances where he seemed to be holding back tears.

Even serious fashion critics couldn't resist speculating. A piece in WWD posed the question: "Is Yoon Jeonghan's entire oeuvre an olfactory autobiography? The clues hidden in his fragrances."

---

Across the city, Y/N sat at her kitchen table, a cup of coffee growing cold beside her as she stared at her laptop screen. The Vogue article was open, Jeonghan's face looking back at her from a series of artfully shot photographs.

She had promised herself she wouldn't read it. Had sworn she was past all this, that she had moved on. But curiosity—and perhaps something deeper, something she wasn't ready to name—had gotten the better of her.

Now, as she read his carefully crafted words, Y/N felt a complex mix of emotions churning inside her. Anger at the half-truths, sadness at the memories his words evoked, and a traitorous flutter of her heart at the moments where she could see through his facade to the man she once knew so well.

A knock at the door startled her out of her reverie. Y/N closed the laptop quickly, as if hiding evidence of a crime, before going to answer.

"Ms. Y/N?" A woman with a press badge stood in the hallway, notepad in hand. "I'm Mia from Style Weekly. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions about Yoon Jeonghan's latest interview."

Y/N felt the blood drain from her face. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about," she said, moving to close the door.

The reporter's foot blocked the doorway. "Please, just a moment. Your connection to Mr. Yoon is a matter of public record. Surely you must have some insight into the inspirations behind his work?"

"No comment," Y/N managed, her voice strangled. She pushed the door closed with more force, hearing the reporter's muffled protests from the other side.

Leaning against the door, Y/N slid to the floor, her heart pounding. It was happening again. The life she had carefully rebuilt, separate from Jeonghan and his world of glitz and glamour, was threatening to crumble around her.

---

In his penthouse, Jeonghan paced back and forth, phone pressed to his ear. "Somin, I thought we agreed to keep my personal life out of this," he said, frustration evident in his voice.

His publicist's calm tones came through the speaker. "Jeonghan, we did our best, but you have to understand. The public is hungry for this. Your story, the mystery—it's what sells. The interview was a huge success."

"At what cost?" Jeonghan muttered, more to himself than to Somin.

After ending the call, he walked to his workspace, surrounded by the tools of his trade. His fingers trailed over the bottles of his creations, lingering on "You, in New York."

For a moment, he allowed himself to remember—truly remember, not the sanitized version he had presented to the world. He saw Y/N's smile as they watched the sunset from the Top of the Rock, felt the warmth of her hand in his as they strolled through Central Park.

Almost without conscious thought, his hand reached for his phone. Y/N's contact information stared back at him, unchanged after all these years. His thumb hovered over the call button.

A war raged inside him. The desire to hear her voice, to explain, to apologize, warred with the fear of rejection, of reopening old wounds.

In the end, he set the phone down, the call unmade. But the desire, the need, lingered.

---

"Y/N, have you seen this?" Mina's voice came through the phone, excitement evident. "Jeonghan's Vogue interview. Girl, he's talking about you."

Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Mina, please. You know I don't want to hear about—"

"No, listen," Mina interrupted. "He talks about a moment in New York, watching the sunset from a rooftop garden. That was you two, wasn't it? On your last birthday together?"

Y/N's breath caught. She remembered that evening with painful clarity—the golden light, the gentle breeze, the feeling that everything was perfect. It was mere days before it all fell apart.

"It doesn't matter," Y/N said, but her voice lacked conviction.

"Honey," Mina said gently, "I think it does. He's been telling your story all along, in every bottle. Maybe... maybe it's time to tell yours."

After hanging up, Y/N found herself once again staring at the bottle of "You, in New York." She uncapped it, letting the scent envelop her. In that moment, she allowed herself to truly feel everything she had been suppressing for years.

The realization hit her like a wave: Jeonghan hadn't forgotten. Every perfume, every story, was a message in a bottle, cast out into the world in hopes that someday, somehow, it would reach her.

---

The charity gala was in full swing, the cream of New York society mingling amidst the glittering decor of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Jeonghan moved through the crowd, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries, the perfect image of the successful artist.

He was in the middle of a conversation with a fashion designer when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he found himself face to face with an old friend—one he shared with Y/N.

"Jeonghan," the friend said, a strange mix of emotions playing across their face. "It's been too long."

As they talked, catching up on the years that had passed, Jeonghan found himself hungry for any scrap of information about Y/N. He tried to be subtle, but his old friend saw right through him.

"She's doing well, Jeonghan," they said softly. "She's strong. But... I think she misses you too."

The words hit Jeonghan like a physical blow. He excused himself, making his way to a quiet corner of the museum. His carefully constructed world felt like it was shifting beneath his feet.

Across the city, Y/N was experiencing a similar upheaval. A mutual friend had let slip that Jeonghan had asked about her, that he still kept a photo of them on his desk.

As the night wore on, both Jeonghan and Y/N found themselves standing at a crossroads. The walls they had built, the distance they had maintained, suddenly seemed more like obstacles than protection.

Unbeknownst to each other, they both reached for their phones at nearly the same moment. Fingers hovering over screens, hearts pounding, they stood on the precipice of a decision that could change everything.

In the air, the faint scent of "You, in New York" lingered, a reminder of what was lost and what, perhaps, could still be found.

The stage was set. The next move was theirs.

The Autumn chill nipped at Y/N's skin as she stood outside the small café, her hands shoved deep into her coat pockets. Her eyes darted nervously up and down the street, searching for a familiar face she hadn't seen in years. Her heart raced, a mix of anticipation and fear coursing through her veins.

She almost jumped when her phone buzzed. A text from Jeonghan: "I'm here."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she spotted him rounding the corner. Jeonghan looked much the same as she remembered, yet somehow different. His hair was styled differently, and he carried himself with a weariness that hadn't been there before. But his eyes—those eyes that had once looked at her with such love—were as intense as ever.

Their gazes locked, and for a moment, the busy New York street faded away. It was just the two of them, standing on opposite sides of a chasm five years in the making.

Jeonghan reached her first, stopping a few feet away. "Y/N," he said, his voice a mix of relief and uncertainty.

"Jeonghan," she replied, surprised at how steady her own voice sounded.

An awkward silence fell between them, years of unspoken words and suppressed emotions creating an almost tangible barrier.

"Should we..." Jeonghan gestured towards the café, and Y/N nodded, grateful for the suggestion.

Inside, they found a quiet corner booth. The warm, coffee-scented air was a stark contrast to the tension between them. They ordered—an Americano for him, a latte for her, just like old times—and then faced each other across the small table.

"You look well," Jeonghan said, his fingers fidgeting with a sugar packet.

Y/N managed a small smile. "So do you. I... I've seen your interviews. Congratulations on all your success."

Jeonghan's face tightened almost imperceptibly. "Thank you. I hear you're doing well too. Teaching, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah, literature at NYU. It's... it's good."

Another silence fell, heavier this time. Y/N took a sip of her latte, using the moment to gather her thoughts.

"Why did you want to meet, Jeonghan?" she finally asked, setting her cup down perhaps a bit too forcefully.

Jeonghan looked up, meeting her gaze directly for the first time since they sat down. "I... I missed you, Y/N. Every day for five years, I've missed you."

The raw honesty in his voice caught Y/N off guard. She felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and blinked them back furiously.

"You missed me?" she repeated, a hint of bitterness creeping into her tone. "You're the one who left, Jeonghan. You chose your career over us."

Jeonghan flinched as if he'd been slapped. "I know," he said softly. "And I've regretted it every day since."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, familiar bottle. Y/N's breath hitched as she recognized it—"You, in New York."

"Every scent, every name," Jeonghan continued, his voice thick with emotion, "they were all for you. About you. My way of holding onto what we had, what I threw away."

Y/N stared at the bottle, memories flooding back. The laughter, the love, the pain—it all came rushing back in a dizzying whirl.

"I thought I was protecting you," Jeonghan said. "The pressure, the spotlight—it was destroying us. I thought... I thought if I let you go, you could have a normal life. Be happy."

"That wasn't your choice to make," Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You should have talked to me. We could have figured it out together."

Jeonghan nodded, running a hand through his hair in a gesture so familiar it made Y/N's heart ache. "I know that now. God, Y/N, I know. I was young and stupid and scared. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was just a coward."

Y/N felt the walls she'd built around her heart begin to crumble. She reached out, almost unconsciously, and took the perfume bottle from Jeonghan's hand. As she did, their fingers brushed, sending a jolt of electricity through both of them.

"I tried to hate you," Y/N admitted, her thumb tracing the label of the bottle. "I tried so hard to forget, to move on. But then I'd catch a whiff of one of your perfumes, or see your face on a magazine cover, and it all came flooding back."

Jeonghan leaned forward, his eyes pleading. "I know I have no right to ask this, but... is there any chance? For us? I'm not the same man I was five years ago. I've learned, I've grown. And I know now that nothing—no amount of success or fame—means anything without you."

Y/N closed her eyes, feeling tears slip down her cheeks. When she opened them again, she saw that Jeonghan's eyes were also wet.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "You hurt me, Jeonghan. Deeply. That's not something that can be fixed with a conversation and some pretty words."

Jeonghan nodded, his face falling. But before he could speak, Y/N continued.

"But... I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss you too. That I didn't still love you, despite everything."

Hope bloomed in Jeonghan's eyes. "So... what does that mean?"

Y/N took a deep breath. "It means... it means maybe we can try. Slowly. No grand gestures, no rushing back into things. We need to relearn each other, rebuild trust. Can you do that?"

Jeonghan reached across the table, gently taking Y/N's hand in his. The familiar warmth of his touch sent a shiver down her spine.

"Y/N, I would wait a lifetime if that's what it took. We'll go as slow as you need. I just... I just want a chance to make things right."

For the first time since they sat down, Y/N felt a genuine smile tugging at her lips. "Okay," she said softly. "Let's try."

The gentle spring breeze carried the scent of cherry blossoms through Central Park, where Jeonghan and Y/N walked hand in hand, their steps slow and purposeful. Two years had passed since that fateful night when they both reached for their phones, finally bridging the gap that had separated them for so long.

"I still can't believe we're here," Y/N said, squeezing Jeonghan's hand. "Sometimes I think I'll wake up and find it was all a dream."

Jeonghan brought her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her knuckles. "If it's a dream, then I never want to wake up," he replied, his eyes shining with emotion.

They found a quiet bench overlooking the lake, the same spot where they had sat years ago, planning their future together. Now, older and wiser, they sat again, the weight of their shared history and renewed love settling comfortably between them.

"The launch is tomorrow," Jeonghan said, a hint of nervousness in his voice. "Are you ready?"

Y/N took a deep breath, nodding. "As ready as I'll ever be. It's still surreal, you know? Being back in this world, but on my own terms this time."

The past two years had been a whirlwind of rediscovery and healing. After their reconnection, Jeonghan and Y/N had taken things slowly, rebuilding trust and relearning each other. Y/N had been adamant about maintaining her independence, refusing to be swallowed up by Jeonghan's world as she had been before.

To everyone's surprise—including her own—Y/N had discovered a talent for perfumery. What had started as curious questions about Jeonghan's process had evolved into a genuine passion. Under his guidance, she had begun to create her own scents, her natural intuition complementing Jeonghan's technical expertise.

