#desperate plea for guidance

[aspiring-house-husband]

“forgive me, father, for i have sinned…”

I relish in breaking priests. 

“I have been lustful.”

contrary to popular belief, a demon has no difficulty stepping foot in church. surrounding myself with all of that holiness, it only heightens my hunger. i keep my face looking human and my clothes modest and i remember what i’m here for. a priest… you, the gorgeous and beautiful priest with a body to make me drool. a body that deserves so much more than to be locked behind the church. 

“tell me more, child.”

you’re young, for a priest. young and pretty and lovely. i want nothing more than to have you as mine, but i have been patient. i have visited you in the past, devout and mournful of my sin. supposedly. 

“I have pictured you, father. in my nights alone, i have pictured you on my bed, devoid of clothes. i have imagined your supple flesh quivering with pleasure from my touch.”

you do not respond but with a sharp intake of breath. my lips reveal sharp teeth as i smile, a scent of shock and arousal slipping through the slatted holes separating us. 

“i have imagined your soft thighs opening for me as you plea for my touch. you beg vulgar things of me, father. you beg for me to touch you and breach you and spear you onto me.”

“i- i see.”

“i have seen it in my dreams, father. you ask me to break you open on my cock and keep going even if you cry. you beg me to take you, body and soul. to make your hole and so your entire body feel as though holy, bewitched by god’s light.”

“interesting…” you sound breathless. you smell desperate. 

“you promise me that you will save me from my sin, and that you can only do so by letting me release it within you, as you, holy father, can handle it. that you will cleanse me with your touch and your hole.”

“they say…” you say, and it comes out as a whimper. “they say that dreams are sent by god.”

“as guidance, father?” 

“indeed. That god offers us answers and communicates with us through our dreams, should we only listen.”

“how must i repent, father?”

you try to hide it, but i hear the soft thump as you rest your temple against the wall between us. so too can i hear your thighs rubbing together for the slightest relief, and your hand making way of your clothes to reach your own heat. 

“if god has so graciously shown us his path, we must take it,” you answer, and i can hear your robes shuffling as you dig your hand down further between your legs. “but you must finish confession, first.”

“only after you beg of me, in my dreams, do i take you viciously,” i answer, listening to the sweet sounds of your wetness as you shove fingers as deep into yourself as you can reach. “i satisfy you with my cock and you cry out at how it feels. i thrust into you with enough force to bounce your voice and force you to cum around me and again until you shed tears of ecstasy, father, and told me that i was cleansed with the holy light of god’s love within your body.” your breathing and the scent of your arousal both spike as you near your own orgasm, every word of mine and every thrust of your fingers bringing it closer until you tremble and shake through it. i see the shadow of you leaning back into your seat as you listen. “and i felt the euphoria, father, of the holy light that i spilled into you. i was cured of my sin, father. surely my lust was balanced by my connection to the spirit.”

“in the dream, it was,” you answer, breathless and smiling, “but you have not repented from your waking lust. i shall save you, as such i did in your dream.”

“i’m so glad,” i say, my teeth sharp and claws sharp as i tear aside the wood between us, revealing to you my muscular frame, my slitted eyes, my wicked horns, my predatory smile. “for I shall make my dream real.”

it takes me only a moment to lift you from your seat and strip you, demonic magic only helping in pulling your robes from your body, before i spear you deep onto my cock, your hole loose and wet with orgasm. 

“cleanse me, father,” i growl, forked tongue circling your ear before my lips latch to your neck, working your blood to the surface. “free me of this sin and i shall worship you as i worship our lord.” 

you grip onto my shoulder with one hand and my horn with another, locking your ankles behind me, dropping your head back and moaning like the best succubi i’ve seen. your hips buck lewdly and your hole grips around me with the tightness and heat of hell itself. your spend drips from you and joins my precum, smearing both your thighs and mine before painting the floor. 

i cushion your head from slamming into the wood, feeling it as your so-called holiness slips from you. i drink it up from your veins as it escapes my demonic power, which i pour into you with every kiss and caress and thrust, which you accept with every cant of your hips, every tight grip onto my body, every moan to be heard throughout the cathedral. 

you flutter and clench and ripple around me with your second orgasm, body going taught and earthquaking in my arms. i can’t help but sink my teeth into your perfectly pleasured frame, my magic following my fangs and pouring ever further into your body. it has you trembling even more, whimpering in prolonged pleasure the likes of which you’ve never experienced, shaking and tensing and ignorant to how your holy light shatters and focuses into tying you to hell, where a tempting sinner belongs. 

i can only withstand so much of your perfect sloppy hole before i cum into you, spilling into you with unholy light and darkness. i watch the glow of it fill you, and watch as your orgasm drags ever on, even to where your eyes roll back in your skull and you go limp in my arms, still trembling through the pleasure in your sleep. 

this means that, lovingly, i can watch as my glowing demonic magic reshapes within you, to a binding mark so beautifully painted between your hipbones. i watch it climb your veins to your hairline, where it spouts nubby horns from your perfect hair. finally, it bleeds down to your face, and when you open your eyes, they resemble a snake’s. 

“you are cleansed,” i whisper, reverently, kissing you softly. “an angel all for me.” 

“angel,” you breathe in response, tremoring still around my cock within you. “an angel you are, sent to rescue me.”

“to raise you to the unholy light you deserve. to rapture you to your higher purpose.” i kiss you as i speak, all over your chest and neck, with worship and adoration on my lips. 

“higher purpose,” you simper, clenching yourself around me again. “take me to this higher purpose. show it to me. fill me with it.”

“as you wish, my angel,” i tell you, invading your mouth with long tongue and loving kiss, and fucking you anew. 

#og #story #monster #transformation #demon #religion kink #corruption #public #well this was… something

[starlightkun]

❧ word count: 17.4k ❧ warnings: cursing ❧ genre: fluff, some mild angst, model jeno, journalist reader, reader is lowkey a bit of a jerk for some of it but for understandable reasons ❧ extra info: this is a reworked version of an old fic of mine that was about a former member. since i still really love the fic, i’ve made some (heavy) edits to re-release it about jeno instead. you can consider this the spiritual successor/an alternate universe to my sleepless cinderella series

You’d finally gone insane, you’d decided. Absolutely bonkers, completely crazy. After all, how else would you explain the fact that you were now kissing Jeno?

You felt absolutely pathetic. You were a journalist at a rather popular magazine, and your editor had finally entrusted you with a centerfold spot. So far, your word document for your article had less than a handful of words: your name. Writer’s block, and with only two months until copies were supposed to hit the shelves.

And so here you were, sitting on the small couch in your boss’ office, trying not to sound like you were whining to her. But you needed some sort of guidance. Ms. Zhang was sat on the other end of the couch from you, legs crossed, and round frames perched on the end of her nose as she thoughtfully listened to your rant.

Her voice was casual as she simply replied with, “Anything new in your life, Y/N?”

Which was a complete non-sequitur from your desperate plea for a subject. She really just wanted to make small talk while you were having an existential crisis?

Stunned, you blinked for a moment before answering, “Uh, not much. My roommate made me go out to this party a while ago.”

“That’s nice. Did you have fun?”

You were still completely unsure of why she wasn’t addressing your issue, but went along with it, nonetheless, “I guess.”

“Meet anyone?”

“Kind of. Seven someones, technically.”

“Oh?”

Realizing how that sounded, you grimaced to yourself before giving your boss an explanation of the actual situation. Your roommate NingNing had dragged you to the grand opening of a new nightclub, which she got an invite to thanks to her huge social media following. She was possibly the only actually down-to-Earth influencer you’d ever met—and you’d met plenty, thanks to her. The two of you had been friends since you were kids, before you entered into completely different lives as adults. You had a 9 to 5 while she was being paid insane amounts of money by luxury brands just to post a single photo of herself with their product.

The nightclub of course had a VIP section at the back, which NingNing was easily given access to, as well as you, her plus-one. It was there that you were introduced to Mark Lee, an up and coming young actor with a practically cult following online; Huang Renjun, an extremely popular video game streamer and YouTuber; Lee Jeno, an actual supermodel whose visage was across some of the biggest billboards in the city; Haechan, a pop star that you didn’t dare address by anything other than his stage name; Na Jaemin, another streamer and YouTuber who had recently been picked up for a modeling contract; Zhong Chenle, heir to the Zhong family fortune, whose family was involved in anything and everything to do with the entertainment industry and owned the nightclub; and Park Jisung, an influencer more in the same vein as NingNing, with millions of Instagram followers. Apparently, you had made a good enough impression that Chenle gave you your own pass to the VIP lounge—NingNing of course had her own, too.

