Summery: As a photographer you're always taking pictures of Alysa, who doesn't seem to mind at all. After making a bet, the reward is something you can't see to bear losing.
Request: could you write photographer reader x alysa, where reader is constantly taking pics of alysa and she dosen’t mind, then reader jokes or makes some kind of bet where alysa tells they can take pics of her in bed, could be a fade to black or have reader keep a polaroid or two somewhere special…
(Alysa Liu x Female Reader)
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Pictures always held such a special place in your heart, reminders of moments that were soon to pass.
Your favorite subject was Alysa, everything about her sparked creativity in you. With her natural smile, effortless beauty, and radiant energy she was very photogenic. It was almost impossible for you to resist not taking a photo every second.
She didn’t seem to mind either. Thinking it was the cutest thing ever, she would often strike up a pose whenever she felt extra spontaneous. Other times it was almost like she could envision the idea you had in your head and carry it out without a word spoken.
Alysa had always seen the great potential of your talent. Even from your work that you had done when you were younger. You had taken her to your parents house a while back and showed her your old bedroom. Photographs filled the walls, old cameras placed on your shelf, your closet that you had turned into a makeshift dark room at one point. Her heart felt warm seeing the clear evidence of your passion at such an early age.
So it didn’t come as a surprise to her when your art was quite popular among the public. Alysa was so proud of how far you had come from the beginning, how hard you worked to get to where you were. Seeing your photos in various magazines and the awards you won from festivals.
She strongly believed that you deserved everything you received. The amount of heart and soul expressed in your photos was something she admired. She had often joked to herself that you could turn the trashiest scene into something beautiful…which was how this whole thing started.
While taking a hike one Saturday afternoon the conversation had been flowing just as it usually was. Talking about whatever came to mind, cracking a joke every now and then that uplifted the mood. You had spotted a trail that had been made off the main path and knew there could be some potential photo opportunity.
“How about over here lysa?” you said pointing in the direction of the trail. “There could be something around here if we take a little detour”
Alysa stops walking and heads over to the trail to take a look. “I don’t know…seems a bit sketchy plus we’re almost at the end” she says, giving you a pleading face. She had been hinting the past 5 minutes that she was tired. You give her a look in hopes of gaining her approval, “Please?”. She rolled her eyes before starting up the trail, “Fine…”.
Smiling, you head up the trail as well excited for what could possibly be at the end.
15 minutes had passed since you started the trail and you didn’t see an end in sight. Alysa had started to get more obvious with her complaining, “I told you we should’ve just stayed on the main…but no you wanna go and explore”. You roll your eyes playfully, “Just wait lysa, it’s gonna be worth it when we get there”. At least you hoped it was because if it wasn’t this whole detour would be a waste of time. “It better be” Alysa says, clearly not joking.
Finally the trees started to thin out and you could tell the trail was about to end. “Look see, I told you we’d get here soon” you say jogging up clearly excited.
You pushed past the bushes and branches buzzing with curiosity, only to be met with…nothing. Not nothing, but it wasn’t exactly what you were hoping for. Trashed, with small bits of plastic bottles strewn across the landscape and trees with graffiti carvings on them.
Alysa had stopped behind you and looked around before turning towards you. She couldn’t help but feel a little bad about the disappointment she knew you were going through. “I mean...there’s maybe still some potential here” she said hopefully as she walked around a bit. “No, this was just a big waste of time. You were right…” you said looking at her expecting her to celebrate. However Alysa wasn’t filled with much joy or pride right now.
After everything you had been saying on the way over about how this could be the perfect spot for your next shoot filled with excitement and anticipation, compared to now the feeling was much different. “Whatever, let's just go home” you said as you began to turn around. “Wait!” Alysa said as she grabbed your arm.
She knew the kind of talent you had in you, “I’ll bet you can make this place look great if you give it a shot, you know. With how talented you are and all..”. She gave you a smile before dragging you out to the middle to take a look around.
It wasn’t much, not a complete mess but still a bit difficult to capture. The feeling of Alysa praising your work was something that was hard to ignore so you decided to give it one shot, “I mean, I guess I could try…what’s in it for me though?” you said turning towards her. Alysa looks a bit surprised, “In it for you?”. You nod. She takes a moment to think before a thought comes to her, smirking a bit as looking back at you. “Well?” you say waiting patiently for her answer.
“How about, if you can make this picture go viral for being a good piece…I’ll let you take some pictures of me” She says smiling. You were a bit confused for a second, “I always take pictures of you, how is this any different?”.
She walks up to you and slides her arms around your waist, coming to talk softly against your ear, “This time, they’ll be for your eyes only”. The realization hits you after a second before you eagerly grab your camera and start to walk around to look for a good spot.
“Just you watch lysa, this is gonna be the best damn photo you’ve ever seen” you say while walking around a bit, the excitement has come back but for a different reason. After seeing your newfound excitement, Alysa feels proud of herself for reigniting the passion for this spot that she had seen previously.
It had been almost an hour before you finished up. Walking back to where Alysa had been sitting on a rock you let her know you were finished. “Can I see them?” She asks, reaching out for the camera. “Woah hold your horses lady, you can see them after they go viral” you say with a smile.
“Unbelievable” she says as she playfully rolls her eyes, curiously lingering within her.
After you returned home you had gotten straight to work, making sure to pay extra attention to details and whatnot. If there was anything you wanted it was that prize Alysa had promised you.
Finally after a week you felt like the final result was good enough to show the public. Posting the final results on instagram and other platforms, even after all the work you had done you would be lying if you said you weren’t at least a bit nervous about the response to the work.
“I finally finished it” you said as you climbed into bed with Alysa.
“Really?” She said, pulling out her phone to look. Opening it up she was amazed, it looked almost like a new location. She would have never guessed it was the same place had it not been for the rock in the back she had spent so long sitting on. “Baby…this is amazing, I’m shocked” she said looking up at you smiling.
A grin broke across your face as she talked about the photo. “You think I’ll win?” You said in a teasing voice. “It would be crazy if you didn’t win” she said, obviously proud of you. With that you climbed into bed and spent the rest of the night with her doing the things you normally would.
After 2 days you decided to check on the post on some platforms and the results were better than you had hoped. Thousands of people had loved it, praising your art across all platforms. After seeing it you decided to wait until Alysa came home from practice to show her the results.
When Alysa came home later that night you were making dinner in the kitchen, smiling because you knew you had won.
You walked over to her at the door and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Hi lysa, how was it?”. She practically collapses in your arms, “Ughh tiring…as much as I love this sport it really knocks me out”. You smile a bit as you pull back from the hug.
“What’s that smile for?” Alysa says, giving you a suspecting look. “Oh nothing…maybe take a look at my socials” you say as you walk back to the kitchen to resume dinner. That's when Alysa remembers the bet she had made a couple of days ago. She had been so caught up in work and skating that it had completely slipped her mind. “Right, that picture. I completely forgot about that” she says as she lays on the couch to rest.
“I didn’t” you say happily from the kitchen.
“Well of course you didn’t” she says rolling her eyes a bit before taking out her phone to check the progress. You smiled from the kitchen and watched her face as she opened up the post.
“This is much more than I expected” she says looking up at you. “Hey” you said, giving her side eye, “You didn’t think it would do good or what?”. Alysa gives you a smile, “I thought it would do amazing, this is much better than I thought. I’m proud of you”.
You walk over to the couch to give her a kiss and get back to the kitchen. A moment passes before you finally ask, “So…didn’t you promise me something if I won…?”. A smile playing at your lips. She looks up from her phone at the couch and smirks, “Yes I did and what about it?”.
She gets up from her place at the couch and comes to wrap her arms around your waist, her head resting on your shoulder as you cook. “Nothing, just giving you a reminder”, your smile getting harder to hide as the moments passed. Alysa’s voice goes soft and low, “Aren’t you an impatient one?”.
It’s enough to make your stomach flutter a bit afterwards, “I’m just excited”. She smiles and then goes to the room to change out of her practice clothes.
After dinner you and Alysa are laying in bed with each other, a movie playing on the screen in front of the two of you. She had been getting increasingly closer to you as time moved on. Soon enough Alysa was laying on top of you, your hand running through her hair as you watched the movie.
It wasn't soon before Alysa had grown a bit bored of the movie and she decided now was the perfect time for your reward. Her hand sliding themselves around your waist as she began to press a kiss to your neck every now and then, making sure to start slowly so you didn't catch onto her plan so quickly.
Soon enough she was kissing your neck as you hand began to thread through her hair a bit, guiding her in the direction you wanted her. The movie had been long forgotten as her hand slid under your shirt while yours slide under hers to feel her bare back. Soon enough you moved her mouth onto yours and sat up a bit, the kiss starting off soft and slow before turning into something hungry and messy.
With Alysa on your lap she began to move her hips as she kissed you. Little sounds coming out of her as she did. You thought of something a quickly acted on it, grabbing your camera off the bedside table and positioning her in front of the mirror. With Alysa still riding herself on your leg the reflection was clear as day in the mirror, you snapped a couple of photos and kissed her neck.
Afterwards, you slide her off. She whines a bit, giving you a pleading look before realizing what's next. You slide her shirt and pants off her and begin to kiss down her stomach, her hands already threading themselves in your hair. "Can I?" you ask, not sure of whether or not you were allowed to mark her. She nodded eagerly and you began to suck little bruises into her skin on her stomach. Soothing them afterwards with a swipe of your tongue.
Alysa was getting a bit needy, she gently pressed your head down and pleaded, "Please baby". You smirk and kiss down her thighs, "Aren't you an impatient one?". Feeling satisfied repeating her words as your own you mark her thighs as well before grabbing your camera again. Taking a 2 more pictures, one of the marks you had made on her stomach and the ones on her thighs.