And now, tomorrow, they would launch their first collaborative perfume.

"I have something for you," Jeonghan said, reaching into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small, elegant bottle, its contents shimmering in the afternoon sun.

Y/N gasped, recognizing the prototype they had been working on. "Is this...?"

Jeonghan nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "The final version. I wanted you to be the first to see it—to smell it."

With trembling hands, Y/N took the bottle. The label read "Essence of Us" in Jeonghan's distinctive handwriting. Below it, in smaller letters: "By Jeonghan & Y/N."

She uncapped the bottle, bringing it to her nose. The scent enveloped her immediately—bright citrus notes of bergamot and lemon, giving way to a heart of rose and jasmine, grounded by warm sandalwood and a hint of vanilla. But there was something more, something uniquely them—a note that spoke of long nights of conversation, of laughter shared over coffee, of gentle kisses and whispered promises.

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes. "It's perfect," she whispered.

Jeonghan wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "It's us," he said simply. "All of us. The good, the bad, the journey we've taken."

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, Jeonghan and Y/N sat in comfortable silence, the scent of their creation lingering in the air around them.

The launch event for "Essence of Us" was the talk of the fashion world. Held in the same New York hotel where Jeonghan and Y/N had celebrated her last birthday before their separation, it was a poignant reminder of how far they had come.

Cameras flashed as Jeonghan and Y/N stepped onto the red carpet, a united front. Y/N, dressed in a flowing gown that shimmered like liquid silver, looked every inch the confident co-creator, a far cry from the woman who had once hidden in Jeonghan's shadow.

Inside, the room was transformed into a sensory wonderland. Different stations represented the various notes of the perfume, allowing guests to experience each element individually before sampling the final product.

As the crowd mingled and the excitement built, Jeonghan clinked a glass, calling for attention. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to the stage where he and Y/N stood.

"Thank you all for being here tonight," Jeonghan began, his voice carrying easily through the room. "This launch is special for many reasons, but none more so than the fact that it represents not just a new scent, but a new chapter."

He turned to Y/N, love evident in his gaze. "For years, my perfumes told the story of what I had lost. They were messages in bottles, cast out into the world in the hope that someday, they might find their way back to the one who inspired them."

Y/N stepped forward, taking Jeonghan's hand. "And I heard those messages," she continued, her voice strong and clear. "Even when I tried not to listen, even when I thought that chapter of my life was closed forever. They called to me, reminding me of a love that never truly faded."

Together, they unveiled the perfume—an elegant bottle that seemed to capture the light, refracting it into a thousand tiny rainbows.

"'Essence of Us' is more than just a perfume," Jeonghan said. "It's a testament to the power of love, of forgiveness, of second chances. It's the scent of two people who lost their way, only to find that all paths led back to each other."

Y/N nodded, adding, "It's also a new beginning. A declaration that our story isn't just about the past, but about the future we choose to create together."

As the crowd applauded and the first samples of "Essence of Us" were distributed, Jeonghan and Y/N shared a private smile. They had poured their hearts into this creation, distilling years of love, loss, and rediscovery into a single, perfect scent.

Months later, as "Essence of Us" continued to top bestseller lists and garner critical acclaim, Jeonghan and Y/N found themselves back in their favorite spot in Central Park. The trees were ablaze with autumn colors, a crisp breeze carrying the promise of winter.

"I've been thinking," Jeonghan said, his tone casual but his eyes betraying a hint of nervousness. "About the future. About us."

Y/N looked at him curiously. "Oh? And what have you been thinking?"

Jeonghan took a deep breath, reaching into his pocket. "I've been thinking that maybe it's time for a new scent. Something... permanent."

He pulled out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a stunning ring. The design was unique—a delicate gold band that twisted into the shape of an infinity symbol, set with tiny diamonds that caught the light like drops of perfume.

"Y/N," Jeonghan said, his voice thick with emotion, "will you marry me? Again? For real this time, for always?"

Tears sprang to Y/N's eyes as she nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. As Jeonghan slipped the ring onto her finger, she finally found her voice. "Yes," she whispered. "Forever and always."

They sealed the promise with a kiss, the scent of "Essence of Us" mingling with the crisp autumn air. As they broke apart, both laughing and crying, Jeonghan's eyes lit up with that familiar spark of inspiration.

"I think I know what our next perfume will be called," he said, grinning.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips. "Oh? Do tell."

Jeonghan pulled her close, whispering in her ear: "You, Forever and Always."

And as they walked hand in hand through the park, already discussing notes and accords for their new creation, both Jeonghan and Y/N knew that this—their love, their passion, their shared creativity—was the most intoxicating scent of all.

365 notes · View notes

leonsdolly · 3 months ago

Text

Tammy Faye

Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Synopsis: In which you love Leon so much, you'd do anything for him.

CW: nsfw 18+, angst, obsession, depictions of murder, subby Leon, oral (m receiving)

WC: 4.4k

A/N: inspired by Tammy Faye by Nicole Dollanganger !

Red, black, red, black! Your hands are painted with the brilliant scarlet hue as you scrub them vigorously under the freezing tap water. You glance up at the filthy mirror to catch a glimpse of yourself. Black streaks of mascara trickle down your cheeks, mixing with the blood splattered across them like unholy rouge on a Venetian mask. You force a smile through the cracked exterior. Pierrot gone rogue. If he’d stabbed Harlequin eighteen times in a truckstop bathroom less than ten miles from Raccoon City and made sure to pose him all special for a handsome cop to find.

It’s as if all you see these days are red and black. How you long to catch a glimpse of the blue that swirls your lover’s eyes. The faint baby blue shadow you had applied that morning was a poor substitute. You screw your eyes shut and try to picture the particular shade of cerulean that you live for. His lovely face is overtaken by the gut-wrenching smell of copper and mildew as you open your eyes and continue scrubbing at your flesh. No matter, you’ll see him soon. For now, you focus on washing away all evidence of your inundating love. You scrub harder and harder and harder. Jesus, how much blood could a girl hold?

After what feels like eons under the flickering fluorescent light, you turn the rusty faucet off and smile widely at your reflection again. If Leon were to see you now, would he be enraptured by the way your thick mascara coated lashes frame your teary eyes like a doll that’s been trapped in an unopened box, forced to watch the most heartbreaking scenes play out through the unrelenting acetate sheet? You shake your head forcefully, expelling those thoughts out. The cops will be here soon. A twinge of giddiness zaps through your heart at the thought. He’ll be here soon.

You reapply a fresh coat of red lipstick - Dior, of course, before taking one last look around the dingy restroom. It’s filthy, but it was your personal respite for the past few hours. You wrinkle your nose at the row of grotesque urinals lined up against the dirt encrusted wall. They were filled with mysterious liquids that made your stomach churn. Thick reddish-brown goop that lay still with unidentifiable objects submerged within like a bog in Hell. Who would even think of doing something as disgusting as sticking their hand in? You turn away and push the door open to be greeted by the warm summer air. The night sky looms over you, a black sheet covered in stars that twink and blink and wink down at you as if to say “your secret’s safe with us.”

While this truckstop is gross, its beauty lies in the fact that it’s tiny and desolate as hell. Sure, the city is less than ten miles away, but the dense forestry surrounding the Arklay Mountains provides some coverage along the highway, shielding this particular stop from careless eyes. If you weren’t careful, you could miss it altogether unless you paid close attention to the fading signs. And because this was in the middle of nowhere, there weren’t any workers manning the facility at night. You wink back up at the stars and circle around the bathroom towards the gaggle of deserted semi-trucks, towards the one with its back door unlatched and open for all to see, towards her.

She sits up unnaturally, thanks to the crate you had propped up against her back. The emptiness of the semi’s trailer looks as if it’s about to swallow her for all that she’s got like a black hole. The shadows of moths fluttering against the lights dance over her, contrasting the stillness of her features. You tilt your head as you cross your arms and glare up at her. You’re still prettier, right? Her skin has taken on a sallow tone that appears even more unflattering in the harsh fluorescent light. Her hair is tangled and matted with blood. The black blouse she wears is torn and looks even darker with the stains covering it. You gently smack your lips, feeling the satisfaction of freshly applied lipstick. The whore got what was coming.

Gone were the nights of crying on the kitchen floor as Tammy Wynette played from another room. Gone were the days of having to excuse yourself in the staff restroom at the station to wipe the raven smudges away from your eyes. Gone were the moments of sheer exasperation and disgust as you watched her touch his uniform clad shoulders and lean in close to let him brush his lips over her own.

You pull your dainty white lace-trimmed gloves out of your pocket and slip them on before padding over to the lonesome payphone. You deposit a quarter before carefully dialing the three digits that would summon your lover like Beatrice descending from Paradise.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I’d like to report a dead body at the old truckstop about ten miles south of Raccoon City.” Click.

You put the inky black phone back on the receiver before smiling uncontrollably. Butterflies erupt in your stomach as the anticipation of seeing him very soon washes over you. You love him so madly, you’re convinced the only way out of it is 500 mg of midazolam, 100 mg of vecuronium bromide, and 240 mEq of good ol’ potassium chloride.

The dense forest behind the truckstop beckons you with open arms, and you oblige. You skip over to a spot that will allow you to have a front row view of what’s about to transpire while keeping you hidden among the foliage. From here, you can see the girl sitting up with deadweight limbs like a marionette being forced upright with invisible strings. The strings are in your hands, but you were forced to seize control of them from her. Who knows what her influence would have done to Leon?

A bat of her clumpy lashes here, a hand on his firm shoulder there, and your Leon voluntarily hooked himself onto the strings, dancing to the tune she hums from her spot in the dingy break room. You suppose you can't fault him entirely; it's in his nature to grin bashfully and gaze at a woman who fawns over him with lovesick eyes. After all, that's what you love about your sweet rookie cop. Sweeter than candy floss, tantalizing in every aspect like a perfect little peach ready to be plucked from Eden. He just needs to realize that you had always been leaning against the counter of that break room, observing the two with astute grace.

“Excuse me, could you point me in the direction of the chief’s office?” You dissolved.

The first words he had ever uttered to you solidified that you wanted all his words, and you would give him yours. You can’t even remember what you had responded with, lost in the tranquility of his eyes and splendor of his smile. You didn’t miss the way those eyes softly ran over your cream silk blouse, caressing and thumbing over the first few buttons for a peek of something more, something buried deep within your soul. Those lips pulled back to beam at you, beckoning you to press every part of you onto them until you shed black tears from a warmth you weren’t accustomed to.

You hear the sirens approaching from your protected spot, silently thanking nature for watching over you while the love of your life approaches.

“Come get your gift, sweetheart,” you murmur. “It's all for you, everything I do…”

Your heart thumps faster as the sirens scream louder and louder until they reach the truckstop. The slam of car doors echo throughout the otherwise silent night air as the officers’ frantic voices jumble over each other. You hold your breath as you identify your darling's voice among the two; your heart is about to blast off for the moon, leaving a red heart-shaped chemtrail behind it for all to see.

Some tinkering with flashlights and crackle of walkie-talkies, and there he is.