At the end of your story, Ms. Zhang had a worryingly knowing smile across her lips, “You met seven celebrities in one night?”

“Do influencers and streamers really count as celebrities?”

“You met seven very popular men—three or four of whom are certifiable celebrities—in one night, have access to a private lounge they all frequent, and you still don’t have a subject for your article?”

Your jaw may have dropped slightly as you realized this. Immediately, your face turned hot as you refused the idea, “I don’t want to exploit them and make them uncomfortable somewhere that’s supposed to be free from that kind of stuff.”

She frowned as she shook her head, “I’m disappointed in you, Y/N. I thought you understood that journalism isn’t inherently exploitative.”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not—”

“Are you going to publish horrible rumors and tabloid things with private information they don’t want to be out there? Is that what we do here?”

“No, but they’re all going to think that’s what I’ll do.”

“Show them those assumptions are wrong. It’s all in the way you carry yourself. If you are honest and humble and make them feel comfortable, they should have no reason to doubt what kind of journalist you are.”

At this point, you felt like melting into the pinstriped couch cushions in shame. You shouldn’t have doubted your boss’ vision for her magazine or demeaned your own career. And now you’d made Ms. Zhang disappointed in you. You would’ve preferred her to have yelled at you.

All that was left was to make her proud.

Three days later and you still hadn’t returned to the lounge.

Honestly, you were just being a chicken. And a procrastinator. A procrastinating chicken.

Slumped into your armchair in your living room, you blankly zoned off into the distance as you listened to your playlist through an earbud. NingNing was perched on your kitchen table, feet swinging off the side as she edited some photos on her phone.

As she tapped away, you found your gaze fixating on the visage on the cover of a magazine that had been resting on your coffee table. Squinting your eyes curiously and tilting your head to the side, you asked, “He kind of looks like a dog, right?”

“Who?” Your roommate raised a concerned eyebrow as she peered over her phone screen at you.

“Lee Jeno.” You held up the magazine. “He kind of looks like a dog. Right?”

Your friend squinted at the cover then gave you that same look, “No, he doesn’t. Y/N, I think the sleep deprivation has finally gotten to you. You’re delirious.”

“No, I swear, he looks like a dog,” you insisted, pulling your earbud out to be able to better argue your point. “A very specific kind of dog, God, it’s on the tip of my tongue.”

“He doesn’t.”

You crossed your arms. “I bet the others would agree with me.”

“You want to go ask them?” She challenged. “Jisung texted me saying they were all going to be there again tonight.”

“If that’s what’ll convince you.”

“I have been begging you to go back for weeks, and now you’ve agreed to go back to ask them if they agree that Jeno looks like a dog?” NingNing scoffed incredulously.

“Yeah.”

“Alright, fine, you weirdo. Be ready to leave at midnight.”

When you arrived at the club, you immediately felt out of place again. You clung onto NingNing’s arm tightly as she confidently led the way through the crowd to the VIP lounge. She flashed a smile and her VIP pass to the bouncer outside the room, who nodded and stepped aside. As soon as the two of you entered the small room that consisted of one large rounded booth, you immediately regretted your decision. When NingNing said that everyone would be there, your brain hadn’t pieced together that ‘everyone’ included Lee Jeno, who perked up with interest as the two of you walked in.

Jeno eyed you curiously, an eyebrow raised, “So you came back.”

“Y/N has something really important to ask you guys,” NingNing announced, gesturing to you pointedly.

You felt like a deer in the headlights as all of them turned to look at you. Swallowing thickly, you avoided looking at Jeno as you tried to think of anything else to say.

“Sit down, let’s get you a drink first,” Jaemin kindly saved you, gesturing to the open space at the end of the booth seat.

NingNing sat down next to Mark, who had previously been at the end, and you scooted in after her. The circular table unfortunately made it so that you were looking directly at Jeno, who you couldn’t help but sneak glances at as your brain still stubbornly tried to remember what breed of dog he reminded you of. Another round was brought out for everyone, and you gratefully started sipping on yours.

It was when he smiled up at the waiter as he was handed his drink that it finally hit you. You had to bite down on your lip not to cry out in victory.

Chenle looked at you over his sunglasses—yes he was wearing sunglasses indoors at night, as he had been last time. He asked, “So what is this really important thing you have to ask us?”

You looked at NingNing desperately, but she just gave you a deliberate nod.

“Come on, Y/N, it’ll be fine.”

With a gulp, you gathered your courage to just fucking say it and get it over with. You still wanted to be right. “Okay, think about it really hard before you answer.”

They all nodded in assent, anticipating your question.

Taking a deep breath, you finally asked, “Doesn’t Jeno kind of look like a Samoyed?”

A couple of them seemed concerned for your mental state. The rest pondered your question whole-heartedly, brows furrowed as they studied the model. Jeno had a look of pure bewilderment on his face.

Finally, Haechan gasped, “Oh my God you’re right.”

“Thank you!” You sighed victoriously, looking over at NingNing smugly.

Jisung fervently searched something on his phone, eyes widening in shock, “Now that you’ve said that I can’t unsee it.”

“What? Let me see.” Chenle yanked the phone out of Jisung’s hand, holding a picture of a fluffy white Samoyed up to Jeno’s face.

The model tilted his head to the side in confusion, perfectly mimicking the picture on-screen. Chenle burst into loud, cackling laughter.

“Shit, he-he does!” Renjun declared between his own laughs.

Murmurs of agreement erupted around the table, and you were now fully vindicated. “Thank you! Thank you! NingNing didn’t agree with me so I had to come and—”

“No, I did,” she snickered. “It was just the only way to get you to come back. You’re a whole different person when you think you’re right.”

You tried to glare at her, but you were much too ecstatic at being proven right to really be all that mad.

Jeno looked about to open his mouth as Chenle giggled incessantly and started swiping through more search results of Samoyed pictures. A horrible sense of dread covered you like scalding candle wax. It was hot against your skin, thick, and you felt like you couldn’t move or breathe. You prayed to every deity you could think of that Jeno had a really good sense of humor and wouldn’t take offense to someone he had met twice saying he looked like a dog.

When Jeno’s gaze finally focused on you, you swore you had never wished to turn invisible more in your life than in that moment. Or make time stop. Or wake up and realize it was a dream. Anything to get you out of this situation. But you were absolutely petrified, all excitement from before completely eradicated from your being.

Then suddenly all tension was gone from the air as his eyes crinkled into crescents and his mouth parted wide to let out hearty guffaws.

You looked around in alarm, waiting for the hidden camera to be revealed or something. This couldn’t be real.

He managed to contain his laughter enough to choke out between chuckles, “That’s— that's really, really funny.”

Your wide eyes were focused incredulously on him as he caught his breath. Still with a grin on his face, he continued, “Oh my god, seriously that was fucking funny. I’m a cute Samoyed, right, Y/N?”

Utterly speechless. That’s what you were. And also staring at him, completely dumbfounded.

“I think you broke her, Jeno,” Renjun snickered, reaching a fist out as if he were about to knock on your forehead like a front door.

Instinctually, you smacked his hand away from your head, a scowl overtaking your features, “I’m fine, Renjun.”

“Then why can’t you look him in the eye?”

You pointed to yourself, “Normal person—” then to Jeno, “supermodel. I’m still not used to that.”

But Renjun was right, you couldn’t look Jeno in the eye, and your whole body was practically on fire. Honestly, how were you supposed to react to this situation? With grace and comfort? No way.

“What? Seriously?” Jeno scoffed, standing up from the booth to pointedly sit on your side of it. Directly next to you.

“I’m not that— Y/N, really? You’re actually scooting away from me?”

You hadn’t even realized that you’d shifted the opposite direction from him, pressed into NingNing’s side. Meanwhile, the others were all finding this spectacle absolutely hilarious, sharing annoying snickers and giggles.

Your face was burning, and despite your satisfaction at being vindicated, you were now regretting coming to the club at all.