She had never felt camera shy before this, a blushing forming on her cheeks as you took the pictures. "Lysa you're so gorgeous" you mutter before giving her what she had been so desperate for. The room filled with noises of pleasure that came from the both of you.
Afterwards you had both fallen asleep around the same time. In the morning you went straight to work developing the film. After a few days the pictures were finally ready.
They were even more beautiful than you had anticipated, the lighting and especially the subject was breathtaking. You showed Alysa after she had come home from practice. A pink tint forming on her face.
“Don’t I always let you get what you want?” she says giving you a kiss. You can’t help but smile into the kiss, knowing that you’ll always keep these photographs on you. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little keepsake on you at all times.
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I loved making this, I love the way you guys think! By the way this is not the obsessive Alysa fic I had mention writing earlier so don't worry there is more things to come
summary: you were recently hired by hybe, to take photos of katseye in their latest era, including solo photos. you were a huge fan of lara ever since dream academy and you were inlove with her too. lara asked for your number, you met up, hung out, and secretly started dating!
tags: fluff, strangers to lovers, wlw, slow burn, confession
word count: 1.2k words
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After checking your phone multiple times for any company to hire, you felt tired. its been 2 hours of checking, you look at the time, its .. 12:43 AM?! Seriously, you knew you had to go to bed. You brushed your teeth and tucked yourself into bed, exhausted. You sigh, setting an alarm for next morning, before finally closing your eyes.
You woke up at 7:15 AM, checking your phone and finding an email from... HYBE? You open it, thinking its fake, you read the email. "Hello, Y/N L/N. We have checked your photos, and we love the quality! We'd like to hire you to shoot photos of our global girl group, KATSEYE. Please arrive by next week, Sunday at 8:00 AM. Here is the location, we will discuss more by the time you arrive. Thank you. Regards, HYBE Entertainment.".
You were in shock, theres no way! You clicked on the location, and it was the company building, you opened the account, everything was legit! You couldn't wait, you were practically bouncing of excitement, you had to tell your friends and family right away!!
Timeskip, the day came, you walked in the building with your equipment, showing the security your id and entry code, as they walked you to the shooting area, and then you saw her.. Lara. You greeted the other members, but you were still starstruck from seeing Lara, she's right in front of you!! "Get it together, Y/N.." you thought to yourself, before setting up your cameras.
"Alright, We'll start with solo photos, then the group photos, alright?" You ask, as they nodded. Sophia, looking glamorous, Megan, looking so beautiful, Daniela, looking so fine, Yoonchae, looking so cute, Manon, looking so sharp, and Lara, looking so HOT. It all came together perfectly in solos and group photos.
Lara notices your blush, she thought you were so adorable. "Hey, Y/N, was it?" You nod, almost turning red. "Do you mind if i had your number, id love to be friends." Lara asks, as you nod almost immediately. You exchange numbers, and KATSEYE left the room, probably to go rehearse.
You sigh, you couldn't wait to text Lara as soon as you get home!! You packed your stuff, left the building and took an uber to your house. You jumped on your bed, giggling and kicking your feet, you just got Lara's private number!!
You text Lara, deleting your messages, carefully wording your sentences. Eventually, you typed "hi lara! its me, Y/N! the photographer from today!!" You slowly hit send, embarrassed, giggling again.
You realized it was getting late, so you head to bed, to sleep. You couldn't get Lara out of your head, you felt as if it was impossible to fall asleep.
You woke up next morning, to gain a text from Lara. "hey, Y/N! im free 2day, wondering if we could meetup at earth café?" She asks, you text back "sure! at 9?" Lara reacts with a thumbs up. You got ready, it was in an hour, so you had to hurry.
You walked into the café, quickly finding Lara. She waves at you, you wave back and sat next to her. "Hi, Lara!! Hows your day? How are the girls? Are they good?" You ask, Lara nods, "Yeah, yeah they are! How are you, Y/N?" She asks. "Im good" you reply.
You talked, complained, and gossiped. Lara took a closer look at you, "Wait, she's kinda cute.", Lara thought to herself. She was slowly developing a mutual crush.
It was 12 PM, you both had to leave. You took an uber home again, and when you arrived home, you took some more practice photos, to get even better, and you checked the HYBE account since they posted the photos you shot, and you checked the comments as the eyekons talked and complimented the KATSEYE members. You sigh, and put your phone down to continue practicing.
Timeskip, its been 3 months, you and Lara were both deeply inlove but none confessed yet. Lara messaged you, and asked you to go to a fancy restaurant, she told you to wear a good dress. you wore a wine red tight dress, and when you arrived, someone escorted you to the vip area, and sat you in front of Lara. She looked so hot today, you both couldn't help but glance at each other's chests.
"I need to talk to you about something important, Y/N." Lara says, you nod and ask, "What is it, Lara?". There is some silence before she finally manages to spit it out, "Y/N, can you be my girlfriend..?". You blush, shocked, theres no way Lara just asked you that! "R-really?! YES! I'd love to!" You cry.
Lara quickly got up from her chair, hugs you in her arms as she kisses your cheek. You hug her back, tightly. Your dream came true by accident! Reading all those fanfictions really were worth it!! You couldnt wait to see what this relationship would look in the future!!
A/N — Accidentally deleted this request. Original request was: "Can I request Artist!Reader with Dazai and Kunikida? Who just likes to paint/write about/take pictures of them a lot?
Just a Muse x Artist dynamic please <3"
You read my mind, I was considering writing this last night actually. Thank you for your request
DAZAI:
Extremely prideful in being your muse
Brags a lot about it to the rest of the ADA
He's always ready to strike a pose. Although they're usually rather dramatic or silly unless you catch him off guard or specifically request otherwise
Sometimes gives you particularly silly writing requests when he's bored
Dramatically gasps and compares your work to famous artists' work every time you show him what your working on
The real author Dazai Osamu was an artist, so I like to headcanon that bsd dazai is too
Exchanges advice about art with you
Although isn't knowledge about photography. May occasionally take a blurry photo then complain to you about how easy you make it look
He is very nosy
Asks what you're drawing or writing every time he catches you creating something. He's very interested in what you create
Has several of your pieces framed in his home and asks you to sign them
Absolutely loves when you create anything of him, keeps everything that isn't framed in a box in his room
Occasionally buys you supplies. Although is always complains about the cost
KUNIKIDA:
Very supportive of you. Buys you supplies more frequently than Dazai would and helps you clean up if you spill any paint
Stores anything you give him neatly in a file that he keeps at home. If he's feeling stressed or upset about anything at work he likes to look through said file. It's calming to him
You occasionally catch him quietly reading some of your work and admiring your artwork and photographs
Definitely also has a lot of framed pieces in his home. He loves to admire them in his spare time
He isn't be a massive fan of having his picture taken unexpectedly. Prefers if you ask him beforehand
Reminds you to eat and stay hydrated while painting and writing, he doesn't want you to neglect your personal needs as a result of being too focused
If you catch him while he isn't busy, he's more than happy to sit quietly and watch you paint him.
Tried to sketch you once. Had no idea how you made it look so simple. It gave him insight and made him respect your artwork even more
Loves listening to you discuss anything art related while organising paperwork or tidying
While he's not as loud as Dazai about his enthusiasm for being your muse, he very much still enjoys it. The time he spends with you as you create is relaxing, especially in his down time.
Enjoys glancing at your work as you create it. He likes seeing how it develops over time
Likes when you suprise him with writing or artwork
With the fall of the Titans, Paradis is no longer completely sealed from the world — but trust is still a fragile thing. Not that Y/N cares. She's a foreign journalist and war photographer with a mission: become the first outsider brave (or foolish) enough to tell Paradis’ story from within.
Levi
He doesn't trust Y/N for a second and sees her as a liability.
If they don't censor her, she could doom Paradis all over again.
But over time, Levi sees her patching up her own wounds, sneaking cigarettes with soldiers, and treating even the lowest-ranked cadets like their words matter. That earns his respect.
Y/N's camera annoys him. “Tch. Point that thing somewhere else”. He doesn't get cameras, therefore he doesn't trust it.
Deep deep down though, he appreciates someone trying to document the mess they survived. (Even if he’ll never admit it).
She’s a walking mess — hair never brushed the same way twice, camera strap tangled with her bag, ink stains on her fingers. Her clothes are strange too — loose trousers, suspenders, shirts with sleeves rolled halfway. Half the time she’s got her shoes untied.
It drives Levi insane.
“Button your collar,” he grumbles. “Too hot,” she says, camera clicking. “Also, not your collar.”
He mutters about “sloppy foreigners” but somehow ends up following her around, picking up her dropped notebooks, wiping dirt off her lens, adjusting her straps before they snag on something. It’s not duty anymore... it’s reflex.
One day, rain’s coming down hard and she throws her jacket over a kid’s shoulders. Her camera’s soaked, she doesn’t care.
Levi’s jaw tightens. She’s reckless. But when she turns to grin at him through the downpour, he feels something crack open. That dangerous warmth he hasn’t let himself feel since before the world ended.
He's fallen.
Levi doesn’t allow the thought to grow. He buries it deep under routine, under paperwork. But at night, when her laughter drifts through HQ’s halls, he listens. He hates that he listens.
Eren
When Y/N arrives knocking down the walls, he almost kills her. Eren is hostile; seeing her as part of the world that condemned them.
She’s standing too close, camera raised, asking questions no one else dares to. He warns her once. She doesn’t back off.
“If you get in my way again,” he says quietly, “I’ll eat you next.” She only smirks. “Then at least my obituary will be interesting.”