Leon rounds the corner to face the semi’s trailer, face going slack as he takes in the stage you set for him. He stands transfixed before her, immobilized like he’s now the one behind the acetate sheet. A pretty Ken doll, waiting for someone to tug at his strings.

His partner, Officer Redfield, flanks the semi as he joins Leon. “Fuck.”

Officer Redfield wastes no time in flinging open the car door and jamming his button to radio dispatch while his partner pales in the moonlight. You can't really make out what he's saying to dispatch but the terms “DOA” and “requesting units” and her name float over to you. When dispatch has confirmed that backup is on the way, Officer Redfield walks over to Leon and hesitantly places a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Kennedy.”

Leon shakes his head, a little dazed, a little frantic, but pretty just the same, and your thighs clench together. “How could this have happened again, Chris?”

Officer Redfield sighs heavily as he gazes up at the displayed corpse with unease. “I don't know. Goddamn it…”

He says something about how great of a colleague she was and how the entire station would miss her, but you can scarcely hear him over the blood roaring in your ears. Your beloved had asked how something like this could have happened again. Again. He knew. He was at least putting the pieces together. Your cheeks hurt from beaming in the shadows of the foliage; he was acknowledging the gifts you had bestowed upon him. A girl from a coffee shop whose smile drew him in like a shrimp to an anglerfish. A brute of a man who dared to connect his fist to such a lovely cheek during a drunken brawl at a bar. Both posed for his lovely eyes only, their last moments entombed in the polaroids tucked away in your desk drawer.

I’ve done it again, you silently mouth to him. I’ve done it again.

He doesn’t show up to work the next day. Or the day after that and the day after that and the day after that, and your organs fail.

An entire week passes, leaving your heart to writhe in agony from his absence. You stare forlornly at his empty desk from your own, shuffling papers mindlessly and feeling your hand twitch towards the letter opener whenever Chief Irons walks by - the bastard was the one who granted your darling “time off” to “process his emotions.”

A feeling of solemnity looms over the entire station as it whispers in hushed tones about who could’ve ripped away its beloved receptionist, a young woman who was in the prime of her life. The collective mourning is enough to make you want to vomit all over her desk, covering the slab of wood in your spite. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

You skim your fingers over the mahogany surface of Leon’s desk, feeling every crevice he feels as he hastily writes up reports and laughs at the other officers’ jokes like an angel breathing life into humans formed from dust. You long to see his splendorous face again, long to hear the stumbling of his words as his superiors tease him, long to inhale his reassuring scent as you brush past him to heat up your food in the break room.

“You friends with him or something?” Officer Redfield’s voice shatters you out of your reverie with a jolt.

“Oh, um, kinda…” Your voice softens at the question. Were you friends? Absolutely not. You were something better.

“Well, a few of us are gonna take him out tonight. Try to cheer him up after everything that’s been going on. Hell, we all need to cheer up. That last one hit way too close to home, especially for Kennedy.” His expression grows solemn. Three unsolved murders in such a short amount of time doesn’t necessarily boast confidence in the local police department. “You should come.”

You’re hesitant to respond. While your instincts are screaming at you to politely decline the invitation and instead observe the gathering from afar, a part of you realizes that you’ll get to be close to him. The thought makes you flutter like a little lacy thing in the wind that’s been pinned to a clothesline for as long as it can remember.

“I’d like that, thanks for inviting me.” You beam up at Officer Redfield. “You’ve all worked so hard. You deserve to relax as much as possible.”

“I don’t know about that.” A heavy sigh escapes his lips, and it looks like he wants nothing more than to tip his head back and let the whiskey slide down his throat, burning and clawing and gnawing at his esophagus until his vision turns black. “That’s three families who are cryin’ themselves to sleep, wonderin’ why this is happening to them.”

“Right.” Your eyebrows raise together in a display of faux sympathy, and your lovely mouth twists in a way that one could interpret as a pout of sorrow.

Where was the collective empathy when you were crying yourself to sleep every night while he was undoubtedly hugging her to his chest as they slept peacefully without a care in the world? Where was the justice in forcing yourself to be satisfied by your own fingers knowing it was a poor substitute for the heavenly cock filling her up? Where was the sense in any of it?

You slip back into an easy grin. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Raucous laughter and clinking of glasses and billiard balls missing their shots surround you as you enter a bar that’s rather homely in its own way. Your nerves are powerful enough to puncture flesh as you had primped and fussed over your appearance beforehand. This is your first outing with Leon, and you know that looking like anything less than Aphrodite’s descendant is not an option.

You see him before anyone else, just the way it’s always been. A modern-day Adonis standing unsuspectingly among the mediocre. His beauty wafts over to you like the aroma of honey and vanilla and brown sugar brewing on a stove, sweet and utterly tantalizing. It wraps itself around you, commanding you to drink it in until you relinquish all control. You’ve already given it all up for him. Gazing at him like he’s your cult leader, ready to usher you into the New World where it’s just you and him and no one else. You’ll do anything to preserve that world.

You make your way over to the group, greeting them and exchanging pleasantries before ordering your own drink. He’s leaning haphazardly on the edge of a pool table, and you casually stand by him, gripping onto your glass with trembling fingers.

He looks rather exhausted. Faint shadows encircle his eyes, and his blonde hair is a little mussed. His clothes are slightly rumpled, and he looks glumly at the tequila in his hand. His cheeks are painted with a subtle flush from the alcohol. You try not to reveal the utter state of adoration he’s put you in as you speak up.

“How are you, Officer Kennedy?”

He throws you a sidelong glance, and you catch it with bambi eyes. “I’m… hanging in there, I guess. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

You feel as though he’s taken an ax to every single appendage as you giggle softly and tell him your name.

He gives you a small smile as he nods at you. “I see you in the breakroom a lot.” His smile heals the bloody mess he just made, regenerating your wounds until you feel whole again.

“I do too. I’m really sorry about what you’re going through. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.” You tilt your head sympathetically to show him you really care about his well-being. The angle also shows off your good side.

“Thanks,” he sighs. “I don’t know how something like this could’ve happened to her. Been beating myself up all this time wondering what I could’ve done to prevent this from happening. I don’t know. Sounds kinda crazy, but the other two cases we had felt pretty c-close to me too… You think I’m being real self-centered for that or something? It’s only my first year on the force, and I-I’m trying to process all of this. S’a shitty feeling…” His lets his drunken ramble fade away.

“I think you’re a good and kind person who is just trying to make sense of some horrible events that have happened.” You gently touch his arm as a way of offering comfort, and the feeling of his skin underneath your fingertips evokes an overwhelming surge in between your legs. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Officer Kennedy. You can’t blame yourself for anything.”

He blinks back tears that are starting to brim along his heavenly lashes, and your clit throbs underneath your dress.

“I really appreciate that.” He smiles at you again which brings forth another wave of sticky arousal in your panties. “And Leon’s fine. Don’t need to do any of that ‘Officer’ stuff with me.”

“Leon.” Your favorite word in the world rolls off your tongue with practiced grace. He doesn’t need to know that you cling to the two syllables every night with frenzied cries as you try desperately to make yourself cum.

“Leon, what do you say we find somewhere a little more quiet? It can get pretty rambunctious and overwhelming in these places…” You lean in closer to gaze up at him underneath your pretty lashes, allowing your carefully selected fragrance to pull him under the depths of your desire, a siren calling out to the shipwrecked prince.

He lets out a stutter as the alcohol-induced blush dusted over his nose and cheeks intensifies further. It’s enough to put a Botticelli painting to shame.

“S-somewhere quiet would be good.”

You give his arm a gentle pat before leading him outside where the crisp night air kisses your faces, giving two lovers a proper welcome. The back of the bar is relatively secluded, and there is a small wooden bench that you promptly perch yourselves on. For the next minute or so, the two of you sit in silence. Your heart is about to blast off towards the moon as the realization that he’s here with his thigh pressed against yours hits you hard.

“Thanks for listening to me back there,” he finally murmurs with his eyes cast downwards. “I don't really want to get into that with the others.”

“Why not? They care about you, and want to make sure you’re okay.” I’m the only one you need, and I’ll make sure it stays that way.

“To be honest… I don't want them to think that I can’t handle myself. That I’m still just a stupid weak rookie who can’t compartmentalize his emotions like a real man.”

“Oh, Leon…” Darling, sweetheart, baby. “You don't have to prove anything to anyone. You’re a talented cop and a great person. You feel everything the way you want to feel. No one’s judging you or looking down on you for it. Trust me on that.”

You’re so caught up in reassuring him that you don’t realize your hand has floated up to cup his cheek until he stammers something unintelligible. You let your thumb rub soothing circles on his soft skin as you continue.

“I mean, anyone can tell how kind and sweet and smart and skilled you are. You have the respect of everyone at work, including mine…”

His flustered expression causes your breath to hitch as you gently brush his bottom lip with your thumb. You could write poetry inspired by the way his lips curve into a shy smile, pulling his faint dimples out of their slumber and letting sweet nothings be whispered to them under the moonlight.

“You want me to make everything better, baby?” You let your murmur be as soothing as possible, an elixir that promises to heal the broken man before you.

He nods bashfully as your forehead touches his. You let your hand fall from his face, and he whines softly at the loss of warmth, and as much as you’d love to mentally record the sound so that it’s playing over and over in your brain for those unfulfilling nights on the kitchen floor, you swallow it up with your own lips.

Your first kiss is what people go to war for. As your lips move together in tandem, you’re overcome with nostalgia for a time when the aroma of freshly baked apple pie wafts through the home and neighbors wave to each other over their white picket fences and Leon comes home with a twinkle in his eyes as he kisses you and the bundle in your arms.

This is why you did what you did.

He whimpers into your mouth as the kiss grows deeper. His hands roam down to your waist, squeezing gently at your sides as you let your tongue intertwine with his. You move your lips south, along his jaw and towards his neck where you set up camp. He lets out a whine as you press your lips particularly hard against the sensitive spot by his throat, taking care to pay attention to the two little moles peeking back up at you.

“P-please…” He gasps at another scrape of your teeth against his delicate skin.

“Just leaving a few marks to remember me by,” you coo. “Making my pretty boy even prettier.”

To your delight, his hips shift uncomfortably at your words. You lower your hand to meet his crotch, gently palming the growing bulge underneath his jeans. His head tips back, proclaiming open season on his throat to which you attack with vigor. Your thighs squeeze together as your lover pants towards the moon. You’re so focused on making your pretty boy feel good with your soft rubs and passionate kisses that you’ve scarcely paid any attention to the soaking gusset of your panties.

You slowly but surely lower yourself to the ground, internally cringing at the feeling of dirt on your knees. Oh well, it’s not the worst thing you’ve ever gotten on you. You perch yourself in between his legs and fumble with his belt buckle. His head returns to its original position as he gazes down at you with flushed cheeks and hooded eyes.

“Y-you don’t have to.”

“I want to, baby. I said I’d make everything better, right?”

“Mmm, yeah.”

He sighs as you successfully unclasp his buckle and shimmy his hardened cock out of his boxers. You preen at the sight - it’s pretty, just like the rest of him, and weeping for your attention. You gingerly take it in your hands, marveling at the girth as you stroke it up and down with slow movements. He whimpers at the feeling and involuntarily bucks his hips up so that he fucks into your hand. You let him do this a few times before deciding enough is enough.