“Can you guys stop? You don’t have to be so annoying,” Jeno scolded his friends, much to both yours and their surprise.

Haechan had a look of mild offense and disbelief across his face, “Being annoying comes as natural to us as being ridiculously attractive comes to you.”

“Speak for yourself!” Jaemin slapped Haechan’s arm as Chenle was practically howling with laughter.

While they were distracted among themselves, Jeno’s attention was focused back on you. If you could look him in the eye, you’d be able to appreciate the genuine concern held within them. But you couldn’t, so all you could do was hear the genuine concern in his voice as he said quietly, “Sorry about them.”

“You don’t need to apologize for them,” you reassured him, messing with your fingernails.

“Anyway, I can’t stand having you be terrified of me.”

“I’ll get over it,” you cleared the audible squeak out of your throat, “eventually.”

“Eventually...” Jeno didn’t seem satisfied with that qualifier you added at the end. “Are you busy today?”

“Uhm— I don’t know. Why?”

“We should hang out.”

“What?”

“The more you’re around me, the less scary I’m going to be to you. Right?”

“I guess.”

“Then we should start right now.”

Your throat nearly closed up at this suggestion. Especially because you realized that the room was dead silent. The others had ceased their squabbling and side conversations and were awaiting your response to this too.

So you did the thing that came most naturally to you: procrastinated the issue.

“Oh, well, it’s already after midnight—”

“Then tomorrow.”

“I’m going to be super busy for a while, I just got a really big assignment at work—”

“What do you do for work?”

“I’m a journalist. Just got centerfold and it’s going to make or break my whole career so it’s going to take up all of my time for the foreseeable future, so...”

Jeno was unfazed, “What’s the topic?”

“I-uh it’s...” you couldn’t even bullshit an answer at this point, your stupid tongue tripping over itself. “I don’t have one yet.”

NingNing just had to offer up her opinion right then, “Do it on Jeno!”

If you were a lesser person, you'd have strangled NingNing in that moment, because the model’s features lit up. He clearly liked this idea.

“Yeah! I would love to. If it’ll fit your guidelines or whatever, of course.”

You sighed, “It does...”

The socially anxious part of you absolutely hated this idea. But, the journalist part of you knew it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Gritting your teeth, you managed to look Lee Jeno dead in the eye and say, “I would love to interview you, Jeno. Thank you.”

“Uhm, Jeno?” Jisung speaking up stopped the wide grin that was spreading across his friend’s face. “Aren’t you like, banned from interviews or something?”

“Technically,” Jeno answered dismissively, not breaking eye contact with you.

“Technically?” You echoed in confusion. Were you just being messed with?

“Something… happened with the last in-depth interview I did a while ago,” he admitted sheepishly. “But! I’ll talk to my manager and get it cleared, I promise, Y/N!”

[jeno: manager han gave the okay for the interview! when can we get started?]

Your stomach contorted itself at the message that just popped up on your phone screen. Last night you’d left the lounge with a growing sense of dread and anxiety. And Jeno’s phone number.

[jeno: i have a fitting this afternoon but i'll be done in time to get dinner]

[jeno: if that works for you, of course]

[jeno: we can always start it another day, whatever is good for you!]

[jeno: do you want me to send you my schedule for the next few weeks to make it easier for us to get together?]

Your phone’s continuous buzzing with enthusiastic and sincerely kind messages from him caught the attention of NingNing, whose feet were currently resting on your lap as you shared your couch together.

“When did you get so popular?” She questioned teasingly, peering at you over her own phone screen.

“It's just one person,” you informed her.

“Who texts you that much in a row other than me?”

“Lee Jeno, apparently.”

“Y/N, you seem very unenthusiastic about this,” she declared with a thoughtful frown, completely abandoning her phone. “Isn’t this a really big break for you?”

“I’m still a little shocked,” you admitted. “And scared.”

She shoved you with her foot. “Well at least text him back.”

“Right.”

Not a great idea to leave him on read.

[you: a copy of your schedule would be great]

[you: and yes, i can do dinner tonight]

It was less than a minute later that he replied.

[jeno: here’s my schedule]

[jeno: attached image]

[jeno: and could you give me your address so i can drive you to dinner tonight? the place i have in mind is kind of hard to find if you haven’t been before]

A lot was happening right now. Too much for you to process. Good thing there was another brain in this room to help you process it.

“Hey, NingNIng?” You got her attention before thrusting your phone screen towards her so she could read the texts.

“Uh, three options here.” She pointed to a new finger for each one as she listed them off: “He’s ridiculously excited about this interview; he likes you; or he’s going to kill you.”

“So far the last one seems most likely.”

With a shake of your head, you sent him your address.

Your fingers anxiously tapped along your bouncing knee as you waited on your couch for the text from Jeno that he was here. He told you that the restaurant was just casual, but you weren’t sure that a model’s idea of casual wear was the same as yours.

Jeez, what were you doing? Getting dinner with and interviewing one of the most well-known models in the country? You were so out of your depth here.

A buzz came from your other hand that was tightly gripping your phone. An incoming call from Jeno. Maybe he was calling to cancel, and you could just keep rescheduling until you both gave up on the whole idea and you never showed your face in that VIP lounge again.

Answering it, your voice squeaked as you attempted to give him a casual, “Hello.”

“Hey, Y/N!” The bright voice of Lee Jeno came through your speakers. “I’m just parking now, I’ll be up in a couple minutes.”

“You don’t have to come up!” You told him a little too forcefully and quickly. Having Lee Jeno in your apartment would just be too much.

“I don’t mind—”

You leapt up from your couch and rushed towards your door, “Too late, I’m already on my way down.”

With a sharp hit of your thumb, you hung up. Pressing the down button on the elevator impatiently, you prayed that Jeno would just give up and wait in his car.

He didn’t.

The elevator doors opened to the lobby, with Jeno right outside them. In fact, you nearly slammed right into his chest, but thankfully he took a step back before you could actually collide.

His ‘woah!’ was muffled slightly by the dark face mask over his mouth, accompanying dark baseball somewhat successfully obscuring his identity. As long as you didn’t look too closely, he could be any other guy.

“I told you I’d just come down on my own.” You shook your head at him, eyes trained on your shoes.

“And I told you that I’d come up and get you,” he shot back smugly. “Seems like neither of us listen very well.”

With no response coming from you, Jeno took your silence as the cue to lead the way out to his car. It was nice, nicer than most cars you’d seen around, but surprisingly not that ostentatious. It looked like something a moderately successful businessman would drive, not an A-list model.

Inside was a comfortable leather interior, and you took quick, short notes on the small notepad you kept with you as you looked around. After all, this was an interview, and you had an article to write. You could get over your own social awkwardness and feelings of inferiority for the sake of your future career.

Hopefully.

The restaurant Jeno had chosen was definitely out-of-the way.

It was down one back alley into another, through the back of an electronics shop, up a flight of stairs, then through a room of old ladies sat at sewing machines. They all gave a friendly chorus of hellos to the two of you, seeming to know Jeno pretty well as they all told him that he’d grown since the last time he’d come by. He bowed to them bashfully as he led you through. Past the curtains on the far wall, you finally ended up at the restaurant.

Okay, out-of-the-way was an understatement.

But despite the hard-to-stumble-upon location of the restaurant, it seemed busy. The small room was tightly packed with tables that you could barely see through the mass of people seated around them and plates of food resting atop them. A loud buzz of various conversations mixed in with the bumping of plates and clattering of utensils.

Just past the entrance was a small host’s stand where a young boy stood. He looked to not be out of high school yet, presumably a young relative of the owners: their son, nephew, or grandson.

He also knew Jeno, bowing to him, “Ah, Mr. Lee. We have your reservation for you. Come.”

Jeno bowed back and looked to make sure that you were still following the two of them through the nearly claustrophobic environment.

You were, eyes drinking in every detail as your hand furiously scribbled them down on your notepad, muscle memory functioning at full speed to write every letter without looking away from the scene around you. There was one more curtain for you to go through, and it was much quieter on the other side. This was most likely a VIP section of sorts, with just a couple tables separated by a divider.

The host gestured to one of the two tables, and you gratefully sat down across from Jeno. He then took his hat and mask off, fingers working through his hair for a moment to rid it of the hat’s aftereffects.

“Thank you, Yeonwoo,” he thanked the host, which you repeated as well.