He should have eaten her right there and then, but something in the way she stared him down, unflinching, planted itself in his head and never left.
From then on, he avoids her like the plague. Jean and Hange call it “running away.” Eren prefers the term “dodging bad press gracefully.”
But none of it matters, because somehow Y/N always finds him. She finds him in the quiet corners of ruined streets, sitting on a step, pretending not to notice her. She finds him at dawn, by the shore, staring at the horizon like he’s trying to memorize the end of the world. And she keeps firing questions that slice through his rhetoric.
“What does freedom mean if it costs everyone else theirs?” “Do you ever miss being right instead of being worshiped?”
He tells her to leave him alone, but she doesn’t listen. She never listens. And for reasons he can’t name, he stops wanting her to. Eren is fascinated by her defiance, but she frustrates him deeply.
Because of her challenging and intrusive questions, she becomes one of the few people who can make him pause.
The realization, of his new feelings, comes slowly. In the way her voice echoes after she’s gone, the way he catches himself remembering her expressions instead of his plans.
One day, she calls him out again: “You keep saying you want to save the island, Eren. But what about yourself?”
He opens his mouth to answer... and nothing comes out. That silence is the truth.
Y/N represents a version of freedom that doesn’t require blood. And to be honest, she knows more about the world than Eren does.
And he’s terrified. Because if he admits he loves her, even to himself, then he has to admit he’s still human.
And humans don’t destroy the world — they grieve it.
Jean
At first, he’s suspicious. Sees her as another outsider trying to make Paradis look like monsters.
But her blunt honesty and visible compassion disarm him.
Jean finds himself watching how she moves through war ruins and listens to survivors — not with pity, but respect. He’s quietly impressed.
Eventually, he becomes her unofficial escort, making sarcastic remarks about her “suicidal curiosity” while secretly admiring that she reminds him of who he wanted to be: someone who still believes in something.
Jean realizes he's in love during one of their 'sketch sessions'.
It starts with a joke: she sits cross-legged on the floor of the barracks, sketchbook open, tongue between her teeth as she caricatures him mid-rant.
“Hold still, soldier boy.”
He rolls his eyes. Jean doesn't get satirical caricature. Ten minutes later he’s kneeling beside her, showing her how to shade with a charcoal stub.
Soon, it becomes routine: late-night drawing sessions after patrol. She sketches the absurd, he sketches the real.
One night she draws a cartoon of two figures painting over the words Devils of Paradis on a crumbling wall. “Hope that makes tomorrow’s paper,” she murmurs.
Jean watches the way she leans over the page and something in his chest pulls taut.
Jean’s reaction? Avoidance, of course. He gets flustered, defensive, starts joking too much around her. But every time she teases him back, his heart races. It’s the first time he’s liked someone who scares him — not because she’s dangerous, but because she sees right through him.
Floch
Absolutely hates her guts. To him, she’s a walking symbol of everything wrong with the outside world.
He’ll call her a spy, accuse her of manipulating people, and might even threaten her early on.
Yet, what unnerves him most is that she isn’t afraid of him.
When she fires back with facts, or challenges his sense of nationalism, he’s forced to confront his own hypocrisy.
Y/N become his most powerful ideological rival and the first person to see the broken boy behind the soldier.
Their fights are infamous around HQ — loud, sharp, and always in public. He calls her naïve, she calls him fascist. And their arguments always end the same — her walking away, him furious that she doesn’t break.
But the worst one happens after she publishes an article criticizing Paradis’ military rule. Floch corners her outside the press room, voice low but shaking. “You think you’re saving us? You’re making us look weak.”
“Maybe you’re scared people will see what strength really looks like.” She fire back.
The silence that follows burns. He sees the disappointment in her eyes — not fear, disappointment. And it guts him more than any insult. She walks away without another word.
That’s when it hits him: He realizes, with bitter clarity, that he’s falling for the only person who doesn’t worship or fear him. He hates it. Denies it. So he doubles down, becomes crueler, colder, anything to prove she doesn’t affect him.
For the next few days, she avoids him. No quick remarks in passing, no arguments. Just silence. It’s unbearable. He tells himself he doesn’t care, but every time he sees her laughing with someone else, something in his chest twists.
When they finally cross paths again, he says nothing — just stands there, fists tight, wanting to apologize but not knowing how.
He doesn’t want to win against her anymore. He just wants her to look at him the way she used to, even if it’s in anger.
Armin
Instantly intrigued. He sees her as living proof that curiosity survives even after hell.
They’d probably talk late into the night about history, philosophy, and how nations rebuild after atrocities.
He’d want to learn about her world: her journalism, her protests, her ways of holding power accountable.
In return, she’d remind him of what he’s fighting for: connection. There’s mutual admiration there.
Y/N is also keen on teaching him photography.
She drags him outside after every briefing. “You think too much. Come on, light’s perfect.”
Her hands guide his, adjusting the aperture, the focus ring. Explains the different type of portraits, the perfect golden hours. "It’s like breathing. Slow down the world long enough to see it.”
He peers through the lens and the island blurs into color and silence. For once, everything looks… gentle.
When he develops the photo later, Armin sees it's blurry, overexposed, but her reflection is caught in the glass beside him. She’s smiling.
That’s the moment.
Armin stares at the photo until the paper curls in his hand. For someone who understands logic and cause, he can’t explain why her laugh lingers like an echo in his chest.
His reaction is quiet. He tries to analyze it. Tells himself it’s admiration, intellectual connection, nothing more. But when she ruffles his hair and calls him “professor,” his face burns.
He doesn’t fall all at once. He drifts — a tide slowly pulling him somewhere safe
Connie
At first, he’s confused why anyone would willingly step foot on their cursed island. But quickly warms up to her once he realizes she’s not there to judge.
He’d probably be one of the first to laugh at her jokes, help her navigate the island, or pose awkwardly for her photos “Wait—did I blink again?”.
To him, she’s proof life goes on. That maybe they can still be seen as people, not devils. He’d protect her like a sister and make sure she never gets lost in the darker corners of Paradis.
Connie notices how she photographs everything — even the mundane. When she points the lens at him mid-bite, he chokes on bread.
“Perfect! Realism,” she teases.
“You trying to ruin my reputation?”
“What reputation?”
Their friendship forms on teasing and laughter. She shows him her photos of protests: smoke, raised fists, defiance, and he listens, fascinated. He starts accompanying her on interviews, helping carry gear, pretending it’s for “security.”
When does Connie realize he likes Y/N more than just a sister?
It happens mid-laugh. They’re joking about how awful his first photo turned out — him cross-eyed, mouth open. She’s laughing so hard she can’t breathe.
And suddenly, he stops. Just… watches her. The light hits her face just right.
Connie’s not the type to overthink, but the warmth that spreads through him is both terrifying and familiar. The kind you feel when you finally find home after too long.
He gets quiet after that.
He doesn’t know how to say it, but he realizes, with a small, honest panic, that he doesn’t just want to make her laugh... He wants to be someone worth writing about.
And suddenly, every joke hides a heartbeat.
Description: Over the past three months, your career has grown by leaps and bounds. Yet at the same time, you can't help feeling dissatisfied. A lot of your feelings stem from what you did the last time you saw him. Jake Seresin. Lieutenant Jake Seresin. It had been fun, in the hangar, under the dead of night - passionate and hot. So too had been the video you filmed and the pictures you'd snapped. But hindsight, well, maybe there is a reason why they say "Hindsight is Twenty-Twenty". Because Jake hasn't called, despite how badly you want him to. A new assignment in North Island might have the potential to change everything for Jake and our Shutterbug, including how they approach everything they hold dear.
Warnings: Once again, this is just some porn with plot. The feral plot bunnies ran away with me, I fear.
Word Count: 8502
A/N: Hiya everyone! I'm baaack! Enjoy this sequel to my fic Photo Finish. It's just as smutty and gorgeous as the last one!
This fic is brought to you all by the constant support of @horseshoegirl, @sarahsmi13s and @desert-fern. You're all my heroes and I love you to bits for keeping me from ditching this story before it even started! I couldn't have written it without you!
AO3: Cross-posted Here!
Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!
An old photography teacher of yours once told you never to submit photos with lens flares to any publication, magazine or contest. He considered lens flares the biggest mistake for a rookie photographer. He’d declared, quite adamantly in front of your entire class, using your pictures as examples, how lens flares made photos look cheap and low quality. Given his dislike of the trick of light, he’s also taught you a plethora of tricks to prevent them. Over the many, many years since you left his class, you’ve started to relax and deviate from the rigid rules of photography he once taught you. For a large portion of your career, you've been photographing subjects which cannot be posed in a studio, which helps. Every snick and whir of your camera feels like you are letting go of rules and embracing your art.
You’ve always heard wildlife photography has a tendency to relax photographers' attitudes. It’s a truth you’re very thankful you had the chance to experience. After all, there are no rules when it’s just you, your camera and what feels like the entire world a hair's-breadth away from your camera lens. It’s hard to be frustrated with the sun glancing across your camera lens when it highlights fox kits gamboling in dewy spring grass. Or elk on a frost-bitten winter morning with clouds of their breath dissipating into the clear air. Those pictures were once-in-a-lifetime shots, perfect in their imperfection and richer with the sparkling halos of light.