“What do you want me to do, sweet boy? Tell me, I’ll do anything you want me to.”

“Your m-mouth,” he whispers.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you,” you tease as you hover your lips over the head.

“Want you to put your mouth on it,” he says, sounding more brave. How cute.

You hum in approval as you plant a kiss on the flushed tip of his cock which elicits the sexiest moan you’ve heard from him all night. Your hips roll against nothing, seeking pleasure for the ache in your cunt, but you force yourself to ignore it. You can’t be selfish tonight.

You softly lick at the sides before working on enveloping his length with your warm mouth. You bob your head up and down, relishing in the heavenly noises escaping his lips. You savor the taste of him as you slowly lift your head off to suckle at the tip before diving back in again, letting each inch tease against your throat. Your cheeks hollow out as you gaze up at him through your mascara covered lashes, letting your eyes go hazy with pleasure.

“You’re so pretty,” he heaves as he grips onto the hem of his shirt for an anchor. It’s all too much - your puffy lips stretched wide to accommodate his girth, the black tears trickling down your cheeks as you take him in for everything he’s got, the way you’re massaging his balls to heighten his pleasure. “I’m gonna-”

You pull all the way off, and you swear he almost cries.

“P-please, keep going. Please make me cum, I was almost there…” Tears bead along his lash line, and he desperately reaches for you. Your heart swells as you feel your emotions crash over you at the sight of the man you love crying for you to make him orgasm. How far you’ve come since those melancholy nights on the kitchen floor.Their sacrifices weren’t in vain after all.

You smile up at him and proceed to pleasure him in the way you can - the way he deserves. The lewd slurping sounds you make fill the air, and he tries not to thrust harshly into your mouth, but it’s all too overwhelming when you’re sucking his cock like it’s your favorite thing to do in the world.

He throws his head back and lets out a high-pitched moan as he bursts into your waiting mouth. You swallow his load, savoring the taste of his cum and trying to commit the feeling of it all into your memory. You pull off of his softening cock and press kisses to his twitching thighs as you observe his blissful state. His chest heaves as he attempts to catch his breath. His cheeks are as flushed as ever and a bit of drool has escaped onto his chin.

“Th-thank you,” he breathes.

“The pleasure was all mine.” You help him get fully dressed again and capture his lips in one more kiss.

“Do you maybe want to come over tonight? We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to… I-I just don’t think I want to be alone right now.” His eyes are begging, and who are you to deprive them of their desires?

“I’d love to.” You smile sweetly at him and take his hand to lead him to the car, winking up at the stars as you do.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy oneshot #resident evil smut #leon kennedy x you

209 notes · View notes

lilirari · 1 year ago

Text

　　　　　　　　　𐙚 ⋆୨୧˚ THE SUN TO MY MOON ⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. after a messy break-up, y/n goes mia for three months and her fans start to worry about her. but then one day, she makes her comeback, happier than she ever was, as she releases a new romantic song dedicated to her new mysterious lover, 'the sun' which sends her fans into frenzy as they try to figure out who her muse is.

💌 lewis hamilton x fem! singer! reader (social media au)

# author's note : this has nothing to do with the latest news on njr btw as it's been in the works long before the official news about his split with his ex. but with that being said, i do not condone any of his actions. anyways, i loved making this & i hope you'll have fun reading it !

twitter 🫖

instagram 🎥

yourinstagram

liked by lalalalisa_m, hoooooyeony, arianagrande and 111,320,129 others

yourinstagram in my healing era 💌

ps new music coming out soon !

view all 5,678,901 comments

lalalalisa_m 🩷

sooyaaa_ 🤍

roses_are_rosie love u xx

dualipa so pretty <3

conangray the queen is back !!

oliviarodrigo omg y/n new music !! 🥹

dior gorgeous !!

chanelofficial stunning !!

wkorea 🫶🫶🫶

adidasoriginals our favourite girl ☺️

troyesivan 😚

annehathaway 😘

calvinklein our ambassador everyone !!

user04 AAAHHH Y/N IS HOME THIS IS NOT A DRILL I REPEAT Y/N IS HOME !!!!

user10 omg girl we missed you so much 😭

user90 it girl vibes 🤍🎀

user45 MARRY ME Y/N

user57 WE LOVE YOU Y/N

user89 MOTHER IS BACK

user32 i love ur fit y/n !!

user81 y/n i know i can treat you better 😞

user38 Y/N NEW MUSIC SOON LFG !!!

user12 I HOPE THE NEW SONG IS A DISS TRACK JUST LIKE 'SOLO'

-> user54 solo isn't a diss track though ?? 😭😭

-> user12 i mean ok it's not like a rap diss track but she's still making fun of her prev ex and their break-up in it yk so it is kinda a diss track

-> user66 SO TRUE OP I NEED A SEQUEL TO SOLO

user11 where did you get that dress ??

user55 😍

user40 OUR PRINCESS !!! 🥹🥹

user29 Y/N NEW MUSIC OMG IT'S GOING TO BE HER REPUTATION ERA

user39 are we getting a sequel to USED TO BE YOUR GIRL NOW I'M USED TO BEING THE GOAT

-> user49 YOU'RE SITTING ON UR FEELINGS I'M SITTING ON MY THRONE

user77 y/n come back both in ig & the music industry ? best day of my life !!!

user22 we're going to get all the tea from this new song lmao

user19 Y/N THANK YOU FOR COMING BACK TODAY BEST BIRTHDAY GIFT EVER !!!

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blackpinkofficial

liked by yourinstagram, lewishamilton, sooyaaa_ and 50,444,980 others

blackpinkofficial y/n's 'you & me' is out now !

#Y/N #BLACKPINK #YOUANDME #OUTNOW #YG

view all 1,230,897 comments

lalalalisa_m go y/n !!!!!

sooyaaa_ 🥰🥰🥰

roses_are_rosie we're always so proud of u 🩷

sabrinacarpenter 🌙🎀

mileycyrus ❤️

barbie our moon princess barbie !!

nail_unistella 🫶🫶

adidasoriginals i love you & me dancing in the moonlight 🤭

prada wow !! 🤍

nasa red moon only for y/n ❤️🌙

spotify been on repeat all. day. long 🗣️

carmenmmundt i love this song so much 😘

-> yourinstagram aww thank you carmen 🤍🎀

-> user11 ariana what are you doing here 🤨

-> user30 HOLD UPPP Y/N AND CARMEN KNOW EACH OTHER ???

-> user46 what in the multiverse of madness...

mercesdesamgf1 ☺️❤️

liked by yourinstagram

user25 AHHH I LOVE THIS SONG Y/N IT'S SO CATCHY

user34 SOTY SOTY SOTY

user69 if y/n has millions of fans, i am one of them. if y/n has ten fans, i am one of them. if y/n has only one fan, i am that fan. if y/n has no fans, that means i am no longer on earth. if the world against y/n, i am against the world.

user77 am i the only one confused with the song & its lyrics lol

-> user81 no you're not alone bestie 😭

-> user90 the way we all thought it was going to be y/n's reputation era.. 🤡

-> user77 we're all just part of a circus

user16 Y/N ATE AND LEFT NO CRUMBS

user48 gosh y/n you look so good in that red dress 😍

user52 THE DANCE PERFORMANCE WAS SO BEAUTIFUL I NEARLY CRIED

user33 what's carmen & the mercedes account doing in the comments and why did lewis like this post.. something is very sus and i intend to find out what it is 🧐🕵️‍♀️

-> user26 op sherlock holmes mode activated

-> user33 i am already digging through gossip accounts and articles

-> user24 maybe we're getting merc x y/n collab ? like a sponsor or something ?

-> user33 perhaps.. but something feels slightly off 🤔

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lewishamilton

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lewishamilton talking to the moon

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plus44world 🌙

mission44 🤩

roscoelovescoco roscoe's love's the's moon's !

user63 WHAT THE HECK LEWIS

user99 LEWIS SOFT LAUNCH ??? HELLO ???

user43 SIR LEWIS CARL DAVIDSON HAMILTON MBE HonFREng WHAT IS THIS

-> user45 HELP NOT THE GOVERNMENT NAME 💀

-> user01 THE NAME IS TAKING ME OUTTTTT

user65 the drawings in the second slide is so cute though 🥹

user11 DROP HER @ MAN C'MON WE WANNA KNOW WHO SHE IS

user23 did my eyes glitch or did i just see " liked by yourinstagram " for a hot second

-> user49 YOU'RE NOT ALONE @/user23 I THOUGHT I SAW HER NAME BUT WHEN I REFRESHED THE PAGE, THE LIKE WAS GONE

-> user29 I SWORE I SAW HER @ TOO BUT I THOUGHT I WAS BEING TOO DELULU

-> user26 y/n really thought we wouldn't catch her 😭

user34 NOOOO LEWIS IS TAKEN 😭

user75 icb this man is soft launching on us...

user33 this is extremely suspicious considering the interactions we've gotten in the past days .. and the fact that it's related to the moon and y/n released a song about dancing in the moonlight just a few days ago.. 🧐

-> user28 MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY !!!

-> user42 chill guys i don't think they're together.. they live in completely different worlds y'know

-> user06 mhm yeah that's true 😞 although it would've been so nice to see a singer and a driver together.. imagine the power they'd hold !

user44 i've connected the dots

-> user63 you didn't connect shit

-> user44 I'VE CONNECTED THEM

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f1gossip

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f1gossip lewis was caught leaving the paddock with a girl after the qualis today ! one of our followers who attended the qualis today provided these pictures. they could not get a clear view of the girl's face but they suspect that she's his girlfriend as they were holding hands and were also hugging each other. who do you think this mysterious girl is and could she be the one he posted on his account a few days back ?

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user04 i did not expect tea on lewis today but i love it

user06 it's been a while since we've had a lewis dating rumour.. i hope she's his gf 🥹

user08 why does she look kinda familiar...

user10 she must be that girl he posted on his account

user28 ugh must be another girl just using him and his popularity for clout

user36 who cares ? she's probably just some girl who wants to mooch money & fame off of him

user40 why is it that every time a driver is seen with a girl or gets a new girlfriend, people automatically assume that the girl just wants fame and is just using the drivers for clout 💀

-> user56 fr like they've forgotten that a little thing called love exists..

user12 is it just me or does she look like that girl who was with lewis & george today

-> user14 yes she does

-> user16 who ?

-> user18 @/user16 they mean y/n y/l/n, a member of blackpink ! she was invited to the mercedes garage today !

-> user14 oh the pretty girl wearing that white top ?

-> user16 haha yeah that one

-> user14 honestly, if she & lewis aren't together then i'll gladly take her

-> user16 ure so real for this

user20 that's defo y/n

user22 must be y/n.. the height & hair matches and the fit looks pretty similar to what she wore today

user26 probably y/n.. lewis and her were talking like as if they've known each other for a long time and she already seems pretty close with the mercedes team, george and carmen too

user24 i hope it's y/n her & lewis would be such a hot couple

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mercedesamgf1

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mercedesamgf1 it's race day out here in são paulo ! here's our drivers and our new mercedes ambassador, y/n, arriving to the paddock in style !