The boy, who you now knew to be named Yeonwoo, bowed politely to the both of you before scurrying off.

“You must come here often,” you commented, hand poised to write his response.

“My family and I came here a lot when I was younger. Since I started my career it’s been difficult to eat here as often as I did before. Especially because their food isn’t technically allowed in my diet,” he had a mischievous glint in his eye as then he added, “But you won’t tell on me, right?”

“Of course not, unless writing an article about you that will be published in a magazine counts as tattling,” you snorted, much to his delight.

He laughed, “Right, right. That’s pretty much the ultimate form of tattling, huh?”

“If it gets published, yeah. If not, then the only people who will know will be you, me, and my editor. And I suppose Yeonwoo and our server, as well.”

“Speaking of our server, there she is!” Jeno announced, making the young girl who was approaching your table blush behind her notepad. She was probably around Yeonwoo’s age, maybe a little older.

“Good evening,” she greeted the two of you politely. “My name is Jieun, I’ll be your server tonight. Are you ready to order?”

You were a bit confused by her question, you hadn’t been given any menus yet. But Jeno seemed completely unfazed.

“Two orders of my regular, please,” he requested sweetly, which she quickly scribbled down on her pad.

“Of course, it’ll be out soon,” she informed you before hurrying away.

He turned back to you, “Jieun is Yeonwoo’s older cousin, their grandparents own the restaurant.”

You added this to your notes as well. It could be nice to add in to set the scene and show how down-to-Earth Jeno was, knowing this family as well as his own and not forgetting his roots even as a big model. Or something like that, you’d figure it out eventually.

“So, interview questions?” He prompted you, bringing you out of your contemplative planning ahead. You’d write that up later.

“Earlier you had mentioned your family, tell me a bit about them. Brothers, sisters?”

Could you have looked that information up online and found it? Definitely, but you wanted it from the source, to see if he would provide you with anything that wasn’t already out there. And you wanted to get a feel of your subject.

“Well there’s my parents, my older sister, and me. They’re not famous or anything. My parents own a grocery store nearby, and my sister’s a teacher.”

“You took my next question right out of my mouth,” you clicked your tongue in teasing disappointment, continuing on with a different one. “You said you used to come here often with your family, what are some other things you miss from your childhood that you don’t do as often?”

Jeno’s face easily betrayed his delighted surprise, “Oh, I wasn’t expecting that one.”

“Hm?”

“That’s a good question. Normally I get asked about celebrity crushes or my ideal type.”

You tilted your head to the side curiously, “If you thought that I was just going to ask you the same questions you usually get asked, why did you offer for me to interview you?”

“Never mind, never mind, sorry.” He coughed awkwardly, then quickly went to get off that topic, “Uh, it might sound kind of weird, but I used to help out at my parents’ store a lot as a kid. It was my first job I ever had. As soon as I could reach the register on a high stool, they put me to work. It’s actually how I got scouted, for modeling. My manager now just happened to come through my line while I was on the register and gave me his card. I thought it was a scam, honestly. But Jaemin made me give him a call, and he turned out to be legit. Even if I had the time to help at the store now, I’d just be too much of a distraction if I tried. And trust me, I tried. Once. So yeah, I miss helping out there.”

The desire for an answer to your other question was still there, but it was a path that you didn’t want to go down right now. Right now was time for the interview. So you simply scratched down his statement about his parents’ shop, then shorthanded off to the side ‘why me?’ as you readied your next question.

“You knew Jaemin before you guys were famous?”

“Yeah, we’ve been friends forever.” A fond smile crossed Jeno’s face. “Seatmates since primary school. He blew up with streaming first before I got my break as a model, actually. Most people usually assume it’s the other way around.”

“And what about the others?”

As Jeno eagerly answered your questions and you filled up page after page on your notepad, there was still that one lingering in the back of your mind.

Why you?

Over the course of a couple weeks, you’d spent a considerable amount of time with Jeno. According to his schedule that he had sent you, every free moment he got was taken up by your interview. Sometimes it would be more formal, like your first dinner meeting, and sometimes it was more casual, get-togethers in the lounge with the other VIP members or a riverside walk that felt more like two friends talking than a professional interview. And it all went in your notes, it would all go in your article. This was going to be a great article. The real Lee Jeno when he’s relaxed, what he’s like off the runway.

Today was very special, however, as you’d been invited to tag along to one of his photoshoots. You were just outside the building housed at the address you’d been given when you were met by a young man whose stern gaze never left you. It seemed as if he had been waiting for you.

“Are you the journalist?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, completely skipping any greetings.

“Ah yes, Y/L/N Y/N,” you confirmed, nodding your head respectfully to him as you held out your VIP lounge card as proof. Jeno told you that would be your pass to get in.

The man only scrutinized the card for a moment before he pivoted on his heel, “Follow me.”

You kept his hurried pace easily, ready to ask him questions as well, “So what’s your job here?”

He took a moment to push open a door that then nearly closed on you before answering, “I’m Lee Jeno’s PA.”

“Oh, Song Eunseok!” The name easily came to your mind.

The PA’s eyes widened in surprise, “Jeno’s brought me up?”

“Of course he has! You’re with him pretty much all the time, how could he not mention you?” You flipped through your notebook to where you’d taken previous notes about him, “Here, I asked him to walk me through his typical day, and he mentioned ‘Seokkie’ like seven times.”

Eunseok physically grimaced at this, “I’ve requested that he not call me that.”

“Why? I think it’s a cute nickname.”

“Really?” His eyes were now trained on his shoes as opposed to his previous laser focus on the end of the hallway. Your eyes could’ve been playing tricks on you, but you swore the tips of his ears were tinged pink, too.

There was another door, and this time you definitely couldn’t miss the fact that he held it open for you this time.

“Really,” you echoed.

The door had led to what you could really only imagine to be the set. Huge lightboxes, a couple cameras, and a multitude of people all set up with a single black sheet as the focal point. A white loveseat contrasted it starkly, but that wasn’t where your eyes were drawn. They were drawn to the man seated elegantly atop it, dressed head-to-toe like the playboy prince of a small but filthy rich country. Lee Jeno.

“You can wait for him over here with me,” Eunseok tapped your elbow with a feather-light touch, snapping you from your near-trance.

“Thanks.” You walked with him towards a table lined with various food and drink.

Your focus was still on the PA as he got a bottle of water, opened it, took a lemon slice from a small bowl and squeezed it into the drink before plopping a blue straw in as well. Then didn’t drink it. Instead, he turned back to you and held it in his hand patiently.

“The straw disturbs the makeup as little as possible,” Eunseok explained to you, and it was then that you realized it wasn’t for him, it was for Jeno. “Makes the makeup artists’ lives a little bit easier.”

“That’s very considerate. I wouldn’t have even thought of that,” you commented, taking note of that process as your focus returned back to Jeno and the photoshoot.

Knowing that your next question might be considered disrespectful, you leaned closer to Eunseok to whisper, “So who’s the photographer?”

He understood your delicacy, replying back equally quiet, “Chen Man, she’s brilliant. Jeno’s worked with her in the past, but this is his first solo shoot with her. It’s for the new YSL campaign that he was chosen to be the face of.”

And you were rocketed back to the fact that Lee Jeno was a famous model. Obviously, you hadn’t really forgotten it, but in your casual meetings and interviewing outside of his work, the magnitude of it was lessened. But a PA, giant photoshoot, famous photographer, and being selected as the new face of a campaign for a huge designer really hammered in the famous model part.

“Wow.”

It was just then that Chen Man called for a short break, and the silent studio was immediately filled with chatter. Jeno made a beeline for you and Eunseok, his normal contagious grin across his face, “Hey, Y/N! I’m glad you made it here okay.”

Up close, you could appreciate the detail and regality of his outfit. It was made of crushed velvet of a deep cerulean color; various intricate medals flashing on his chest; dark epaulettes making his already broad shoulders even more imposing; large black boots; and silver jewelry and chains glinting on his fingers and neck.

Eunseok offered the water out to Jeno then, and he accepted it gratefully, “Thanks, Eunseok.”

You continued from the model’s earlier statement, “Yeah, Eunseok made sure I got to the right place.”

“Good, I sent him out there to get you.” He turned on his PA, “You didn’t give Y/N a hard time, did you?”