Being back in New York after years of traveling has made you appreciate the photographs you took even more. Now you feel like you can fully appreciate the wilderness in them. New York is wild in an entirely different way. It’s louder, greyer, more populous, yet just as vibrant. In New York, you’ve been able to capture human nature, snapping minuscule interactions between people who are always in a hurry and always moving. But you also have to work to make enough money to fund your passions. Not having to travel helped bring some stability to your passions. But of all of the things you thought you'd be photographing, fashion models and clothes were never an option. In a way, photographing fashion and fashion models is capturing another kind of wild animal in your lens sights. Models and designers are wholly proprietary and protective over what they consider theirs, whether their clothing or their aesthetic appearance. You’ve had to shoot and reshoot, as well as touch up your photos more than you've ever had to before. Of course, in this case, your primary objective is to make the models and the clothes they are wearing look otherworldly and incredible.
At first, the thrill of doing something new was alluring and exciting. But after a year, trapped in New York City, doing the same thing and working with the same people day in and day out, you can’t help but miss wildlife photography. It's like a persistent ache below your breast bone, something calling you back to the life you lived before. You're missing traveling in arid deserts and verdant forests even more now. And then the US Navy came calling. Now, while you miss the wilderness, you think you might just miss something else, more.
It’s late, half-past three in the early hours of the morning, and you’re sitting out on the balcony attached to your overpriced shoebox of an apartment. You’ve found yourself sitting out here more and more as the summer heat turns into the cool of fall. Your balcony is so small there’s only room for a single chair, and your feet are propped up on the wrought iron railing. New York’s the city which never sleeps and the crackle and groan of the city resonates around you. Your oldest camera, a Canon you bought in college with the pennies and dollars you’d saved from tips earned from waitressing, sits on your lap. All night, you’ve been trying and failing to chase away how unsettled you’ve been feeling by peering through the viewfinder and trying to see things from a different perspective.
But it hasn’t worked. You've been feeling discomfited of late, unsettled and restless. Maybe your listlessness has something to do with your next assignment. You can’t lie, not even to yourself no matter how hard you try. It has everything to do with your next assignment. You should be excited. You should be asleep, because at least if you were asleep, the time would pass sooner. For once, you will not be photographing a new designer collection. In the morning, you're flying to San Diego to take pictures at North Island Naval Base for a follow-up piece sanctioned by the US Navy. Your team is joining you, which should be a comfort, albeit slight and slim. There will be more planes to photograph and possibly shots you can take from within the cockpit or from up in the air.
It took three months to publish the article on the US Navy’s newest hotshot aviation squadron. There had been countless revisions and rounds of approval with the US Navy's Office of Public Relations to greenlight the endeavor. It's been exactly the same amount of time since you met the Dagger Squadron, too - only three months after you edited the photographs, focusing maybe a little too much on one face in particular. Three months after you took the biggest risk of your life, professionally and personally. Three months after you made a sex tape with a client. It doesn’t help that he was a memorable client, too - and how you haven’t been able to forget him.
It's only been two weeks since the magazine hit newsstands with your picture of the Daggers in all their finery near one of the jets on the front cover. Everywhere you go, it seems you see their faces - his face. Your phone has been ringing off the hook ever since. Everyone wants you to take professional portraits of their clients. But your phone has never had the voice you so desperately want to hear on the other end of the line. It's a nationally distributed magazine, after all, and like everything nowadays, published both physically and digitally. The magazine had also mailed special copies to each member of the squadron which was your subject. So he has to have seen it. So why hasn't he called? It's the one question on your mind. It may be the only question on your mind, but it's far from the only thought in your mind.
Chances are, he doesn’t want to talk to you at all. After all, why would he want to?
You couldn't silence the thoughts if you tried - and you have tried, repeatedly. Getting drunk made you maudlin, going out had you seeing his face in every stranger’s and getting laid had made you wish you were with him rather than anyone else. Over and over again you’ve found yourself thinking about those last few moments with him, agonizing over every detail, from the kisses and touches to the last time you saw him. Maybe you hadn’t been entirely clear in your note to him. You can recall the note as if you wrote it yesterday, the note you'd affixed to the flash drive you handed him.
Sure, you told him to call you when he was in New York next. But really, you wanted him to call you, period. Or text you. Something, anything to show you’re lingering in his memory in the same way he lingers in yours. You thought your dalliance had been memorable enough. You hoped you were memorable enough. After all, it's not every day you let a man fuck you up against his jet and record it, forget a man you’ve known only for a few days. Maybe it’s a little silly how attached you’ve gotten to him, given the short time frame, after what should have been completely meaningless sex.
But it’s not meaningless anymore, at least not to you, after how many times you've seen the video since you last saw him. Your camera hadn’t hidden a single thing when you made your little home movie all those nights ago. You’ve seen how his hands had been gentle, his eyes soft. Your entire countenance had been beckoning, beguiling in the throes of passion, needy in a way you’ve never let yourself be before with anyone else. He’s also spoiled you for any other man on the planet - or at least in New York. You haven’t hit the same heights since him, and a part of you is sure you never will again. And now you have to enter the lion’s den, venture right into enemy territory with your head held high and only a camera to shield your too-hungry gaze.
A thump on the railing drags you out of your reverie. Your neighbor’s escape-artist black cat makes himself at home on the railing, paws flexing as his tail lashes through the humid night air. Like you’re in a dream, you lift up the camera and peer through the viewfinder. Tonight, everything seems to be coming back to lens flares. The neon lights fracture in your camera lens, softening the visage of the cat on the railing, green eyes luminescent. With reflexes born of years of wildlife photography, partially stunted after nearly a year of fashion photography, you depress the shutter with a soft snick and a near-silent whir. What you’re left with is a long exposed image - neon lights blurring in the background as one shines behind the cat’s head. Even his fur is blurred, only green eyes in focus, piercing into your soul. It’s perfect, as expected, and you hope it’s an omen for the days to come while you’re in San Diego.
Green eyes, different from those of your neighbor’s cat, haunt you, even more, the following day as you pile out of one of the minivans the studio rented for you and your team, as well as all of your equipment, on the tarmac at North Island. The humid, sticky air stinks of jet fuel and salt water. The wind brushes past you, snatching at your hair and ripping your sun hat right off your head. It's hot as it brushes by, providing no relief to the insistent heat.
Your team just laughs as you chase, bedraggled and exhausted, after your hat. The wind pushes you towards the hangars at the end of the tarmac, colossal doors thrown open while rows of jets stand gleaming. For the first time, you think you understand why Jake is so in love with being up in the air in his jet, how close to the elements he must be with adrenaline coursing through his system. You raise the camera resting against your chest, leaving your hat to fly where it wants, because you have to capture this.
When your camera focuses, you start snapping with abandon, capturing the sun-drenched metal and heat waves rising off of the pavement. You’re not sure what pictures the editors will select to go with the article the journalist is going to write. Regardless, you’re stealing the time to take some filler shots now, when it’s bright out still, and blindingly golden outside. Your team is far behind you, still clustered by the cars, as you trail between the shining metal hawks, cockpits closed and emblazoned with names and callsigns. Your heart stutters in your chest when you see his jet, the text dark and fresh, announcing he’s been promoted. So, he's still operating out of Naval Air Station North Island.
Faintly, you can hear voices emanating from one of the open hangars, so you creep closer, your old Canon camera clutched to your chest like it can protect you. Twenty-four of the US Navy's best aviators are saturated in gold, settled in creaking plastic chairs. Jake’s at the podium, laser pointer in hand, completely relaxed as he talks about things you couldn’t understand if you tried. The light glints across his face, catching angelically on the burnished strands of his hair. A singular fluffy lock has broken free of his hair gel’s hold, trailing softly across his forehead. It makes your fingers ache to push it back into place. But you can’t, because you won’t interrupt or embarrass him. So you take pictures instead, breathlessly, silently, framing the aviators limned in gold like they’re deities waiting to go to war.
You’re not sure when it happens, but he sees you - bright green eyes colliding with yours, a nearly imperceptible frown creasing his brow before the skin smooths. He doesn’t look happy to see you. In a way, it makes sense. You were just a one-night stand, something sexy to indulge in - not someone he'd want to keep forever. The look lances through you, skewering you in place as the wind and sun stick your blouse to your back. He doesn’t acknowledge you but for one curiously blank look, and you’re mortified as you walk silently back to your crew, who are now grouped around the jets in awe.
As expected, Adam and Lea, your stylists extraordinaire, are already scribbling away. Lea's flicking through the tablet in her hands. If you were a betting woman, you'd bet good money they are already planning outfits to take advantage of the blue, gold and white theme of North Island.
“Hey, Boss!” Amy, your assistant, is nearly bouncing in place with her excitement. You're not sure how she's so energetic despite the heat and the hours of travel. “Our liaison should be joining us soon. They'll give us a tour of the base and then show us where we'll be setting up shop this week.”
She doesn’t notice how frozen your smile feels and how mechanic your nods are. All you can think about is Jake. He must have known, right? What are the chances he didn’t know you were coming to North Island to take more pictures? There must have been some briefing or notice informing the aviators why you're here. After all, you’re here to photograph the Dagger Squadron. Then why was his face so blank when he saw you earlier? Thinking about him is driving you crazy, but you're not sure you can stop. All you want is to know whether he could ever feel as strongly for you as you do for him.
When your liaison walks up ten minutes later, you’re pleasantly surprised to see you have not one liaison, but two. Neither of your Navy appointed liaisons is Jake, something which you should have expected, but you were still hoping for regardless. Lieutenant Commanders Trace and Floyd are smiling from ear-to-ear as they greet your team by name. Lea and Katie seem especially enthused at seeing the soft-spoken bespectacled WSO again. Lieutenant Commander Trace is her same unflappable, cool, collected self. Her presence and dry sense of humor has you in stitches as you and your team follow behind her like a herd of ducklings. There are familiar faces around what seems like every corner of the base. But none of the faces are the face you still want to see so desperately.