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yourinstagram looking forward to making great memories with you all ! 🤍

user47 OMGMGMGM Y/N MERCEDES AMBASSADOR !!!

user49 WE GOT OUR Y/N X MERCEDES COLLAB LFG

user99 YESSSS Y/N MERC AMBASSADOR CONFIRMED I LOVE THIS

user97 my favourite celeb & my favourite f1 team 🥰

user95 before any hate comments come in — y/n genuinely loves f1 and is not using it for clout !!!

user93 istg if anyone hates on y/n i will turn into ur biggest nightmare

user51 y/n serving face as always 🫶

user53 icb mercedes got the prettiest woman in the world to be their ambassador.. they really won in life

user55 y/n's paddock fits are always so good !!

user57 LEWIS WITH THE BRAZILIAN FLAG !! oh he loves brazil so much ☹️

user59 MANIFESTING LEWIS & GEORGE PODIUM TODAY

user61 lewis looks so happy 🥹🥹 he's home <3

user63 george = gorgeous

user65 george looks so good in those shades 😩

user67 our favourite mercedes trio !!!!

user69 i'm still trying to figure out who lewis was with last night lol

-> user71 LMAO SAMEEEE

-> user73 placing my bets on y/n tbh

-> user75 y/n seems like the most plausible option 🤔

-> user77 hope it's y/n her chemistry with lh is amazing

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yourinstagram 1 minute ago

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yourinstagram winner of the race & my heart 🖤

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lewishamilton i love you

-> yourinstagram i love you too baby

lewishamilton my pretty girl 🖤

liked by yourinstagram

lewishamilton when did you take that second picture ?

-> yourinstagram when you & george left for the briefing session yesterday ;)

-> lewishamilton you really can't go a minute without kissing me, can you ?

-> yourinstagram shh you don't have to expose me like this in public

-> lewishamilton oh i think it's definitely necessary for me to expose you like this in public bc your reactions are always so adorable

-> yourinstagram you're so mean you're lucky i love you 😕

-> lewishamilton yeah, i am pretty lucky, aren't i ? i won the heart of the girl of my dreams & won at my favourite track as an added bonus

-> yourinstagram the girl of your dreams, mhm ? 🫣🫣🫣

-> lewishamilton only you baby

-> yourinstagram i feel so special 🥰🥰🥰

-> landonorris and i feel sick after reading all these get a room !!! 🙄🙄

-> yourinstagram go back to your nap, lan

-> oscarpiastri well, i personally think that you & lewis are the best couple on the paddock, y/n

-> yourinstagram this is why oscar is my favourite child

-> landonorris hey that's not fair ! favouritism shouldn't be a thing amongst your children !!

-> lewishamilton lando, don't argue with my girlfriend

-> landonorris ok sorry dad 😞

georgerussell63 why are you wearing a mclaren cap ? 🤨

-> yourinstagram that's not a mclaren cap it's a normal orange cap 😭

-> georgerussell63 i can literally see 'mclaren' written on the side, y/n

-> yourinstagram ok fine i stole it from lando's bag since the sun was bothering me i'm still loyal to merc i promise

-> landonorris you did WHAT

-> yourinstagram oops i've said too much..

-> landonorris y/n get back here !!

-> yourinstagram 🏃‍♀️

carmenmmundt my gorgeous girlfriend 🤍

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lalalalisa_m please treat our sister well, @/lewishamilton !

-> roses_are_rosie or else we're going to partner up with red bull or ferrari and make your team cry

-> lewishamilton haha, don't worry girls i'll treat her properly like the queen she is

-> sooyaaa_ good ☺️

alexandrasaintmleux y/n vous êtes si belle 🩷

charles_leclerc don't forget about my signed album 🤭

-> yourinstagram it's on the way ! 🫡

oscarpiastri my parents, everyone !

-> yourinstagram my son 🥹

-> lewishamilton we love you son

-> landonorris wow i feel so loved 🧍

roscoelovescoco i's love's you's mum's

-> yourinstagram aww i love you too my baby coco 🥹

mercedesamgf1 y'all wish you had y/n, huh ? 😏

-> scuderiaferrari yeah

-> redbullracing yeah

-> mclaren yeah

-> astonmartinf1 yeah

maxverstappen1 congratulations to lewis for the win & to both of you for officially making your relationship public!

-> yourinstagram aww thanks maxieeee :( <3

user01 HELP NOT THE OTHER F1 TEAMS BEING JEALOUS OF LEWIS & MERCEDES

user87 SO IT WAS YOU !!!

user85 LEWIS IS THE SUN TO HER MOON YOU GUYS 😭

user83 so y/n wrote you & me for lewis.. couple goals fr

user81 i don't know if i want to be y/n or lewis here

user79 YESSSS THE IT COUPLE !!! FINALLY !!!

user77 that third picture of lewis is so cute his smile 🥹🥹🥹

user75 I LOVE YOU AND ME DANCING IN THE MOONLIGHT

user73 I KNEW ITTTTTTTT

user11 YOOOOO OMG Y/N & LEWIS ??? WHATTTTTT

user21 THEY LOOK SO GOOD TOGETHER IT'S INSANEEEE

user23 her exes never really got a romantic song or even a post dedicated to them.. lewis really is her special person

user25 NOOOO Y/N IS NOT SINGLE ANYMOREEEEE my parasocial relationship with her is gone now 😭😭 (in all seriousness though, congrats lewis you bagged the woman of the century)

user27 i hope they'll last forever 🤞

user29 the best thing to happen this year

user28 THE WAY Y/N AND LEWIS ADOPTED THE MCLAREN TWINS OMG 😭😭

user26 y/n & lewis being referred to as mum & dad and oscar & lando being their children.. i love this silly formula 1 family so much

user24 they're my roman empire !!

user44 @/user63 SEE I TOLD YOU I CONNECTED THE DOTS

-> user63 ... i hate to admit this but i was wrong 👩🏻‍🦯

user20 THAT OUTFIT IS SO FIRE

user18 MOTHER IS MOTHERING !!!!

user22 no bc y/n looks so genuinely happy with him.. as someone who's followed her since her trainee & rookie days, i'm so proud and happy for her :( she deserves only the best <3

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lewishamilton forever grateful to the moon 🖤🌙

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glitter-lace-and-mace · 6 months ago

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lalathemediterraneanmermaid · 4 months ago

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What do ikeprince suitors smell like? Pt. 1

Have you ever wondered how our pookies would smell or what perfumes woulds they wear if they were real? Because I do, and it almost keeps me awake at night. But don't worry, I'm here to satisfy your curiosity. I've assigned each IkePri suitor scents and perfumes based on information from the routes and, of course, mainly on the vibes they give me.

Sariel Noir

The Palace Devil definitely wears a complex yet sophisticated perfume, with a fresh and spicy top note and a warm, woody base.

Notes: mint, ginger, cinnamon, cardamom, vetiver and tonka beans.

Perfumes he might like:

Five O'Clock Au Gingembre - Serge Lutens - His favourite

Spicebomb - Viktor & Rolf

Noir Extreme - Tom Ford

(He also has the Miss Dior perfume, courtesy of Clavis, but he keeps it because he secretly loves his troublemaker lil baby, but ssshhh.)

Rio Ortiz

The Puppy Butler uses a vibrant and cheerful perfume with fresh floral vibes and a sweet warm base.

Notes: mandarin, sweet lemon, neroli, orange flower, peach and amber.

Perfumes he might like:

Light Blue Intense - Dolce & Gabbana

Orange blossom - Jo Malone London - His favourite

Versace Pour Homme - Versace

Keith Howell

The Gentle Stag goes for something more fresh and citrusy with a heavy heart of herbal spices and aromatic herbs on top of a woody base.

Notes: bergamot, yuzu, basil, clove leaf, vetiver and cedarwood.

Perfumes he might like:

Neroli Portofino - Tom Ford

Bleu de Chanel Eau de Parfum - Chanel

Colonia Club - Acqua di Parma - His favourite

Emerald Thyme - Jo Malone

Forest Lungs - The Nue Co.

Silvio Ricci

Our Haughty Jingler Jangler is definitely tied to the ocean (and alcohol). I feel like he would go for something fresh and spiced with a sophisticated warm base. Also, he's a bougie boy, so he has a lot of perfumes. He doesn't have a favourite perfume, because he loves the layering technique, he is unique and doesn't want anyone smelling as good as him, period.

Notes: Ron, mandarin, bergamot, mint, nutmeg, cardamom, amber, musk, ambrette seed, sea salt and sea moss.

Perfumes he might like:

Bvlgari Man Extreme - Bvlgari

Allure Homme Èdition Blanche - Chanel

Wood Sage & Sea Salt - Jo Malone London

Herbal Aquatica - Montale

Fougeres Marines - Montale

Virgin Island Water - Creed

Un Jardin en Méditerranée - Hermès

Seahorse - Zoologist Perfumes

Gilber Von Obsidian

This pookie The conqueror beast smells like the blood and fear from his enemies, just kidding. He probably likes winter fresh like scents with some herbal and floral notes on top of a woody base. Something that dries out warm and kind of sweet.

Notes: Sweet basil, fennel, neroli, winter daphne, blacktea, rum, amber and vanilla.

Perfumes he might like:

Noir Extreme - Tom Ford (He probably stole it from Sariel while visiting his boyfriend bff Chevi)

Terre d'Hermès - Hermès

Viking - Creed - His favourite

Silver Mountain Water - Creed

Kagari Amagase

We still don't know much about this dorayaki lover kitty (Doraemon is that you?) so this is just based on assumptions. We know he is competitive, he seems elegant and sophisticated at first sight and has stolen the hearts of the fandom with those feline eyes. So I feel like he goes for citrusy and fresh scents, with a bit of spice an sweetnes on top of a warm and sensual base.

Notes: Bergamot, mandarin, ginger, cherry blossom, white floral, ylang-ylang, cinnamon, sandalwood, amber and musk.

Perfumes he might like:

Gabrielle - Chanel

Premier Figuier - L’Artisan Parfumeur

Zen for Men - Shiseido - His favourite

Especially Escada - Escada

Azel Radwan

We also don't know much about Tanzanite's God. But we know that he is a God, and ethereal, and beautiful, an slay, and a God, and mysterious, and a God, maybe broke (but we still love him), and he is a God. We can't forget that he is a God, 'cause he is a God, just in case you didn't know he is a God. He definitely smells divine, aromatic and warm, maybe kind of spicy with white florals. He gives me vibes that he has a huge collection of arabian perfumes, 'cause he a sassy.

Notes: ylang-ylang, lotus flower, bergamot, jasmine, violet, frankincense, amber, oud, musk, tea, tonka beans and vanilla.

Perfumes he might like:

Royal Oud - Creed

Oud Wood - Tom Ford

Interlude Man - Amouage - His favourite

Reflection Man - Amouage

Royal princess Oud - Creed

Mukhallat - Montale

Borneo 1834 - Serge Lutens

Matthias Asbrink

Again, we still don't know much about him, but we do know that our cold boy is a firm and strict protector of law and justice. I don't know about you, but I feel like he smells like a breath in a snowy mountain at midwinter, refreshing, almost freezing. But he is elegant, discreet and sophisticated. He might seem cold but I'm sure he is warm and cozy on the inside (and a little freak iykyk). If I had to describe his scent vibe in a sentence it would probably be "like drinking a hot chocolate in front of a fireplace after a morning in the middle of the snowy mountains of Northern Europe."