“My job is to make sure none of your insane fans somehow get in here,” the other man scoffed.

“So you did give her a hard time.”

Eunseok rolled his eyes at Jeno’s teasing words. Despite knowing that they were employer-employee, it felt much more like two friends to you. You added that to your notes.

Jeno took a couple big sips of his water, and you took this time to ask him a couple of questions.

“So Eunseok was saying that this shoot is for the new YSL campaign that you’re the face of. Have you ever done something like this before?”

He blinked at you a couple times before actually replying, “Yeah, it’s really an honor and a big opportunity to be chosen for this. I’ve done solo shoots before, but not ones of this magnitude.”

Another figure approached your small group, a makeup artist. Jeno handed his water back to Eunseok before leading the way a little further away to sit in a chair. As the makeup artist attended to his makeup, you continued with the interview.

“How familiar are you with the photographer on this shoot?”

“I’ve worked with Chen Man a few times before—” he paused to let the makeup artist apply his lip color again. After she was done, he continued, “Her ideas are incredible and she’s honestly so wonderful to work with. However, all those other times I was with other models, so doing a solo photoshoot with her is a bit nerve-wracking. She’s the kind of person that you really want to make proud, you know?”

Thinking of Ms. Zhang and her disappointment in you earlier, you nodded, “Yeah, I know.”

There was a call for everyone to start getting back into their places, and you took this as your cue to leave Jeno alone. He had work to do.

The makeup artist did one touch up on his face before letting him up out of the chair, another person coming to his side to fix his hair up just the way they wanted it, walking alongside him awkwardly to do so.

“Take a bunch of notes on your little notepad, Y/N!” Jeno quipped as he walked back in front of the camera.

“Will do!” You affirmed, holding your notebook above your head and shaking it slightly so he could see it.

Returning to your previous spot off to the side with Eunseok, you had a fond smile on your lips from your short interaction with Jeno. Eunseok had a little smirk of his own as he gazed at you.

“And what’s that smile for?” You questioned, head tilted.

“Nothing.”

You elbowed him with a short giggle, “Come on, tell me.”

“No,” he shook his head, that same smile on his lips.

Even as you rolled your eyes, your focus never faltered from Eunseok. You changed tactics, a slight pout on your face as you asked again, “Please, Seokkie?”

Finally, he relented, “You’re pretty special, Y/N.”

“What?” You questioned in pleasant surprise.

“For Manager Han to have approved this interview after what happened last time, Jeno probably begged.”

“I can't imagine what would be so special about me.”

Eunseok had a brightness to his features that you hadn’t seen yet as he replied, “I can.”

You raised an eyebrow, “And what is it?”

Shouts from the set took both your attentions away from each other. Chen Man had been calling directions out during the whole shoot, but never with such aggression as then.

“Jeno! Lee Jeno!”

You scanned the scene in front of you as you tried to figure out what exactly was happening. Jeno’s arms were crossed across his chest, a startlingly stern but calm gaze focused on… you?

“Jeno can you—ugh, fifteen-minute break, everybody!” She yelled out in exasperation, the rest of the crew breaking the silence, scattering from the set.

Chen Man continued addressing her model, “Jeno, your expressions… they’re off.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll work on them.”

Despite acknowledging her words, you were doubtful of if he had actually registered them, stalking off the set with seemingly one destination in mind.

“Y/N,” Jeno stopped right by you and Eunseok. “Can I speak with you for a second?”

“Of course,” you nodded, well aware of how the crew was only pretending to be busy, instead actually focused on the three of you.

Your subject took off again, and you guessed that he anticipated that you’d follow him. Which you did. Eunseok stayed behind.

His longer legs made it a little hard to keep up with him as he took twists and turns down hallways of the building.

“Jeno,” you breathed out, seeming to finally snap him out of whatever mood he had been in.

Immediately, he slowed down to your pace, a faint smile coming to his lips, “Sorry, long legs.”

“Where are we going?”

He abruptly stopped, “Here is fine.”

It was the middle of some random hallway. He apparently didn’t have an actual destination in mind, more-so a distance.

“So what do you need to talk to me about?” You questioned, pencil and notepad at the ready. It had to be something for the interview, it couldn’t possibly be anything else.

“Y/N…” Jeno reached his hands out to cover yours, gently lowering the pencil and notepad for you. His hands were big and warm on yours, and you felt nerves flare up at his clear insinuation that this wasn’t for the interview.

“Jeno…” you said back with a nervous half-giggle. He was still holding your hands.

“This isn’t part of the interview. I’m not interviewee Jeno, and you’re not interviewer Y/N right now.”

“Okay…”

As soon as you had accepted these terms, he released his feather-light hold on your hands and took his own back to wring them nervously. What could Lee Jeno possibly be nervous about?

“Hm, I’ve never done this before,” he chuckled, pressing a palm to the center of his chest.

“Done what?”

“Okay, I’m just going to be upfront. Uh, I think you’re super great, and pretty, and awesome and I’d really like to be able to take you out on a date some time.”

This had to be a fucking joke. No way that someone who looks like him, an actual model, someone who gets paid for being ridiculously attractive, could actually be asking you out. This had to be a sick, terrible, horrible joke he was playing on you.

And yet as his big brown eyes gazed at you, wide and hopeful, looking a lot like a puppy waiting to be adopted from some animal shelter, you knew that he was being genuine.

And you panicked.

Stuttering for a moment, you finally choked out the most formal and emotionally removed response you could’ve come up with, “I’m sorry, I—that wouldn’t be appropriate, since I’m interviewing you right now. A bias or conflict of interest would damage the integrity of my piece as well as my career.”

Surprisingly, his features didn’t seem as crestfallen as you anticipated, his expressions were always so easy to read. He, in fact, seemed very happy with your reply.

“I get it,” he beamed at you, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze for a moment before letting it go. “After the article, then.”

That wasn’t what you meant. At all. But between your own burning cheeks and internal state of panic, you couldn’t express this to him. Or even really process your own thoughts right then.

“We should head back, Eunseok will come looking for us soon,” Jeno nodded with his head back in the general direction that you two had come from.

He kept a polite distance from you, allowing some of the panic alarms blaring in your mind to quiet just a bit. You tried to brainstorm ways you could possibly keep this interview going forever. Ways to give you as much time as possible. To do what, exactly? Maybe come up with an actual way of rejecting him. Or maybe give him enough time to change his romantic focus to someone else, so that he would never end up revisiting this subject after the interview.

You could dream.

“Oh my god!” NingNing exclaimed. “Are you shitting me?!”

You’d just recalled your day to your roommate, finally ending at the part where Jeno had asked you on a date. She had literally done a spit-take back into her soda as she smacked your leg in excitement.

Despite still being in disbelief yourself, Jeno had been extremely up-front and clear about it. No room for misinterpretation. Unlike your response to him.

“Well when’s the date?” NingNing squealed, pressing for more information.

“I said no,” you deadpanned.

“What?”

“Well, kind of.”

At the clear grimace on your face, your friend sighed, “Y/N, what did you tell him? Verbatim.”

“I told him that it would be inappropriate right now because a bias or conflict of interest would ruin the integrity of my piece and any career opportunity that came out of it,” you repeated your statement from earlier almost word-for-word, sure that it would be burned into your memory for the rest of your life.

“You do know that he now definitely thinks that you were telling him to just wait until after the article is over, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of,” you groaned, dropping your head into your hands and rubbing your face in exasperation.

“You don’t want to go on a date with Jeno?”

“I don’t want to date Lee Jeno,” you confirmed, nodding the head that you were still holding.

“Let me just review the situation here: you’ve got a very sweet, very funny, very hot guy that’s into you. What’s the problem?”

“He’s hot.”

Finally, you’d found it. The real reason you’d said no, the real reason you had a deep pit of dread in your stomach as soon as the words had left Jeno’s mouth hours earlier.

She snorted, “That’s a problem?”

“His entire career is based off being hot, he’s a model,” you explained rather desperately, relieved to finally be able to put your tumultuous thoughts into proper words. “I can’t deal with all that shit that comes with it. I just can’t.”

“So you’ll never want to date him? You’re not going to change your mind?”

“No, never. I couldn’t.”