Jake Seresin shows up again as you’re oooh-ing and ahh-ing over the big hanger, burnished yellow, orange, red and pink in the light of the sun. You’ve got your camera up to your face, lips pursed in concentration, eyes squinting as you peer myopically through the viewfinder. It's his voice you hear first. Just hearing it, with the same rough timber, makes you remember what he told you, before you fell into his arms and headfirst into this situation with Jake Seresin.
God, baby. You killed me this morning. Wearing that pretty little skirt and those high heels. I wanted to bend you over and fuck you until you were leaking my cum.
It’s not a good sign, is it? How you’re unable to even look at his face without giving yourself away. The evidence of your feelings must be on your face, which feels uncomfortably hot. The heat is completely unrelated to San Diego's sky-high temperature and you shy away from eye-contact when you pivot and face the rest of your team, and the trio of Lieutenant Commanders. The sight of him hits you in your solar plexus, robbing your breath and leaving your palms uncomfortably clammy.
“Hi.”
It’s a quiet greeting, your voice swallowed by the sight of him. It feels like your tongue is two times bigger than it should be in your mouth, unwieldy as you force it to move like you want it to. He doesn’t hear you, or even acknowledge you standing there waiting for him to notice you. Standing there, you finally realize how big a gulf there is between you and Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin.
It's a sharp contrast. He's standing there in his khaki uniform crisp and new, blond hair dark at his temples from the shower he must have taken. In contrast, your shirt is covered in wrinkles, your hair is frizzy with flyaways escaping your braid and your worn jeans are butter soft but have definitely seen better days. He ignores you for the rest of the afternoon. It hurts, of course it does, when he doesn’t notice you in the same way you notice him. But you have a job to do. You can’t - you won’t - jeopardize your career for a man, not even a man as beautiful as he is.
The now-trio of Lieutenant Commanders shows you the Officer’s ready room, where you'll be setting up for the interviews. Each member of your team is also given a badge on a lanyard allowing you limited access to certain areas of base. Soon enough, you're left to survey the ready room and prepare your team for the days ahead.
“I know it's been a long day already for you all.” Your smile is a little wry as you continue, “It's been a long day for me too. All I want is to unwind and get out of these heels!”
You let the scattered chuckles from your team peter out before continuing.
“Before I can do so, we need to sync up on what we're going to be focusing on over the next few days.”
“First and foremost on our list? Getting pictures of the Daggers while they are being interviewed. The interviewer is an old friend of Admiral Kazansky's and will be spotlighting each of the Daggers. As a part of the interview, we will be expected to get photos of each member of the squadron in their flight suits, their khaki uniforms and their dress uniforms.”
You raise your hands up to stall any questions. “I'm aware this isn't exactly the type of photo shoot we're used to. Katie, you’ll be on hand to help with their make-up during the interview. We're keeping it light and subtle. For the interview photos, we want the aviator's uniforms and medals to shine.”
“Seb and Kris - the two of you will be measuring the light levels in this room during various times of day and setting up artificial studio lights as necessary. I'll also need you both to check on the lighting situation in the big hangar we were in with the desks and the United States flag on the wall.”
“Adam and Lea, it may not sound like it yet, but I will need you both on your A-games. By special request of Admiral Mitchell, we've been asked to stage a beach bonfire. He wants this interview to echo the beginnings of this squadron. They became a team on the beach and now they are a family. I'm thinking we need cozy textiles and bright winter-toned colors. I'll leave the color palette to you both. All I ask is we have a cohesive palette for the squadron as a whole. As always, measurements for the aviators are included in this dossier. One of the minivans is yours. Our office in San Diego knows to expect you both.”
It doesn’t surprise you at all when Adam and Lea make a beeline for the doors as soon as you’re done with them. You’ve worked with them both long enough to know how they operate. They’ll be downtown and looking through the clothing on display before you can blink.
“Ames, while I run point with the admirals, you'll be sourcing the beachfront we can use for the bonfire. I'm not sure who you'll need permission from, but there might be a bar owner who can give us permission.”
Before long, it feels like you're the only island of calm in the entirety of base. Seb and Kris wander in and out of the room, measuring the light and carting in and out lighting equipment. Even the teleconference you have with the Admirals, both of whom are in Hawaii, due to fly back in a couple of days, goes smoothly.
Over the next few days, you find yourself building on the rapport you created with 6 of the aviators in the Dagger squad in the following days. You also meet the other half of the Dagger Squad. But at the same time you are building a relationship with the other Daggers, it feels like you're losing the relationship you once had with Jake.
The only time you see him during the four days of interviews and pictures is when he is being interviewed. Even then, he spends more time chatting with Amy and Katie than you. Even when you address him directly, he's silent, content to play puppet to your puppet master and then disappearing to an area off base you don't have access to. It hurts, and you’re starting to get weird looks from the other Daggers. They’re all too polite, or too cognizant of their positions in the Navy to ask you any prying questions. At least, until the bonfire.
It hadn’t been difficult to organize at all, in the end. All Amy needed to do was speak to the proprietress of The Hard Deck, a little bar a few miles off base. Penny had been more than happy to hand over the usage of the beach outside her bar for the night. The combination of good food, even better alcohol, and of course, no interviews relaxed the Daggers enough for you to get the candid shots the magazine was looking for. Halos of light spark across your screen with each snap you take - lens flares sparking to life, again and again.
“Why aren’t you hanging out with Jake?”
The question makes you jump and nearly chuck your lens cap into the bonfire. You fumble awkwardly as you try to collect your composure.
“Lieutenant Commander Trace. What can I do for you?”
Your voice is a little shaky as you wheel around and face her.
“You don’t have to do anything for me!” She’s smiling at your discomfort, something wicked curling her lips. “And anyways, didn’t I tell you to call me Natasha three months ago?”
You’re smiling despite yourself at her antics.
“It’s good to see you again, Natasha.”
“Forget about me. Why aren’t you talking to Jake?”
You should have known she wouldn’t be able to let it go.
“Three months ago, you could barely keep your eyes off of him and the same was true of him. He went out of his way to chat you up every chance he got. And now? Something happened between the two of you after we all left the hangar, and now neither of you is talking. You were fine when you showed us the pictures the next day. But now?”
You shrug, lifting your camera up to snap another couple of pictures of the squadron having fun.
“Oh my god. I can’t with the two of you. Either you walk over there and talk to him, or I’m going to get him to talk to you!”
You grab her arm before she can march away.
“I can’t, Natasha.”
You try grabbing for her, but before you can, she’s already gone. His eyes cut over to yours the more she speaks, and you’re not sure you like the way he’s glancing over at you. Your heart is in your throat as he skirts around the bonfire and sidles up to you.
“What are you doing here? Natasha has this crazy idea you’re heads over heels for me, but the way you’ve been acting says differently. So what are you doing here?”
His voice is so quiet you can barely hear it over the crackling bonfire. His face doesn’t change its expression once the entire time he’s speaking to you, barring one tiny, blink-and-you-miss-it smirk. Once again, you have to thank Adam and Lea for their work because the Lieutenant Commander looks good enough to eat in his sweater and butter-soft jeans. But you know he's not happy to see you. The disappearing act he's been pulling ever since he saw you outside the hangar four days ago is proof.
“You know what I’m doing here, Jake.”
“You're taking photos for another article. I know, I know.”
His smirk deepens, eyes twinkling maddeningly as he prowls closer to you.
“But between you and me, it’s just the official excuse, isn't it?” He tugs at a strand of your hair, reeling you closer to him. “But unofficially, I bet you want more of me. Maybe you want to make yourself another home movie? See my handprint on your ass cheeks again?”
His words have heat rising to your face, never mind how your skin already feels too toasty from how you've been huddling near the bonfire all night to keep yourself warm. Form-fitting dresses are not beachwear, especially not in late November. But you’re dressing to impress, wearing sharp blazers and business frocks. Add to the dress the camera and purse you’ve got over your shoulder, and you’re definitely not equipped for the beach.
“How do you know what I want?”
Your voice is thready and light, and your head spins the closer he gets to you. It's weird. You've been aching to have him this close to you all week, but now, when he is actually close to you again, you feel like it's too much, like he's too much. Every night in your hotel room, you've been coaching yourself to ignore him. You’ve had to in order to compartmentalize and be professional while on base. Yet, after only a few minutes in his presence, all your defenses are shredded like tissue paper.
“Because you're looking at me like this.”
Wafts of fragrant wood smoke drift by you and him as you stand mere inches away from each other. You can’t refute his statement. Not even a little bit, not even at all. You've never been able to mask your emotions, wearing your heart on your sleeve and your feelings in the pursed set of your mouth and the raise of your eyebrows. But you’re still not sure what you can say. If he’d propositioned you with the same vulnerable look in his eyes the first day you were in North Island, when he first saw you again, you would have folded like a cheap lawn chair. Then, you probably would have been more than content to pass on your expensive hotel room and make his lonely base apartment a little warmer. But he didn’t, and you’re not sure you can take the risk anymore.
Jake’s shoulders hunch, sinking into the impossibly soft cashmere of the sweater at your lack of response.
“I…” His smirk flattens, something like his Hangman mask taking its place. His shoulders never drop past his ears the longer you stand there with him at arm’s reach and pretend like you’re having a blast at this beach photoshoot turned bonfire party.
“I’ve read this all wrong, haven’t I?”
His sigh is gusty and almost too loud. “I was waiting for you to say something, because I’ve been dying to see you again. But then you ran away when you were taking pictures of the Top Gun class. Afterward, I - I didn’t know how to say I missed you, which is weird, I know. We only knew each other for a singular night.”