Notes: Snow, cypress, honeysuckle, cardamom, bergamot, iris, lavender, clove, vetiver, cedarwood, leather, cinnamon and chocolate.

Perfumes he might like:

Homme Intense - Dior

Aventus - Creed

Silver Mountain Water - Creed - One of his favourites

Black Orchid - Tom Ford

Chocolate Greedy - Montale

Man In Black - Bvlgari

Glacial Essence - Bvlgari

Gentleman - Givenchy - One of his favourites

Snowy Owl - Zoologist Perfumes - Another favourite because you gifted it to him. You thought it was cute that the cold man from the north that has an owl as his crest deserved a perfume cutely named "Snowy Owl".

Penguin - Zoologist Perfumes

And here it ends part 1 of "What do ikeprince suitors smell like?". Stay tuned for part 2 with our iconic princes of Rhodolite my dearies. Love you all!!!!

#ikemen prince #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird #cybird otome #ikemen games #sariel noir #rio ortiz #keith howell #silvio ricci #gilbert von obsidian #kagari amagase #azel radwan #matthias asbrink #scent #perfume #belle

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foxyanon · 4 months ago

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All For You

Notes: This is a gift to my closest moot and friend, @sihtricfedaraaahvicius. Happy birthday you beautiful soul, may your day be everything you want it to be and more 💙💜

Summary: You are whisked out of your cozy life into the arms of a vampire who wants nothing more than to make you his.

Pairing: Vampire!Masema Dagar x Human!Reader

Word Count: 5641

Rating: 18+, MDNI

TW: Smut, monsterfucking, blood sucking, vampire/human relationship, Corvina makes an appearance here

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from The Wheel Of Time, nor do I own any of the images used. I only own my own OC, Corvina.

Dividers by @arcielee

Masema Dagar was many things; wealthy businessmen, vampire and an amazing dresser. One thing everyone who ever saw him could agree on was that he was just as discerning with his woman as he was with business deals. No two of his lovers ever looked the same but all were as beautiful and talented as a pageant queen. It was well known he didn’t keep them around for a long time and to be one of his ladies was a ticket to a far better life.

At least, that’s what he was like before he met you. You, with your sweet scent and dazzling eyes, had ensnared him completely when you accidentally ran into each other at the antique mall he loved to browse. You were one of the seasonal workers, tasked with helping test the vintage dishware for radioactive paint and properly assess everything that came in before it went to the floor. You looked up to apologize, breath catching at the intense gaze in his eyes, before muttering your apology.

Masema, however, was already picturing what you’d look like in the 1957 Bar Suit from Dior with matching pumps. You were exactly what he was looking for, and mentally he was already moving meetings around so he could take you to his stylist and completely redo your entire wardrobe. He grinned at your wide eyed look, the tips of his fangs peeking out and glinting in the low light of the Edison bulbs illuminating the warehouse. Your sharp intake of breath and the sudden fluttering of your heart didn’t go unnoticed by the man who suddenly needed you to become his and only his. He took your hand, bringing it slowly to his lips to kiss the back of your hand and giving you his most charming smile.

“No need to apologize, little one. I came here looking for something specific and it appears I’ve just found it,” he said smoothly, the timbre of his voice sending shivers down your back in tandem with his fingertips gently rubbing over the veins of your wrists.

If you weren’t already speechless, he may have stolen your breath entirely with that statement. Your head was spinning and you were so lost in his eyes that you forgot you were at work. Attempting to regain some control over yourself and be professional, you cleared your throat awkwardly and went to take your hand back, but he simply tightened his grip and pulled you closer, turning your hand over to inhale your scent along your wrist.

“You smell delicious, little one. Something so sweet must have a name to match. Tell me it,” he spoke in that rich cadence, eyes locking with yours as his mouth watered at the thought of sinking his fangs into your skin. When you stuttered out your name, he tasted it on his tongue and found he liked it far more than he should. He needed no introduction, but he gave you one all the same and you swore he groaned when you spoke his name in your lovely voice.

“A pretty name for a pretty lady, and far too beautiful to be working. Your man should be providing for a little thing like yourself, unless you don’t have one?” He was only asking out of courtesy, he’d already made up his mind you were leaving with him.

As personal as this conversation had quickly become, you found you couldn’t help but indulge. He was alarmingly handsome, charming and seemed wholly focused on you. Sure, he might not keep you for a long time, but it would be a fun one nonetheless.

“Umm, no. I don’t have a…man in my life,” you said quietly, allowing Masema to lead you towards the register where your boss was. He hummed in response, never releasing your hand.

“Their loss, since you will be mine now,” he said with a grin before waving your boss over. “This lovely lady and the red crushed velvet divan are coming with me,” he stated, pulling a small stack of cash out of his suit jacket and setting it on the counter. His tone left no room for debate, and he kissed your fingers before telling you to go collect your things. You listened, hearing your coworkers whisper how lucky you were as he always treated his girls very well. You only heard the stories, but you were both intrigued and confused as to why his focus was on you.

By the time you finally pulled your head from the clouds some time later, you realized you were in his car on the way to some store. The dark tint on the windows didn’t hide the fact you were on Fifth Avenue, names of stores you could only dream of entering passing by. You must have looked bewildered because you heard him chuckle beside you in the back of the town car.

“No lady of mine will wear anything that’s available to the masses. You have a body made to be dressed in Chanel and Yves Saint Laurent,” he reached up, his thumb tracing over the pulse point on your neck as he heard your heart beat erratically in your chest. “Your lovely neck was meant to display Tiffany, Cartier and Harry Winston pieces. It would be a crime not to clothe you in proper attire,” he said softly, his fingertips gently tracing along your collarbone and you were reeling from the sudden change in your life once more.

The reality of your situation only started sinking in when you were standing on a little platform in front of several mirrors and staring at your reflection in a square neck black dress, the hem of the white petticoat barely visible underneath the fabric of the skirt. The dress was simple yet classic, something you never pictured yourself wearing and suddenly you were feeling very out of place in the dressing room. Masema sensed your discomfort, noting the way your hands hovered along the silhouette of your dress. He approached you from behind, gently grabbing your hands and wrapping them and his arms around your waist.

”What is going on in that pretty head of yours, hm? Talk to me, little one,” he whispered in your ear, lips trailing along the column of your neck as you leaned back in his embrace.

”This is all so much and so fast. This morning I was getting dressed for work, and now I am standing in a luxury store wearing a dress that costs as much as my rent. I feel like I am in a waking dream,” you answered, sighing when he nipped at your ear. “I do not belong here…” you trailed off, feeling his grip tighten around you as he met your gaze in the mirror.

“Never think such thoughts of yourself. You belong wherever I say you do, understood?” He said firmly, hoping to banish any more of those thoughts from your mind.

You nodded, feeling weak in the knees at his intensity. You briefly wondered if he was like this with the previous women, but that thought didn’t linger long as you were swept away to try on another outfit he picked out.

Weeks passed and you learned that Masema was nothing if not serious when he took a lover. You were moved into his stately house practically the day you met him, and he paid to have your lease broken from the shoebox you once called your apartment. When you asked him why he was doing all this for you, he simply said you were meant to be doted on and he wanted to be the one that provided for you. You decided not to question him further as his answer seemed genuine and you never had someone want to care for you like that.

The first time he fed from you was an experience you won’t forget. He was working on some paperwork in his office when you found him, his hair hanging loose from his usual top knot as he pinched the bridge of his nose. You had only been with him for a few days, but he told you he would never demand anything of you, especially as a payment for his gifts to you. However, you couldn’t help but notice how exhausted he looked and you wanted to do something for him. You don’t know what compelled you to do it, but you walked into his office unannounced and perched yourself on his desk, hands gripping the edge of the mahogany as you looked at him.

Masema perked up at your presence, his eyes slowly trailing up your form with a smirk. He thought you looked so cute in that moment, but his mind soon wandered to depraved images of you writhing on the surface as he fucked you hard.

“I want you to bite me,” you said, gently swinging your feet as your words pulled Masema from his thoughts. The heat in his gaze intensified and he licked his lips, both actions having you squeeze your thighs together.

“Are you certain you wish for that? Being fed on is an…intense sensation, to put it politely,” he stated as he sat up, while internally he was trying desperately to keep himself from doing what you wanted. You nodded but he wasn’t accepting that, he needed to hear it from your lips. “No, little one. Use your words and tell me.”

You blushed and looked down, only for Masema to stand from his chair and tilt your head up with two fingers under your chin. The look in his eyes told you that he wouldn’t ask twice and you stuttered out a breath.

“Yes, I am sure,” you replied softly, feeling his thumb trace your bottom lip.

Masema brushed your hair back away from your neck, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head tenderly. He placed featherlight kisses along your jawline towards your pulse point, relishing in the little sigh you let out as you exposed your neck to him and spread your legs, allowing him to slide between them.

“It will hurt briefly, then that pain will fade to pleasure,” he whispered against your skin, free hand gripping your waist and pulling you closer to him. He didn’t give you time to think yourself out of this, his fangs piercing your skin causing you both to moan. The moment your blood washed over his tongue, he knew he’d never crave another the way he craves you.

Your hands gripped his biceps, feeling his muscles flex beneath the fabric of his button up shirt. You felt lightheaded and dizzy with desire, pressing your chest against his and whimpering at the feelings coursing through your body. After a few moments, Masema pulled away, running his tongue along the puncture marks to clean up any lingering blood and looking into your half lidded eyes.

“You taste divine, like you were crafted to be my favorite drug,” he murmured, cupping your cheek gently and kissing your temple. “I should reward you for sharing yourself with me.”

His other hand slipped underneath your skirt, the coolness of his touch causing you to shiver as his fingers danced along your inner thigh. He chuckled when he reached your core, feeling how wet you were already as he teased you through the fabric of your ruined underwear while you moaned softly at the contact.

”All worked up for me? Don’t worry, I will take care of you,” he said, sliding your underwear to the side and inserting two fingers into your heat, relishing in the way you gripped him tighter. There was no teasing or light touches, Masema focused on bringing you to your peak before he intended to ravage you.

The feeling of his thick fingers inside you as he sought that spot that would have you making more of your pretty noises had your eyes closing in blissful pleasure, but he wasn’t having that. He tangled the fingers of his free hand in your hair, tugging hard enough to cause you to gasp and look up at him with wide eyes.

”Eyes on me, sweet thing. I want to watch you come undone on my hand before I give you my cock,” he practically commanded, watching as your lips parted when you stuttered out a moan. You obeyed, your eyes hooded but still locked on his.

”Good girl,” he purred, those simple words being all you needed to fall over the edge. Masema relished in the way you gripped his arms and groaned his name, and he vowed he’d spend the rest of his life seeing this view of you. He finally released your hair and let you collapse back on the desk, your chest heaving as he licked his fingers clean, groaning at the taste. You cursed at how much that little action had you wanting to clean his fingers yourself, and he chuckled at your expression.