“Never say never,” NingNing taunted with a sing-song voice, but at your eye-roll, became more serious. “Okay, let’s just say you’ll never date Jeno in your life—despite the fact that nothing is ever definite—you shouldn’t lead him on. Intentional or otherwise. Don’t let him spend the next few weeks thinking that you two are going to date after the article’s over.”

The anxiety was still there, however. “What if he doesn’t actually think that and I just misunderstood him? What if he just naturally gets over me in the next few weeks and doesn’t need me to confront him about this and straight-up reject him? He’s probably never been rejected in his life, what if he doesn’t take it well? What—”

She cut your endless strings of ‘what if’s short, “Y/N, didn’t he say that he’d never done this before?”

Realization hit you straight to the gut. “What if me rejecting him makes him never want to ask anybody else out again for the rest of his life and I scar him permanently?”

Your roommate had a clear look of ‘yikes’ on her face, and pure mortification ran through every inch of you.

“Never mind, there’s no way I could ever have such an impact on Lee Jeno’s life, that’s fucking ridiculous. I’m just some normal person, some journalist, and he’s literally a supermodel. No way this would actually matter to someone like that.”

“Y/N, don’t say stuff like that,” NingNing frowned, pulling some hair away from your face gently. “You matter to me, remember? You’re my best friend.”

Completely ignoring her, you continued, “I just have to be upfront with him, tell him I don’t want to go on a date with him, and be done with it. He’ll probably never think about it again for the rest of his life.”

She let out a sigh as if she were going to say something but thought better of it. You didn’t press her; your mind had been made up.

You couldn’t do it.

The next time you saw Jeno, you had every intention of being upfront. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You were an absolute coward. Some part of you didn’t want to tell him, for whatever reason.

Maybe because the way his face absolutely lit up when he saw you was something you’d never seen anybody do for you before. Maybe because he asked you how your day was and didn’t look disinterested in your answer. Maybe because no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself that this was a professional interview, he made you feel so at ease that you somehow talked more about yourself than him.

Maybe because you did kind of want to date him.

Your notebook had been completely abandoned about fifteen minutes into your ‘lunch meeting,’ a fact that went mostly unnoticed by you. Until the waiter came with the bill and you had to move it out of the way for him to set it on the tabletop. You’d written just a couple short notes, nothing substantial. That wasn’t an interview, you couldn’t even try to bullshit it to yourself. That was a date-but-not-a-date. And you enjoyed yourself.

As you contemplated over your mostly-blank page, Jeno had already tucked his own card into the pouch and waved the waiter back over. Before you could argue him paying for you, the waiter was halfway across the restaurant.

“Jeno, I can pay for my own food,” you reminded him gently, feeling very much like you were scolding an over-excited puppy that had accidentally knocked over a potted plant in its haste to greet you.

“And I can pay for both of ours,” he countered.

You held his gaze firmly, waiting for him to— there it was.

His mouth split into a sheepish grin as he held up his hands in surrender, “Alright, I get it, I get it. Interview time right now. We’ll split the check for now.”

For now.

Maybe you liked the idea of that.

“Except this one, since they already ran my card,” Jeno added, a victorious smirk on his face, one that had you shaking your head fondly.

“Can I at least tip?”

“Already added that on the receipt.”

“How dare you be so thoughtful and respectful.”

He seemed about ready to quip something back when a distant chorus of squeals cut him off. You took a cursory glance around, eyes landing on a group of teenage girls standing just outside the window that you were seated by. They weren’t uncomfortably close, but it was clear what had made them so excited.

Jeno ducked his head shyly as he raised a hand to acknowledge them, only setting their nervous titters off again. Maybe he should have left his mask and hat on, or not chosen a table by the window.

And your heart dropped as you were once again reminded of who exactly the man in front of you was. Not just some cute guy named Lee Jeno, but a model who was known internationally, with fans who would recognize him out and about, with a career and life that was under the public gaze constantly.

You couldn’t do that. You couldn’t subject yourself to that. It would be too much for you.

With the girls still watching the two of you, you collected your notepad and stood up, stiffly bowing to him. “Thank you for allowing me to interview you, Mr. Lee.”

Thankfully, he took your lead, standing and returning your bow, “Of course, thank you as well, Ms. Y/L/N.”

Hopefully the girls got the message that this was business and nothing else. A dating rumor with Lee Jeno was absolutely the one thing you did not need in your life. Lee Jeno was absolutely the one thing you did not need in your life.

The light hum that had been in Ms. Zhang’s throat through most of her reading of your article suddenly changed tone as she came to the ending. Her brow furrowed thoughtfully, and your mind was running wild with nerves as you waited for her to speak.

“It’s good, Y/N,” she started.

You sensed a ‘but’ coming next.

“But… in the very first paragraph you introduce him as model by day, and explorer by night, or something to that effect.”

“Yes, that’s how he and his friends introduced him.”

“But you never bring up his ‘exploring’ again. This is about his life as a model and what he’s like outside of modelling here. You hooked me on the exploring part, but left me ultimately unsatisfied with that point.”

She was right. She was absolutely right. In your own personal whirlwind of confusion about your emotions and wants, you’d left a loose end in your article.

Ms. Zhang continued, her tone rising, “But…”

Oh, another ‘but.’

“This might just be perfect for a sequel. We publish this and advertise it as a two-part look into him, the first part his model by day, and the second part all about him as an explorer.”

You were caught off-guard, “You want to publish it?”

You had honestly expected her to throw it in the trash and fire you. You’d been so all over the place the entire time you’d been working on the article, you didn’t think it was anywhere close to your best work.

“Of course, this is the most hard-hitting and real piece that’s ever been done about the man! Most of it is tabloid nonsense. Not to mention that this is the first interview he’s done in over a year, it’s fresh content. It’s perfect, Y/N.”

Ms. Zhang just called your article perfect. You were on Cloud Nine, barely listening as she continued.

“Do you think you’ll be able to get a second interview with him? Maybe even tag along on one of his exploring trips or something, like how you went to one of his photoshoots in this one?”

That snapped you back into reality. Going on a trip with Jeno? That sounded dicey. But… also a chance to extend the interview, prolong the inevitable: his expectation that you’ll start dating after the interview. Your worst fear.

Avoiding an uncomfortable scenario and making your career out of it? It was an opportunity you couldn’t pass up.

“Of course, Ms. Zhang.”

Right as you walked into the VIP lounge, you were met with the expectant face of Jeno. You’d agreed to meet him there on your lunch break, right after your morning meeting with Ms. Zhang, to let him know if she was going to move forward with publishing your article or not. It felt a bit weird being at a nightclub in the middle of the day in your work clothes, but it was one of the more private places to meet with him.

“So?” He asked hopefully. “How’d it go?”

“She’s going to publish it,” you breathed out, still in shock yourself.

Two strong arms were suddenly around you, pulling you into a warm chest that was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Oh my god!” Jeno hugged you tightly. “Congrats, Y/N! I’m so proud of you!”

You hugged him back for a moment, enjoying it more than you should have considering you swore up and down that you weren’t going to let yourself date him. Then you remembered the other half of the conversation, your arms going limp.

“And she wants a second part.”

“That’s great!” He exclaimed, then after another moment, it seemed to have dawned on him. “Oh wait.”

And he let go of you, a particular chill coming to your body as he took a step back from you, declaring, “Professionalism. No bias or conflict of interest.”

You felt bad. You felt so bad. And yet you nodded, “Yeah, it’s still going to have to be like that.”

Maybe forever, if you could swing it just right.

“So… a second part about what, exactly? The article was super great, but I’m not sure how I could be interesting enough for a sequel.”

“Your ‘exploring,’” you explained. “I had mentioned it, but never returned to the topic or expanded on it, so she wants this whole second part to be about your trips and you know… all that stuff. Whatever you get up to when you’re not a model, and when you’re not a regular dude here.”

A rather cheeky grin spread across his face at this, and you didn’t want to know why he was so excited about you not dating, because you had a feeling it would be something awful close to it.

“Well then, what better way to get to know Explorer Jeno than coming with me on my trip to a tropical island next week?”

You were taken aback by both the invite but also by the event itself. After all, Jeno had given you his entire schedule for the past two months, which included next week. And you didn’t remember a trip being anywhere on there.

“Since when have you been going to a tropical island next week?” You asked incredulously.

“Since now.”