If your jaw isn’t on the floor already, you know it will be soon. Already, you’ve been getting too many questioning glances from your team and the Dagger Squadron. Then there is Natasha’s well-meaning meddling from a few minutes ago. Even the admirals have glanced over every once in a while at you and the normally cocky Lieutenant Commander standing in near silence. It’s not a conscious thought which has you whirling around in the silky sand and snagging a hand into his sleeve. You’re not sure why you’re doing it. All you know is if you’re having this out now, you need to have it out in private where it will not be injurious to your career or his.
Thankfully, Jake doesn't fight you as you pull him towards a corner of the parking lot. Your face feels flushed, and your chest heaves with panic at the thought someone could know what you and Jake did.
“I…”
You cover his mouth with your hand, pretending the feeling of his skin on your hands doesn't burn, like you’re not completely aware of the masculine heat emanating from his skin. For several long moments, you stand in the shadows between two pick-up trucks in the parking lot. Each of your muscles is tense, waiting for someone to realize you've disappeared with Jake Seresin, of all people. You don’t want to think about the possibilities they were assuming. The prickling, uneasy sensation doesn't pass with the moments but does fade a little.
“What was that about, huh?”
You just glare in response.
“I thought it was better to have this conversation where we were less likely to be overheard, is all.”
Your voice is prim, and your nose is tipped upward. It's obvious Jake doesn't feel the same way you do about this conversation, if he’s asking you questions like this.
“C'mon, sugar. If you wanted to let me down, you could have just said it by the bonfire. I promise I won't harass you.” His brow is furrowed as he thinks through all the implications of your statement. “Then or now.”
“I…” You fling your hands upwards, feeling this sudden urge to rage at the stars above you. How have things gotten so twisted? In your head and between you and Jake?
“I don't want to let you down, Jake.”
You growl, then, because you know what you feel, but the words aren't coming out of your mouth the right way. He's patiently waiting for you to figure it out, lips pressed into a thin line, and green eyes scorching through you.
“I’m not rejecting you, Jake. When I came to North Island Naval Base and saw you standing in front of the lectern, I wanted you to smile when you saw me. I wanted some indication you felt the same way I did. I also wanted to kiss you, but it wouldn’t have helped then.”
You're smiling again, just a slight curve to your lips, a smile Jake is mirroring.
“Then you pretended I didn't exist. You pretended I was just someone you worked with before. Not someone who you were intimate with. Not someone whose life you changed with your stupid smile and your piercing eyes and your big, gentle hands. I…”
To your embarrassment, you're sniffling and fighting back tears. “I didn't know why, or how to deal with it, so I just pushed back all my feelings. I pretended the same thing you did, and tried to ignore how much it hurt.”
“Fuck.” The quiet expletive echoes around you. “I messed this up, didn't I?”
He's pacing now, back and forth in front of you, shoes sliding through the gravel as he marches. He's ruffling his hair, face scrunched up in anguish at your words.
“I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. I've watched our video so many times, I know my favorite parts. Fuck, sweetheart, I even took the picture of your ass with my handprints on it with me when we were deployed a month ago. I was nearly given so many demerits because of how hot that picture is.”
Your heart seems like it’s going to burst out of your chest, beating as hard as it is.
“So why didn’t you call?” The same plaintive, sad tone is in your voice again.
“What could I have said?” He’s finally stopped pacing back and forth at least. He flings his hands out from his hips “Sweetheart, I want you, I need you. I wish I could fly to New York right now to taste you again?”
You have to snicker at the sarcastic, sardonic note in his voice.
“It’s a little melodramatic, but I would have taken it.”
Just as quickly as you snicker, the laugh peters away into a gentle sigh. “All you had to do was tell me you missed me, Jake. All I wanted was for you to tell me you wanted to see me again.”
“Would it have mattered if I did?”
He’s stepped closer again, close enough you can feel the heat of his skin against yours. One of his big hands cradles your jaw as he looms over you.
“I asked you a question, pretty girl.” There’s a smirk on his face as he ghosts his lips over yours.
“Why would my answer matter then?” You’re not sure where the sass is coming from, but it’s making Jake smirk even more. “Knowing the decision you made?”
Thankfully, you don’t have to think of a response with a brain wholly occupied by the man drawing you into his arms. You melt into the kiss like it's something visceral you've been missing. His hair still feels the same against the pads of your fingers, golden silk, as you wrap your arms around his neck. He still tastes like you remember, too, cinnamon and smoky spice intermingling on your tongue as he licks into your mouth. Your heart sings when he gently positions your camera so it isn’t crushed between the two of you.
You whimper when he pulls away, chasing after his mouth like you're addicted to it. He still kisses like he flies, you note dimly, thoughts far away. The car at your back is cool, the metal searing into your skin as the sun has long since set. But the cold temperature of the car has nothing on the man crowding you up against it. His eyes are lidded, gaze hot as he takes in the sight of you. The dual temperatures are enough to make you shudder.
“Look at you, darling.” His hands are just as hot as his gaze as he trails his hands down your sides. “A single kiss, and you’re aching for me.”
You can’t deny the effects this man has on you. In truth, the time for denial would have been some time before you made the movie at the hangar. You’re so far down this path there isn’t a way to turn back.
“You want me just as much.”
Your voice is quieter than the rush of the waves, yet loud enough you can see the impact as they hit his ears. He’s still just as fit as he was three months ago, all hard, hot muscle as he presses up against you, cedar and plum wafting through the air off his skin. You can feel the jut of him against your hip as he muscles you even further against the car, spreading you out like a meal he wants to eat. He transfixes you with a glare when he pulls away, even as he smirks at your breathy moan. You watch, eyes lidded, as he opens the truck door and sets your things on the broad seat. You’re panting with need when he comes back to you, body shivering as he leans into you again. His hands find their home against the curve of your waist, fingers still nimble as they focus on tracing your curves in a way which might be driving you just a little mad. You almost wish you were wearing a blouse and skirt again like last time, because at least then you could feel his hands spread across your ribcage, searing their heat into your bones.
You’re lost in him, utterly captivated by the way his tongue tangles with yours, the way he makes you moan. Unlike the rough, claiming kisses of your first sexual encounter with Jake Seresin, these kisses are tender and sweet. They’re searching and tasting, like he’s trying to learn what makes you tick and what makes you moan. In truth, it feels like he’s trying to take you apart only to put you together again. This time, you’re not sure you’ll ever be the same, forever changed by the man in your arms.
“Fuck…” The word is an exhale pressed to your pulse-point, sticky, sweet, and blindingly hot. “Baby, let me take you somewhere other than this dusty, dirty parking lot. I think I really need to see you spread out on my bed this time.”
“Yes, please.” The words leave you in a strung out moan as you tug him closer, fisting your hands in his hair and sweater as you see fit. You’re past caring so long as he’s pressed so perfectly against you.
When he finally steps back from you, you’re gratified to see he looks just as rumpled and debauched as you feel. For a few moments, you stand there, drinking him in, hands aching to draw him close again, to touch him again. He takes your hand, entwining his fingers and yours. His hand dwarfs yours, skin slightly rough as his hand cradles yours. You let him lead you to the truck and help you in, because a part of you isn’t sure you’re going to be able to let him go even when you have to.
It’s silent, but for the sounds of the road as he starts his pickup, one hand never leaving its spot on your thigh. Your hands find the camera again, snapping with abandon the vista blurring past the windows and the man driving you. The streetlights halo through the lens view, speckling the pictures with circles of golden-butter light. It seems like time slips past in a slow trickle. You’re still looking through the camera when the engine cuts off, the sounds of the night trickling slowly back into your ears.
Jake’s eyes sear through you when you carefully gather your camera and bag up, legs shaky from that look alone as you step onto the pavement. His hand finds yours again, as you follow his broad back up a flight of stairs and through an unassuming white paneled front door. You’re surrounded by the cedar and plum of his cologne as you step in, the scent lightly drifting through the air. Jake crowds you against the door as soon as it closes, hands divesting you of your things even as his mouth slants over yours again. The heat sparking between you ignites again, a flame bursting to life in your chest, fed by the soft moans leaving his lips as you kiss him with wild abandon.
For much of the way to his bed, your eyes are closed. You trust Jake to lead you the right way, not to hurt you as you stumble and shudder your way through the apartment in his arms. His lips don’t leave yours once, moans ripping out of your mouth as he leaves you breathless. He’s far from quiet too, softly grunting when you tug on the hair at the nape of his neck, gasping open mouthed into yours as you rub at his bulge. Arousal bubbles in your veins, crashing over and through you. You squeal when he pushes you onto his bed, the mattress so firm it's almost hard as you bounce against it. Your hands shake as you fight with your clothes. Adrenalin makes you clumsy as you nudge your shoes off and fight futilely with the zipper at your back. Eventually you give up, choosing to lean back on your palms. When you look up, Jake’s staring down at you, eyes trailing from the curve of your mostly exposed legs up to your chest and back down again. He’s got his lower lips between his teeth, brow furrowed as he shrugs the sweater off.
Once again, you remind yourself to thank Lea for her work, because if you thought the shirt looked good buttoned up, it looks even better as it slips off his arms. He’s still wearing his dog tags, the silver chain glinting in the moonlight through the windows as he prowls over you.
“You’re still prettier than the pictures you take, baby.”
You feel like you are barely breathing as Jake licks into your mouth. The heat of his body grounds you, the points of contact just enough to tell you this is real.
“Breathe, beautiful.” His hands draw you up until you’re kneeling on the bed, your hands on his shoulders as you peer up into his eyes. Your resulting exhale is shaky as you drag in breaths with just enough oxygen to keep your head from spinning.
“Let’s get you out of this pretty dress, huh?”