“Next time, little one. Right now, I need to be inside you,” he said as he undid his belt, sliding the black leather free the belt loops of his custom tailored dark gray slacks. He deftly wrapped the belt around your hands, leaning over you as he placed your bound wrists above your head. “Do not move your hands or I will stop. Understood?”

You nodded your response but he cocked his brow in a way that had you scrambling to answer him. “Yes sir,” you breathed out, watching as he stood straight up and undid his trousers with a grin. Your mouth watered at the sight of his erection springing free, wondering what he tasted like and how that vein would feel on your tongue. You whimpered and shimmied a bit on the wood surface, only for Masema to slap your inner thigh.

”Patience. You will take what I give you, sweet one. You will enjoy it, I promise,” he said firmly, gripping your thighs and spreading your legs further apart so he could see all of you. The underwear you wore was cute, but kept him from what he wanted so he ripped them off you. You gasped when you heard the fabric rip, but Masema didn’t give you a chance to say anything before he lined up and thrust into you, groaning at the way you felt around him.

He barely gave you a chance to adjust to his size before he gripped your hips bruisingly, setting a head spinning pace that had the desk rattling with his movements. A few pens and one of the little desk ornaments hit the ground, but that didn’t deter the vampire currently making his fantasy a reality. You couldn’t control the downright depraved sounds falling from your lips and Masema seemed wholly unconcerned if the rest of the manor could hear what you two were up too. You desperately wanted to touch him, but his warning from earlier broke through the pleasurable haze in your mind and you reached up to grip the edge of the desk, a poor attempt at keeping yourself grounded since Masema seemed determined to have you hurtling toward oblivion.

For his part, Masema could feel his control slipping. The way you looked in that moment, taking him so beautifully and the even more lovely sounds you were making had him feeling things no other woman had before. It stroked his ego, knowing that he got to see you so wrecked from his own actions. The vision you painted on his memories was better than his wildest dreams and he could feel his own climax building, but he needed to feel you finish first. One hand moved from your hip to your sensitive nub, his thumb rubbing circles at just the right speed and pressure that had your back arching off the desk and letting out a guttural groan. After one particularly harsh thrust, he felt your walls squeeze him tightly before you soaked him once more, your legs trembling beneath his large hands as he followed after you.

Masema rested his forehead on your chest, slow thrusting as you both came down from the high you both experienced. The sound of your racing heart brought a smile to his face, but you couldn’t see it with the way your eyes will still trying to come into focus from the blackout orgasm you just had. You barely registered him pulling out and untying your hands, fixing his clothes and tying his hair back into his standard topknot. Ever the gentleman, Masema helped you sit up and kissed your forehead before he went back to his work, looking much more relaxed than before.

You could feel the stickiness of your combined fluids between your thighs and you suddenly wanted to shower and freshen up, knowing you would be joining Masema for dinner out later. You stood on shaky legs, Masema reaching out to steady you before you gave him a weak smile and nod, walking slowly so you didn’t stumble on your way out of his office. He watched you with a grin, thoroughly enjoying the sight of you leaving while the skirts of your dress swayed with your steps.

Your days passed much like that, Masema being a doting and thorough lover but you couldn’t shake the feeling this was all temporary. His reputation wasn’t in line with being boyfriend material, but you couldn’t help but fall in love with him all the same. He treated you well and you enjoyed his attentions, but the thought he was like this with the previous girls always made you feel sick to your stomach. All these feelings came to a head one night at a work gala Masema took you too. It was at the estate of another vampire, this one you learned was old and very powerful. While he never told you the specifics, Masema did let you know this woman was his coven leader and a long time friend, nothing more. He introduced you to Corvina and you liked her rather instantly. She had the aura of someone who lived their truth, something you were grateful for amidst a room of shady business types only hoping to brush elbows with those above their perceived stations.

As the evening progressed, you noted the way other women in the room seemed to flock to his side and attempt to catch his eye. You weren’t one for the spotlight, so you hung back and sipped on your champagne, feeling worse with each moment you watched some lady coyly touch his arms or laugh at something he said. Your breaking point was when a pretty blonde tried kissing his cheek and you couldn’t stand to be in the ballroom anymore, so you left and found yourself standing on a balcony to get some fresh air. You leaned against the stone railing, taking some deep breaths and reeling your jealous thoughts back in. Of course you were only a fling to him, even if neither of you actually talked about or put labels on what you were. You knew it was your fault for going and catching feelings, but you didn’t know how to tell him nor did you really want to leave him. Your train of thought was interrupted by the near silent arrival of Corvina, the pale light of the moon and distant light of the ballroom illuminating her pale skin.

”You should be inside with Masema, not out here alone,” she spoke softly, looking out over the darkened grounds.

You sighed, looking over your shoulder through the large window to where Masema was in talks with a group of people, another woman standing too close to him. “I needed some air,” you whispered before looking back towards the estate.

Corvina followed your line of sight, humming in understanding before looking at you. “I see. Do you wish to talk about it?”

You weren’t sure if it was the softness of her tone or the fact she was the first person in months you could speak to about the unusual circumstances you were in, but you broke down and told her everything. Your feelings for Masema, how you felt like you were just a fling to him and how you hated not knowing what he thought of you. Sure, he showered you with compliments, but the thought he was treating you as any other woman ate at you. You hadn’t realized you had started crying until Corvina held out a handkerchief to you, which you took with a soft word of thanks and cleaned up your face.

”If I may offer you some insight, dear,” she started, leaning back against the low stone railing and crossing her arms. “I have known Masema for many, many years. I found him as a feral fledgling and took him in, raising him into the man he is today. I have watched girls come and go with him, and I never faulted him for that. We all have our vices, and pretty ladies are his. Which is why I can tell you with absolute certainty that he has never looked at one of them the way he does you. I will be having words with him for leaving you so confused as to your standing with him, but he would give you the world if you asked it of him.”

You were speechless for a minute, absorbing everything she said as the door from the ballroom opened up and Masema stepped out. You couldn’t have been gone from his side for more than half an hour, but he looked both concerned and frustrated that you had come outside alone. Corvina gently patted your back, opting to leave you two alone to have a much needed talk. As she brushed past Masema, she leveled him with a look that would have anyone shrinking away from her.

”I would encourage you to use your words here, Masema Dagar. You are undead, not unfeeling. Do better,” she said, gliding back inside while Masema had the look of a scolded boy on his face at her words. When he turned back to you, he could see the redness in your eyes and his frozen heart broke at the sight.

”What is wrong, little one? Are you hurt?” He asked, stepping closer to cradle you in his arms but you simply held your hand up to stop him.

”What are we?” You asked, crossing your arms across your stomach and willing yourself not to cry in front of him.

He looked taken back for a moment at your refusal to let him touch you, before schooling his expression and putting his hands in his pockets. “You should not have come out here alone, there are other vampires that would snatch you up,” he deflected, sighing heavily when he saw the look in your eyes harden at his answer.

You stood straighter, meeting his gaze with narrowed eyes. “Do not change the subject here. Answer me honestly. What am I to you?”

”You are my woman.”

”That’s not good enough. I need you to elaborate on what that means to you. Am I your temporary bed warmer and blood bag, or am I more? Which is it?”

Masema scoffed at your response, looking around like the balcony had the answers. “What brought this on? Hm? Was it the way those women acted around me? I assure you, I did not acknowledge their advances because I am not the kind of man to do that. Jealousy is unbecoming of you, little one.”

”How would I know what kind of man you are? Judging by the way you won’t answer a simple question, perhaps I am finally seeing the man beneath the mask. Now answer my damn question. What. Are. We?” You challenged back, stepping into his space. A small part of you knew you shouldn’t be egging him on, he was still a vampire and much stronger than you, but you were tired of him skirting the issue.

His jaw ticked and nostrils flared as you glared up at him, your unique scent wafting into his nose and temporarily making him forget the tone you were addressing him in. He stared down at you after he collected himself, speaking in a low tone. “Do you think so low of me that you believe I would betray you in such a manner? Have I not treated you with the respect you deserve?”

”That is not what I am asking you, Masema. Dammit, quit avoiding the question or I will walk away right now,” you threw your hands up, exasperated at the man in front of you. Had he been any other, you wouldn’t still be standing here and arguing, but you did love Masema, as difficult and confusing as he was.

His eyes widened a fraction, the thought of you walking out of his life leaving a feeling of despair heavy in his gut. He is mind raced, trying to find the words to tell you how he felt but his throat seemed to freeze up and tongue too heavy, rendering him unable to answer you. You took his silence as confirmation to your worst fears, water gathering in your eyes as you turned to leave, but Masema was quick to stop you. Corvina’s words finally sank in for him and he decided to at least try. His arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled you against his chest, dipping his head so he could speak directly into your ear.

”You wanted to know what you are to me? You are everything and I do not know how to handle it. You make me feel as though I border on madness and I cannot stand being so out of control. As for what we are…princess, whatever you want us to be is what we will be, even if commitment is not something I am good at. That I left you feeling so uncertain how I felt about you is my great shame, and if you will let me, I will make it up to you. This I swear. Just please, please, stay,” he whispered, the vulnerability in his voice melting through the anger you felt earlier. You turn to face him, seeing the softness in his eyes and you knew he was being sincere, but you needed a little more.

”Promise me you will try? I cannot know your thoughts if you don’t share them with me. And promise me you will not let another hang on you like earlier. I can’t stand that,” you spoke softly, feeling his hands cup your face as he slowly walked you backward towards the exterior wall of the manor, between the windows and the door.

”Yes, I promise. Whatever you want, anything you desire, it is yours if you wish it,” he muttered against your lips before claiming them with his own, one hand cupping the back of your head to keep you from smacking against the rough stone. You two made out right there for a few minutes before Masema decided he need to have you now, so he pulled you back into the house and through the hallways, into the study not far from the ballroom.

No sooner had you both entered the warmly lit study than Masema had you backed against the door and kissing you like a starving man. You sighed into the kiss, feeling the tips of his fangs graze your bottom lip as his hands wandered down your body.

”Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He asked between kisses, his free hand reaching behind you to unzip your dress just enough to slide it and your lace bra down to expose your breasts to his wandering mouth.

”Masema, what if someone catches us?” You breathed out, making no move to stop him.

”I don’t give a fuck. Let them watch me pleasure my lady,” he growled against your skin before he wrapped his lips around your nipple, biting gently and sucking it into a hardened peak. You gasped, hands resting on his shoulder to keep your balance while his hands slipped underneath the skirts of your cocktail dress, pulling them up to unclip the garters from your stockings and slide your underwear down your legs. He released your nipple with a pop and dropped to his knees, stuffing the lace garment into his pants pocket before tenderly grabbing your ankle and lifting it to his lips.

It was erotic, watching him kiss up your leg over your stockings and place it over his shoulder. It wasn’t the first time he had gone down on you, but this time was different. It felt as if he was worshiping you, wanting to prove that he meant his words from earlier. Masema bunched your skirts at your hips, his lips slowly making their way towards your core.

All thoughts of being seen by any of wandering attendees left your mind the moment his tongue made contact with your folds, his low hum vibrating against you and causing you to moan. You went to cover your mouth with your hand in an attempt to muffle your sounds but Masema pulled back and slapped your inner thigh.