You sighed, rubbing your face. “Jeno, you can’t drop everything in your life just to do this. I can wait until whenever your next actual scheduled break is for whatever trip you make then.”

“Yeah, but I can’t wait,” he insisted, a near pout across his features. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, half-mumbling to himself, “I’m calling my manager right now. He owes me vacation days anyway, I’ll just take them early. Make my three-week backpacking trip in Europe next year fifteen days instead. I can’t wait.”

That went straight to your heart, and you felt your chest hurt from the implications of that. He couldn’t wait until he could date you. With every passing moment you felt like a more and more terrible human being. Which you were, you absolutely were just a horrible human being for doing this to him. After all, like you’d said, you were never going to date Lee Jeno.

Right?

One week later and you were in your third airport of the trip, your second layover as you waited for your connecting flight. You’d been in interviewer mode since Jeno had picked you up to head to the first airport that morning. Asking questions, writing answers, asking more questions. There was no room for anything but business on this trip. This article would be the follow-up to your first piece that your boss thought was perfect. So this had to be more perfect than perfect. You wanted to make her proud.

Jeno, surprisingly, was being rather professional too. Other than the slight touch here, an odd phrase there that couldn’t exactly be classified as professional. A brush of your hands as he tried to get your attention, off-handed comment about how cute you were when you were focused taking notes. You’d only remind him that this was a professional article, hoping that he couldn’t see the bashful smile on your lips.

Or even now, he returned from what was supposed to be a quick bathroom break with waters and snacks for the both of you.

“How much do I owe you?” You asked as you accepted the food and drink.

“Nothing.”

You frowned.

“Come on, Y/N,” he sighed in exasperation, cracking open his own water bottle. “I know we’re serious professional interviewing here, but two people doing business together can still be friendly and do nice gestures for each other.”

He was right. He was absolutely right. You were being a jerk for no reason. Well, not for no reason. There was a small voice in your head that hoped that maybe if you pushed him away enough now he would change his mind about wanting to date you, that he’d think you were actually a jerk. And that little voice was apparently wrong. And also a piece of shit. Jeno didn’t deserve that.

“Right, sorry,” you shook your grumpy face off, offering him a smile instead. “Thanks, Jeno.”

He pulled down his face mask to be able to drink the water, and that combined with his inconspicuous baseball cap brought back the idea that he was a famous celebrity who had to cover up his appearance when he went out to avoid being detected. Even in some random foreign country you didn’t know the name of on a layover. If you did actually start dating him, would he have to wear those on your dates? Any time you wanted to spend time together in public? Would you have to start wearing them?

Those were ridiculous thoughts, especially because you were never going to date Lee Jeno.

Right?

On the plane, you halted the interview to allow the two of you to both take naps, already feeling the toll of the heavy travelling you’d done today. And you’d be doing even more soon, as this flight wouldn’t even take you to the island directly, you had to take a ferry from a different island’s airport out to the actual island that was your destination. Then a car ride of some sort from the harbor to wherever you were staying. And based off the clothes Jeno had requested you bring, you’d be getting very in touch with nature on this trip, another exhausting idea.

All for an interview. All for a way to avoid the inevitable.

As you snoozed, not quite asleep yet, you felt Jeno slowly shift in his sleep, his head lolling to the side until it finally found a resting place on your shoulder. Even in his sleep this man completely disregarded professionalism.

But you were too tired to complain, soon falling asleep yourself, with your own head rolling until it finally found a resting place on his.

“So what exactly happened at your last interview that was so bad you were banned from them?”

Your questions continued as soon as you’d left the airport on the island, only halting when you were caught off-guard by Jeno’s choice of transportation: a cream yellow moped. Which you were now on the back of, clinging onto your bag for dear life. Thank God you had packed light like he suggested.

“It’s kind of a long story,” he replied loudly over the wind. “I’ll tell you when we get to the hotel, okay?”

“Fine.”

“We’ve got some tighter turns coming up, you might want to hold on to something actually attached to the moped.”

He didn’t say it, but you knew what he meant. Wrapping your arms around his torso, you then held onto him for dear life as he whipped around the turns. How he could possibly make a moped feel dangerous was truly incredible to you.

“Yeah, that—” he stumbled over a voice crack. “That’s good. Much more secure.”

“This question shouldn’t be a long story: Have you ever driven one of these things before?”

The hotel was small and homey, with so few rooms that the two of you would be sharing one. Jeno had already informed you of that beforehand, having asked for the okay from you, that sharing the room wouldn’t be too unprofessional. While it definitely was, there were no other rooms available, so you were stuck between a rock and a hard place. When he informed you that there were two beds, you finally agreed.

Except it wasn’t two beds, as you found out when you walked in. It was a bed and a pull-out couch. And he’d already claimed the pull-out couch for himself.

“Jeno,” you sighed again as you watched him set his stuff down on the less comfortable option. “This isn’t two beds.”

He shrugged, “We have separate places to sleep, that’s what you were worried about, right?”

Your patience was wearing thin. It was almost annoying how sweet he was. Well, it wasn’t really him being sweet that annoyed you. It was the sneaky ways he liked to do it.

“Jeno…” you repeated his name, trailing off as you waited for him acknowledge you.

He was still messing around with setting up the pull-out couch.

“Jeno, look at me.”

At your request, he immediately did so, the attentiveness catching you off-guard for a moment. But you were determined.

“I don’t like being lied to or tricked. Even if it’s something nice, you know? It’s sweet, but I like to make my own decisions about things. Even things that may seem little to you, like splitting the bill at restaurants, or whether you’re coming up to get me or I’m going down to meet you, or you dropping all your plans to go on some spur-of-the-moment trip, or who’s taking the couch and who’s taking the bed. I’d like a say in the matter, okay?”

He gulped, seeming to really be taking his time to mull over what you were saying. And you did, too. It was another reason that you could never date him. He was a celebrity, he was used to being able to do whatever, to not having to worry about the kinds of things normal people like you had to worry about. The implications of that terrified you. You couldn’t do it.

Finally, he said, “Okay, yeah. I understand. I never really saw it like that, I’m sorry. I should’ve been more thoughtful of how it was making you feel. I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

Shit, this dude was way too fucking sweet.

You nodded, mumbling some kind of response to the genuine apology he’d given you.

Clearly as eager to change the topic as you, Jeno spoke up, “So, what was it that you’d asked me on the moped earlier?”

And you were more than happy to revisit that, snatching up your notebook from your bag and sitting on the bed, “What happened at your last interview that caused you to be banned from them?”

“Oh, right,” he physically grimaced at this, rubbing his face with his hands for a moment. “It’s a long story, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’ve got plenty of paper.”

Jeno let out a sigh, sitting on the pull-out couch. “No, Y/N. I can tell you, but you can’t write it down, you can’t publish it. I’m sorry to have to ask you this, because I know how dedicated you are to the integrity of your work but… if you’re going to publish it, I can’t tell you. I’m sorry. The others don’t even know the whole story. Jaemin doesn’t know.”

His words struck you differently, hearing the genuine defeat and distress in his voice. With a twinging heart, you tucked your notepad and pencil back into your bag. For someone who had been preaching about professionalism and keeping the integrity of your article, you were really so ready to throw it out for him as soon as he asked, weren’t you?

“I won’t write it down, I won’t tell a soul,” you reassured him, wanting nothing more than to sit down next to him and hold his hand and tell him that everything was okay. But you still clung onto some little semblance of professionalism here. For some fucking reason, when it was getting clearer by the minute that all your resistance would be futile.

Just a glimmer of a smile was across his lips for a moment at your actions before it was taken over by the same pensive face as before, and he started the story.

“It was… oh probably over a year ago now. I was still kind of new to the modelling industry, but it felt like everyone’s eyes were on me. My company toted me around as their rising star and every second I wasn’t at a gig, I was being interviewed by someone. It was a lot, but it was freaking awesome.”

The brightness in his features that had been there as he recalled the earlier days of his career suddenly turned dark at his next words. “Until this one interview. It was for a smaller magazine, and my manager didn’t even know why I wanted to do the interview. But it was a magazine that my mom liked to read, and I wanted her to be able to see her son in it. So I sat down with the interviewer, and it felt like it was going like all my other interviews had gone. And maybe because I wanted to really make a good impression on her, so the article my mom read would be as positive as possible, I accidentally led her on or something like that.”