“Jake.” His name falls out of your mouth like a prayer. His hands are practiced, sure as they drag the zipper down from the nape of your neck to the base of your spine. The fabric of your dress gapes forward until it’s around your waist.
Jake's eyes seem to glow in the moonlight as he takes in the simple black bra you're wearing, hands tender and hot as they drag over your bare skin, mouth wet and sharp as he drags his teeth across your collar bones.
“Mmm, baby.” His moan has you gasping, your body listing into his as he purrs the words into your skin. “I'm going to make you feel so good.”
When he lets go of you, your nipples are firm peaks in the cool air. When he removed your bra, you're not sure. All you know is you want him, desperately, urgently. Your panties feel like too much material as they cling to you, the gusset damp. Your hands are clumsy as you wrench the dress off, shaking as you peel your panties away from your skin, you flush as Jake's chuckles echo in your ears.
Divested of your clothes, you're faced with one of the prettiest sights of your life. Because, Jake’s standing there, with his belt unbuckled, and the jeans unbuttoned. His cock bulges out through the v-shaped opening, and your mouth waters as you look him over.
“God, Jake, please.” Your voice is a whine as you reach for him, fingers resting against his taut abdomen, back arched as you wait on all fours.
“I’ve got you baby.”
His promises drip over your bare skin like hot and gentle summer rain. Your eyes close as he cups your jaw, the rustle of fabric foretelling his bare skin joining yours on the bed. You let him position you where he wants, drugged by the sensations of his big hands. You steal the opportunity to kiss him again, palms splayed over his pecs, and the cool chain of his dog tags brushing against your fingers. Falling into him is too easy. It’s just a series of kisses, a sweet tangle of tongues as you let him cradle you in his arms. Sparks of need, of want traverse your moon-stained skin, hips canting against his thigh in need.
“How long has it been since you’ve cum, sweetheart?”
There’s amusement in his tone as you wrap your arms around his neck, breasts pillowed against his chest as you nudge his nose with your own.
“Just a couple of days ago.”
His chuckle makes you pout.
“And how did you cum?”
He rolls you over, ghosting a kiss over your lips as he peers down at you. “Was it some guy you brought home? Who didn’t know how to make these pretty moans spill out of your mouth? Did he make you think of me the whole time?”
When you moan, it’s because he’s pressing into you, the stretch of him making your toes curl.
“N-no.” You screw your eyes up, trying to string the words together. “It was just me. With a vibrator, watching our video.”
“Fuck, there’s my good girl. Waiting for your Lieutenant Commander to make you scream, right?”
You’re so far beyond words all you can do is tug him down, fisting your hand in his hair until you can kiss him again. He’s just as eager to pull you in, hitching your legs up until they’re propped over his arms, keeping you spread open as he pistons his hips until you see stars.
“Please, please, please.”
You’re babbling, your orgasm crashing over you with each sharp thrust. Your moans intertwine with Jake’s guttural grunts as his hips stutter at their steady pace. It feels like you’ve been set on fire when you cum, pulsing waves of heat washing over your body. Jake’s shivering as he slumps over you, blanketing your body with his. His hair is sweat-damp as you card your fingers through the fluffy strands.
“Missed you, Jay.”
“Missed you too, sweetheart.” The words are languid and soft, syrupy and sweet.
It feels like you could fall in love with Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin as he gathers you in his arms for what must be the hundredth time tonight to clean you up. Every glimpse of the man you see when he's not putting on his Hangman mask intrigues you more. There's a gentleness to him when he's like this, a secret softness shining past his imposing exterior. You want to know more. You have to know more.
The realization of how little time you have left with Jake eviscerates you. Only two days left. Two days to love this man as much as you can. You can’t tell him how close you are to falling for him. Looking at his apartment, you have a feeling it would just scare him away. His apartment is almost austere, the off-white walls blending into the pale cream carpet on the floor. Everything is bare, with no pictures on the walls and no personality. It’s a trend throughout the entire space, everywhere but the bedroom. There's a cheery quilt at the foot of the bed. It's the only vibrant color in the apartment, the one thing which screams home.
“It's pathetic, isn't it?” You jump at his words, gripping at the footboard of the bed in an effort to keep from falling.
“It's not pathetic, Jay. Just…” You turn, clad in the soft tee he'd pulled over you after the shower. “Just different than I expected.”
“I know what it looks like, sweetheart.” The same sad soft tone is in his voice again. “It looks like I don’t have any roots. Like I’m scared to let people in.”
He slides his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss on your shoulder, his golden hair dripping as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. “Maybe that is the truth.”
Your heart breaks a little at the soft surety in his voice, even as he does his best impression of a koala around you.
“Because like it or not, I’m going to leave one day. I’ll have to leave one day. Another deployment. Another mission. And chances are, I may not be coming home.”
You clutch at him tighter, because right now, you’re not sure you can think about him not being in San Diego the next time you’re here.
“I was okay with my reality.”
When you wrestle your way out of his grip, you’re maybe a little too rough, evidenced by the grimace on his face as you walk away. You’re not sure where you’re going but away has to be enough. You’re not sure you can face him after he’s said something like this. After all, here you are, ready to risk it all in a sultry cross-country romance, ready to give your heart to him, possibly years of your life to him. Then there he is, admitting so callously he might not be coming home one day.
You’re staring unseeingly at the stars when he slides his arms around you again.
“Are you okay, Shutterbug?”
You lean back into him, because he feels perfect against you still.
“Shutterbug is new.” You’re trying to change the subject, because if he’s insistent about it, you’re going to explode.
“Nuh-uh.” His hands turn you around until you’re looking at him again. “Tell me what’s bothering you, pretty girl.”
“You’re so callous about how you’re ready to never come home again! Why would you say that to me, Jake? I’m ready to risk everything for you. A cross-country relationship, half here, half in New York or really, wherever it’s convenient for us to meet. If you’re not willing to do the same, then what is the point of what we just did?”
You’re choking back a sob as you stand in front of him. Your eyes are screwed closed, hands wringing the hem of the t-shirt clothing you.
“Why does it matter that you missed me, and that I missed you?”
“It matters, because, sweetheart, you didn’t let me finish what I was going to say.”
Your arms wrap around his waist easily as he tugs you closer.
“I was going to say, I was okay never coming home before you. You’ve been running around in my head, the center of every thought, the subject of my every dream for three months. You kept me going when we were deployed, too. All I wanted was to come home safe so I could fly out to New York and see you again.”
“Now, at least I know I’ll be welcome when I come by.”
You’re smiling from ear to ear as you kiss the underside of his jaw.
“Yeah, you will be.”
You're still smiling as you walk into the Officer's Ready Room at North Island the next morning. You've got the same swagger you had in your step the first time you and Jake crashed together. Only this time, you have his phone number on your phone and the promise of a romantic dinner for two tonight. You'd be lying if you said you weren't still worried about the long distance relationship, spending half your life in New York and half here. But more than anything, you're ready for the challenge and excited to. At least you know who you're going home to - and, he knows who he is coming home to, as well.
I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.
Summary: y/n is a photographer for the new scream promo and Jack thinks she belongs in front of the camera rather than behind.
"Y/N did you double check the SD card was empty?" My best friend and work partner, Leah, shouted from down the hall. "Yeah it was the first thing i did this morning,"
Leah and I have been working together ever since college where we met during our photography course. We have been inseparable since both landing a job at a highly praised magazine company.
Today is going to be a great day as we have been given the front cover photoshoot with full creative control too. It has been my childhood dream to have even a small picture but another front page? The feeling never gets old.
Leah and I finish packing all of our equipment into the car and we start the drive down to the studios in LA. As it’s kind of a long drive Leah starts our little road-trip with our favourite song. We scream the lyrics and laugh when the people, in the cars that pass us, give us strange looks.
To save our voices from any extreme damage, we put on some less energetic music and go over the plan for the day. “Wait, have you seen the cast for Scream 6?” Leah suddenly asks.
“Yeh like sorta… no not really” I answer scrambling for my phone. “Well we know Jenna from the Wednesday shoot so that’s less worrying right?” I say as I wait for the list to load.
“Oh yeah I forgot you did that! Do you think she will remember you?”
(Scream VI Groupchat POV)
Jenna- how close is everyone to the studio?
Devyn- I’m parked outside
Melissa- the shoot starts in half an hour
Devyn- I LIKE TO BE EARLY OK?!
Jasmine- YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO BRING ME THIS EARLY TOO THO
Liana- wait you guys drove together? You could’ve invited me 🥺
Jasmine- use that emoji again and I will become ghostface
Liana- 🥺sowy🥺
‘Jasmine’ has left the group chat.
Mason- Jenna this is your fault
Jack- What the hell did I just miss?
Jenna- HOW WAS IT MY FAULT?
Mason- YOU ASKED THE QUESTION
Jack- Jenna, Mason is the reason we are running late please don’t kill us.
Jenna- thanks for actually answering jack, mason I’m going to kill you
‘Devyn’ added ‘Jasmine’ to the group.
Devyn- see you guys soon!
(Y/N POV)
“ I doubt she will remember, I didn’t really speak” I answer, as I start to cringe over my previous shoots without Leah. Leah is literally my rock, and she knows this as she looks over to me. “You will be great, I’ll be there if things get too awkward, and you have all your notes on your phone and in your notebook.” I give her a smile as I reach for said notes to calm my nerves.
When we arrive at the studio I already see two of the actors and they wave as we walk past their car. I feel a lot less stressed as I see that everything is clean for us to set up our equipment. Leah and I finish in a record time thanks to my meticulously drawn plan of the placement for lights and tripods.