”No. Do not silence yourself. I want to hear all your pretty noises,” he said lowly, waiting until your hand returned to your side before he dove back in. You couldn’t have quieted yourself if you tried, your moans and sighs bouncing off the walls as Masema licked and sucked at you lewdly. He moved one hand from your hip to between your legs, slipping two fingers into your warmth and seeking out your sweet spot with the intention of making you cry out his name. You did so shortly afterwards, your legs shaking as he drank everything you gave him.

He stood up after you had come down and pushed his head away, wiping his mouth with his hand before gathering you into his arms to carry you over to the leather couch in front of the fireplace. He laid you down gently before removing his suit jacket, tossing it over the back of the couch before removing his pressed white shirt and placing it atop the jacket. The view of his toned chest and the evidence of his own arousal outlined in his black dress pants had your mouth watering, and he chuckled when you spread your legs almost mindlessly at the sight.

”Eager now, are we princess?” He teased, undoing his belt and button, sliding his trousers and boxers down enough to free himself. It was too risky to undress fully at the moment, but you both needed the other too much to wait. Masema climbed on top of you, kissing up your neck and across your jawline on his way to your bruised lips. He reached between you and gripped his hard cock, giving himself a few strokes before rubbing the tip through your slick, chuckling when your hips bucked and you gasped as he brushed against your sensitive nub.

He eased his thick length into you, relishing in the way your eyes fluttered and you sighed as you stretched around him. Where normally he would have set a harsh pace, he opted for slow and deep, one hand wrapping around your throat as he held your eyes with his while the other gripped the armrest. The leather creaked underneath you, Masema grunting while you moaned. You hands had been gripping his sides, unsure what to do as he normally tied you up to keep you from touching him.

“Touch me,” he whispered against your lips, humming when you immediately began mapping the contours of his torso with your soft touch. The passion built between you two, the intense but Masema releasing your throat to wrap his arm around your waist, lifting you slightly so he could leave open mouthed kisses across your throat and chest. You felt your peak building, your whines and gasps taking on a desperate edge. Masema released the armrest and leaned back a bit, reaching down to circle your bundle with his thumb.

”That’s it darling, give it to me,” he groaned, feeling your walls spasm around him as you cried out his name. It was the sweetest sound he ever heard, and the sight of you coming undone beneath him was enough to send him over as well with a stuttered gasp. You kissed each other as you both caught your breaths, Masema pulling out and pulling you into his arms as you both laid on the couch.

Even though the memory of the argument had long since faded into the recesses of your mind, Masema wanted to make sure his point came across clearly now so there was no doubt. He took one of your hands in his, placing it on his chest over his heart.

“Never doubt that this is yours, princess,” he said, entwining your fingers together and gazing at you with a softness you had not come to expect from him. You didn’t know how to respond to him, so you opted for a sweet kiss that told him of your love without voicing those words. You both laid there for a while, content to remain in the other's arms before the distant sounds of the music being played in the ballroom reminded you that Masema was here for business.

Once you had straightened up your appearances the best you could, you both walked out of the study together, arm and arm with soft smiles on your faces. When you entered the ballroom again, you saw the way the previous women seemed to gawk at Masema, but before jealousy could take root in your soul, you felt his breath fanning across your ear while his words brought a grin to your face.

”Remember princess, I am all for you.”

Tagging: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @whitedarkmoonflower @gemini-mama @zaldritzosrose @alexagirlie

@legitalicat @thenameswinter99

#masema #masema dagar #vampire!masema #masema x reader #wheel of time #wot

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babybluebex · 1 year ago

Text

kiss kiss | joseph quinn x fem!reader

summary: you had seen it all over your pinterest and tiktok, the white buttoned shirts that girls kissed with their favorite lipstick to decorate the shirts with a unique and loving detail for their boyfriends. it looked good, every attempt you had seen looked different and cute, and you couldn’t help yourself when you saw the white buttoned shirt in the back of joe’s closet... pairing: joseph quinn x fem!reader tags: fluff fluff fluff, memories of your relationship with joe, a brief mention of sex but no actual smut author’s note: yeah so i had a rough go of it for a while and i may not be BACK back yet, but. have this. mwah

“Hey, babe?” you called, carrying the wire hanger out to the living room. Joe had been working all day, and he had his feet up now, watching Succession all over again to relax from his own work, and he furrowed his eyebrows when he saw the shirt. “Does this fit you anymore?”

“Yeah,” Joe answered. “Why?”

You shrugged. “No reason,” you replied, thinking fast for an excuse. “Going through our closets to see what we can donate. I just haven’t seen you wear it in a while, so I was wondering.”

“Are you gonna donate that?” Joe asked. “What else have you decided to get rid of?”

“Not a lot,” you told him. “The itchy pink jumper my mum got me for Christmas, and those shoes that pinch your toes.”

Joe crossed his arms behind his head and nodded, and he said, “You can get rid of that shirt. The sleeves are weird and pull at my armpits.”

“Good to know,” you nodded, and you went back to the bedroom. You already had your favorite array of lipsticks laid out, pink and red and brown and even a daring purple added to the lineup, and you settled yourself on the carpet. All of the pictures you had seen had used red lipstick, and you debated which lipstick to use for the task.

Maybe the Dior one that Joe had bought you to wear to the premiere of Stranger Things? That night had been fun— it was the first time you had ever gone to an event with Joe, even though you had been together for years, and he had gone all out in order to make sure it was memorable for you. He had rented an expensive Dior dress for you, with chic makeup to match, and he had gifted you the tube of red lipstick with an engraved xx Eddie on the cap as a keepsake. You rarely used it, afraid to damage it or ruin it in any way, and the bullet of the lipstick was still firm and crisp, having been used maybe twice in its whole lifetime. That night, you had partied with the cast, gotten pictures taken with your lover, and lived the high life for the first time ever. It was so much fun, but you definitely could not do it more than once a year.

Or maybe you should use the ancient lipstick that you had bought at Primark the night of your first date with Joe. You had been getting ready to meet the cute guy that you had matched with on Hinge, and you had realized in a panic that you had no lipstick. You rarely wore makeup back then, but you wanted to make an impression on this guy for some reason, so you ran to the nearest store and bought the first lipstick you could find. You were late to dinner and apologized profusely to Joseph, age 25, from South London, but he had smiled and said he didn’t care. “M’just glad you showed up at all,” he said. His chocolate eyes had melted over dinner as he looked at you, and, towards the end of the meal, he said, “You look beautiful, by the way. Like, your pictures on Hinge are nice, but in person, you’re so… You’re stunning.” Of course, you had assumed he was just trying to get in your pants, but he had departed the night with a kiss to your cheek and a wish to see you again, and you knew that he was something special. You couldn’t ever bear to get rid of the, at this point, four year old lipstick, and you kept it buried in the depths of your makeup bag.

Or maybe, just maybe, you should use the Maybelline lipstick that you had been wearing the day that Joe landed his job as Eddie. You had had a job interview that day and had read somewhere that red lipstick conveyed confidence, and you had gone to the interview with little hopes of anything. You were somewhat glad that they didn’t immediately offer you the job, and you knew that waiting for a response was better, but you still felt glum as you slumped back to the flat. You felt unaccomplished and worthless, and you couldn’t even settle fully into the door before Joe had flung his arms around you and spun you around. “Oh, Jesus!” you had cried, and Joe giggled as he kissed you hard, smearing your lipstick all over his own lips. “Joe! What’s happened?”

“I got the job!” he told you, his eyes wild and bright as he held your face. “I just got off the phone with my agent, they want me to be Eddie!”

“They?” you asked. You vaguely remembered a few months ago, how you and Wes had helped Joe prepare for a self-tape for a character named Eddie, but you knew very little about the role or project past that.

“The Duffers,” Joe said. “Stranger Things, Netflix, they want me! They’re offering me a role!”

“Netflix?” you repeated incredulously. “Oh my God! You got it!”

The night had ended with Chinese takeaway, passionate sex, and an email that you had gotten your own job. It was the happiest day you had had in months, and, even though you had no reason to keep that lipstick, you saw it as a good-luck charm.

You couldn’t decide. You wanted to use all of them, because they all represented something different, and you finally uncapped the Dior lipstick. You carefully applied it to your lips, taking care not to make it messy with the lack of mirror, and you collected the white shirt in your hands. Then, you pressed your waxy lips to the white material of the collar, inking in the shape of your lips forever. It looked cute, and you smiled at your work. One kiss mark was downright adorable, but you wanted more, like the ones you had seen, and you kissed right under the lapel of the shirt, pushing hard against your lips to really make sure the lipstick stayed.

At the end, there were probably a dozen kiss marks littering the top of the dress shirt, and you couldn’t control your glee. You just hoped that Joe would like it as much as you did. You got up from the floor and retrieved a makeup wipe, and you wiped up your messy mouth as you padded out to the hallway. “Babe,” you said softly, capturing the wipe in your fist. “Can you come try something on real quick?”

Joe nodded and grunted as he sat up from the couch, and he swiped a quick kiss on your forehead as he passed you to the bedroom. You slipped by him to get there first, and you picked up the shirt and held it out to him. Confusion etched Joe’s face as he looked at the makeup-covered shirt, and he said, “What is this?”

“I saw a Maison Margiela shirt a lot like this,” you explained. “And I thought you’d like it, but I also wanted it to be personal, y’know? Like… I don’t know, I feel dumb now—“

“No, no, don’t do that,” Joe said quickly. “You made this? Is this the shirt you just asked me about a few minutes ago?” You nodded timidly, and Joe smiled softly. “I love it. Will you help me try it on?”

“I mean, you know how it fits,” you started, but Joe wrinkled up his forehead and shook his head.

“I wanna wear it to dinner tonight,” Joe said. “And maybe, like, every other day too. Definitely to an event, so everyone can see how cute and creative you are.”

“Really?” you asked.

“Of course,” Joe said. He shucked his t-shirt over his head, mussing up his messy curls, and you helped him into the buttoned shirt, being careful not to smudge or aggravate the lipstick marks. You dutifully did up the small buttons for him, and you smiled at your handiwork as it laid on Joe’s chest and collarbones.

“Here,” you said, steering him towards the mirror. “How do you like it?”

Joe examined his reflection, his fingers lightly ghosting over the red lips, and he grinned like a child in excitement. “I love it,” he said. “It looks so good.”

“But it fits weird,” you mumbled, tugging at his shirt sleeves. “Does it still pull at your armpits?”

“Yeah,” Joe said. “But I don’t care about that. This is my new favorite shirt.”

“Joe,” you cooed with watery eyes, and you pressed your cheek into his shoulder, kissing his neck gently. “You’re lovely.”

“You’re lovelier,” Joe said. “Making me this? You’re adorable. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said softly. “My sweet boy.”

Joe did, in fact, wear that shirt to dinner that night, and you couldn’t control your smile all night. Your baby was a chronic outfit-repeater anyway, but the shirt became a regular part of his wardrobe, especially when he was traveling and felt particularly homesick. He would call you with tears in his eyes, saying how much he missed you, and the camera always showed that he was wearing that shirt. Finally, it came time for premieres and things, and, even though you declined being on his arm for the Quiet Place premiere, he had a piece of you with him underneath his suit jacket all night, right over his heart.

#joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn rpf #joe quinn rpf

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