One of the producers walks in to check if we are ready. He lets us know that two actors are going to be late but it won’t ruin the shoot. As he leaves to alert the cast Leah stands next to me to make sure I don’t run away.
“OMG it is you!” I hear a voice come round the corner. “I thought I recognised your name, guys this is the talent who created all the Wednesday promo!” Jenna exclaims to the group before walking over to hug me.
“It is great to see you again Jenna! And it’s lovely to meet all of you too.” I say to the room. “I’m Y/N, this is Leah and the stylists are in the other room.” I start to explain the plan for the day.
“So any questions?” I ask after I realise I’ve been talking rambling for too long. “Oh last thing, sorry, if at any point you feel uncomfortable or awkward in a pose or something, just let me know and I will sort it as fast as I can.” I let the cast go to their stylists, who they knew from set, and walk towards my camera and laptop to make sure everything is loaded up and ready to go.
“She did remember you.” Leah said in a hushed giggle as my face starts to go red.
(Jack’s POV)
We are late. Mason is late. So I’m late. I hate being late to these things. Especially when it’s people I’ve never worked with before, although I think I remember Jenna saying she’s met one of the photographers before but that doesn’t calm me down one bit.
“Hey man, chill out” Mason interrupts my internal panic. “They won’t mind, you can charm them with your good looks yeh?” He suggests. I widen my eyes to show I don’t agree. “Fine, I’ll apologise in my own way and you do it how you want too.” He sighs, jokingly.
When we finally arrive we are pushed into the changing rooms so fast that I don’t get to apologize for our lack of punctuality. I quickly change into my costume before jumping into the makeup chair, next to Mason. Once the artist has finished I text my mum to tell her I made it and left it on the vanity. I headed out to the studio once Mason was done too.
"Look who decided to show up!"
Part Two will be their meeting! Or should I say meet-cute?
Also (shameless plug) I really want to be a photographer so I would mean a lot if you followed/checked out my Instagram:
@/no.stress_jess
Please do not repost this, reblogs are appreciated.
Since you wrote for Studio Ghibli : Can I request Kiki (Kiki’s delivery service) X Photography Enthusiast! Male reader ? About reader’s age : 13-years old. Just like Kiki’s age in the movie ?
A Perfect Picture
(Kiki x Photographer male reader)
You couldn't get it at first, sure Tombo was a dork but he never talked this much over some girl. It wasn't until you saw her, her delicate figure soaring across the auburn skies with the setting sun bathing her in a warm glow, did you finally see why your friend had such a sudden interest in the little witch.
Every time you saw her gliding oh so elegantly along the painted skies, only one word filled your thoughts: beautiful. Your hands itched for your camera, to capture the enchanting sight. The town hadn't had a witch for as long as you could remember so having the opportunity to see one made you feel so lucky. Seeing her was always the highlight of your day.
But one day you stopped seeing her in the skies... It had been a couple of days and you were getting worried. Tombo said she just got sick, but she couldn't possibly be sick for this long.
Today your older sister Ursula was coming to town to supposedly visit a friend. Mom urged you to tag along saying, "You never hang out with your sister anymore, go spend some quality time with her, she's family!". So now here you were, dragged along to go pick up her "friend"
"C'mon (Y/N), pick up the pace you bum! I want to go see my friend!"
You only groaned in response, mumbling with annoyance, "Since when did you even have friends"
You froze as you both came to a stop at a very familiar bakery.
"Hey Kiki!"
Your muscles stiffened and your face turned a rosy pink as you watched your older sister talk animatedly with her friend, who just so happened to be your crush! Your sister turned back giving you a knowing smirk once she saw your blushing face.
"Hey Kiki this is my little brother (Y/N), he'll be joining us today!"
When she turned to face you it's like the world stopped as she gazed at you with her onyx eyes. Oh god her eyes... words couldn't even begin to explain the beauty and the life in her eyes. Your heart beat loudly in your ears as you fell deeper and deeper into her mesmerizing obsidian eyes.
"Um hello? Are you ok?"
Her sweet honeyed voice snapped you out of your trance, red hot embarrassment burned your skin.
"U-uh yeah I'm (Y/N)!"
Then she laughed, soft and warm like being cradled and hugged as if you were something precious.
"I know that, your sister already introduced you to me silly! I'm Kiki!"
"Nice to meet you Kiki..."
"Well let's go inside. don't want you both waiting for me out here in the heat!"
Being in your crush's room was sending your already overwhelmed heart into overdrive. You barely even talked to her but you couldn't help it, you were invited by her and now she was telling you about her troubles! your sister too but that's not the point.
This was officially the best day ever, your crush was actually talking to you, laughing at your jokes, and even playing around with you. You were glad she was feeling a lot better, although you'd never admit it out loud, your sister did have an amazing way with words and could make anyone feel better.
Spending all day and night with Kiki and Ursula made you itch for your camera. Seeing them laugh and play and cook and talk made an incredible sight. Seeing their souls dance and shine like little embers becoming ablaze with life. Oh what you'd give to capture these moments and preserve them like precious gems.
But all good things must come to an end. The next morning Kiki hugged both you and your sister goodbye and went on her way. You felt sad that is was over but you were glad to at least have spent a whole day with her.
"(Y/N) COME OUTSIDE AND BRING YOUR CAMERA, THE DIRIGIBLE IS FLYING AWAY AND TOMBO IS HANGING OFF THE ROPE!"
Hearing your friends' cries you practically flew out the house, camera in hand. Running through the streets, worry filled your heart, you could only pray that Tombo was alright. Arriving to the scene, Kiki's figure attracted your attention like a magnet. She looked so majestic, despite her not-so-majestic flying, bravely trying to save the shaking Tombo. Everyone held their breath as they watched the desperate rescue attempt. Then...
He fell
She dived down
You raised your camera
Click
Cheers erupted all around you as people rushed to the two children. You stayed back, forgotten, staring down at your camera. There on your camera was the picture perfect scene, Kiki hanging onto her broom with one hand and holding onto Tombo with the other. Their hands seemed to fit so perfectly, like something out of a fairytale... Oh how you wished it was you she was smiling down at, her hand holding onto yours with a quiet desperation...
You glanced up at her once, your eyes meeting.
Then you left.
Kiki's POV
She couldn't understand it, she just met you yesterday but it felt like she has known you for years. That day at the cabin with you and your sister made her feel alive again. You and your stupid jokes brought her back to life... Now meeting your gaze, her heart ached seeing you so dejected, your camera falling from your hands to hang limply from its strap.
She remembered the photos your sister showed her when you were sleeping. The photos you took were so full of life and soul, as if you captured the subject's very essence into one small photograph. The scenes they portrayed always felt so real, like she could feel every emotion behind it.
Now watching you run with one last picture that she just knew held heartbreak and longing, she couldn't let this end like this. The cheers and praise turned to background noise as she ran, only one thing filling her thoughts, you.
"(Y/N) WAIT!"
You stumbled to a stop, turning around in disbelief only to see Kiki racing towards you.
"K-Kiki..?"
She looked up at you, those deep dark eyes that you've come to adore, staring deep into your (e/c) eyes. Then she spoke, her words soft and shy,
"I flew again just like you and your sister said I could... do you- do you want to come celebrate with me..?"
A pleasant warmth spread in your chest as you looked at her, with her blushing oh so cutely, and you responded with the obvious and only answer,
"Of course."
Divider credits: redroud1 lalunanne
Author's Note: Again sorry this took so long to answer! I hope I did ok, I was a little nervous writing for a male reader since I myself am a woman but I hope Y'all enjoyed it! This was really fun to write, I love Studio Ghibli and it was a nice break from writing all of the yandere stuff lol. yanderes are fun to write and all but sometimes it's nice to have a little fluffy writing in the middle. Like always Thank y'all for reading and I hope you have a lovely day/night!
Sorry for the wait, I’ve been caught up in a lot of Stuff including mental health! But I hope you enjoy!
Take a picture, it’ll last longer…
“Man this is beautiful! It would of made a great shot for my album.” You whined as you sat in a large flowery feild. Mountain’s sprawling across the far off landscape. It was beautiful. Sango who had accompanied you on today’s traveling, turned her head and gave you a puzzled look.
“Shot for your album ?” She questioned. Suddenly it clicked in your head the idea of cameras and photo albums was a foreign concept to her.
“Yeah, a shot meaning a photograph from a camera,” you explained trying to find the right words. “A camera is like… a little metal box that essentially captures an image perfectly and can be used to create something similar to a very accurate painting. A photo album is a book where you put those images.” She nodded.
“I see, that sounds lovely!” She smiled softly at you. You looked at her, examining her appearance. Her sleek dark brown, almost black hair. She was still in her demon slaying outfit. The fabric complimented her figure, but primarily her muscles. She was beautiful, you wished you could of taken a photo of her in this field of flowers. You bit your lip trying to think of how to voice your thoughts.
“I-I wish I would of brought my camera. You look rather lovely Sango, I mean it.” Her eyes briefly widened taken aback, her face flushed. A small smile gracing her lips as she chuckled.
“Thank you, Y/N.” She said, her voice softer than usual. You sighed sweetly.
“This world has so much beauty in it, but none as radiant as you.” You teased, the same smile playing at your lips. “But we don’t just take pictures of things we find beautiful on the outside, usually people take pictures of what means the most to them.” You looked her in the eyes, with a genuine expression of adoration on your face.
You wanted her to know, to know how much you cared for her. Not just for her looks, but for her strength, persistence among other things that inspired you. Your hands found a way to hers, carefully you placed one on-top of her slightly smaller and scarred ones.
“You mean so much to me Y/N.” And with that you both sat in comfortable silence, a warmth floating about. You both knew what one another meant, and that was enough.