You tilted your head curiously at this last statement. If it had come from any other hot guy, you might have doubted his actual intentions, but it was Jeno. You knew that he wasn’t only physically attractive but had such a way of being naturally charming and making people feel at ease that it was impossible not to be drawn in by his attractive personality. He didn’t do it on purpose, he was just a genuinely nice guy.

“But afterwards, she asked for my number. I said no. I let her down as easy as I could, and she took it with grace. Or I had thought so until Manager Han and the CEO of my company—who I had never met until this—sat me down in his office and showed me a naked picture of some guy and asked if it was me. You couldn’t see his face, and his build was similar to mine, so I could see how they were doubtful. It wasn’t me, but that didn’t matter. The interviewer had sent those pictures to my company saying that if they didn’t pay her a bunch of money, she would post them online saying they were of me.”

Your eyes widened almost comically at this. You couldn’t believe that someone could actually think of doing something like that, especially to Jeno.

“Now, the company doesn’t take very well to people trying to extort them or threaten their people, so she was taken care of.” After a pause, his eyes shot open comically wide as he shook his head fervently, “Legally, in the legal system, it’s not like my company like killed her or anything, I phrased that very badly.”

A quiet laugh came from your mouth at his backpedaling.

“Anyway, they decided that after that, it would be best for me to not do interviews for a while. I don’t really know what happened to her after the court case, but to my knowledge, she hasn’t bothered us. And I haven’t had an interview since. Until you.”

“Until me,” you echoed, mind reeling from this story.

This interview really meant more to Jeno than you had realized before. You’d incorrectly and selfishly assumed that he was so invested in it just because he liked you. But it was more than that. His last interview had been a disaster, the interviewer threatened to humiliate him publicly, and betrayed him. He had taken a chance on you to be different than that, taken a chance to make you his first interview back after the shit the last one had put him through. You were sure that he was feeling the pressure from his company to make it the best possible return to them ever. And he had entrusted it all with you.

You weren’t sure of how long you’d been sitting in silence for, but it started suffocating you, so you finally choked out, “I’m sorry she did that to you. She’s… a bitch.”

Jeno chuckled, “I guess. I kind of just feel bad for her.”

“I don’t,” you snorted, feeling your blood starting to boil as you thought about it even more. “She tried to ruin your career and reputation because she got rejected. It’s not your fault, Jeno. You didn’t do anything to deserve that. She’s just a bitch.”

While he didn’t outright agree with you, the faint smile on his features was still apparent as he went to stand up, forcing some pep into his tone. “Okay, time for some island exploring. After all, you’re here for Explorer Jeno, right?”

“Right!”

Right?

Being on the island was refreshing. Not only because you’d never been on a trip to a place quite like it before, but just everything felt absolutely perfect. It was the perfect temperature outside, the warm sun being balanced out by a cool breeze that blew through your hair, the water surrounding you was the perfect clear blue, the flora the perfect rich green, and the man with you was… perfect.

You’d given up on trying to keep your fond thoughts of Jeno at bay. He was wonderful, that was undeniable. And as you went around the island together, his baseball cap and face mask left behind in the hotel room, the notion of his fame slipped from your mind. Sure, you were still writing down your observations, small adventures, and pertinent questions you asked him. But you weren’t interviewing Famous Supermodel Jeno right now, you were interviewing Explorer Jeno. And he was someone you could let yourself fall for, even for just a few days on this little island.

After your third day on the island as you signed onto the hotel wifi to transcribe your notes from your notebook to your word document on your laptop, a few email notifications popped up, catching your attention. Reception wasn’t the best, and you had so many other things occupying your focus and time—mainly Jeno—that you rarely checked your phone. Not to mention that before you’d left, you were unsure of if you’d even have cell phone service on the island, so you’d told your friends to email you if they needed anything.

One was an email from NingNing, the short preview of her message that you could see making you shake your head. You were not on a romantic getaway with Jeno.

The next was some flyer from a store advertising their latest sale, which you quickly discarded in favor of opening the one from Ms. Zhang. The person who was literally paying for you to be there right then.

The gist of her email was basically just asking for a status update, a routine check-in to see how your research and interview was coming along. You filled her in on what kind of direction and outline you were thinking of for the article, telling her some of the things you’d done together around the island, framing it as professionally as you could. However, it was very hard to make it business-like, you realized in slight defeat as you reread the email draft to yourself. Maybe you could make it casual-business-friendly-sounding instead. After editing a couple phrases here and there, you read it one more time. Satisfied that you’d made it sound the least like a ‘romantic getaway’ as possible, you hit send.

You had just sent it when Jeno emerged from the bathroom, fully clothed and toweling off his wet hair.

When the two of you had gotten back from wandering the streets and seeing the nightlife of the town, you’d given him first shower of the night, wanting to sort out your notes as soon as possible. You had a lot to move over just from that night alone, especially the moment when Jeno was ordering something from an older street vendor and had suddenly busted out some local dialect he’d picked up from God knows where. And the man knew what he was saying too. Jeno never ceased to amaze you.

“Jeno,” you called his name out from where you sat cross-legged on the bed, laptop with the email still up in front of you.

“Hm?” He hummed in acknowledgement, abandoning his towel in order to run his fingers through his damp hair.

“The way the guys had described your exploring, and the stuff you’d told me to bring made me think it’d be more… rugged than this.”

A handsome, crooked grin split his lips, seeming very delighted at your observation, “And what did the guys tell you?”

“Jaemin and Renjun seemed fearful for my life and told me to be safe; Haechan and Chenle were rather ecstatic and told me to have fun in a tone that made me not want to know their implications; Mark told me to bring plenty of water and a first aid kit; and Jisung… well he didn’t actually say anything but his face said it all.”

“You talked to all the guys about the trip?”

“Not by choice, NingNing brought me to an influencer party with Jisung, Jaemin, and Renjun the other day, and I was summoned to the lounge by Chenle and subsequently ambushed by him, Haechan, and Mark about it.”

“They’re all menaces,” Jeno shook his head fondly. “But don’t worry, I’ve got some plans for us tomorrow.”

“That sounds ominous.”

He giggled.

“So we’re hiking to the top of this volcano?” You summarized what Jeno had just told you, in much fewer words.

“Yep!”

“Then camping near the top, which we may or may not be allowed to do.”

“Yep!”

“Without a guide.”

“I’m your guide, Y/N! I do this kind of stuff all the time, and there’s a trail to follow anyway.”

“Now I know why Jaemin and Renjun feared for my life.”

“They were being dramatic, it’ll be fine.”

“Oh I’m not protesting going, I’ll just make sure to type up my will in the notes app in my phone first.”

“Now you’re being dramatic.”

You laughed, putting your hands up in surrender, “Alright, alright. I won’t write my final will and testament right now.”

“Let’s go!”

Thankfully, you’d taken heed of Mark’s advice to bring extra water. With the amount you were sweating, you would’ve been dehydrated less than an hour in if you weren’t constantly replenishing the lost fluids. It wasn’t an incredibly strenuous or difficult hike. Not a casual stroll, but you were managing. It was just that it was so hot and humid now that you were in the more confined landscape of the trees, you couldn’t tell if more of the moisture was your own sweat or the water hanging in the air and clinging to your skin as you continued through it.

Jeno kept you plenty entertained with stories of his previous (mis)adventures, almost all of which were solo. There were a couple times that he brought along others, but they didn’t go great. One unfortunate happenstance was when he’d dragged Eunseok out white water rafting with him and the poor guy fell out of the raft into freezing cold water. According to Jeno, his PA almost quit right on the spot. Another time, the other VIP lounge members had joined him as a celebration trip after Renjun hit 10 million subscribers. They ran out of water on the second day, Chenle ended up spraining his ankle, and they were ready to commit mutiny before the 48-hour mark, so the trip was concluded early.

“Jeno, it sounds like the people who go exploring with you don’t have a great track record of enjoying themselves,” you pointed out, taking another swig of water.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Y/N?” He countered.

Looking around, you could just make out a peek of blue ocean through the trees, and looking ahead of you, the two of you were more than halfway to the top.

“Yeah, I am. So far. There’s still time for me to sprain my ankle or fall into a freezing river.”

He shook his head affectionately at your teasing, “Careful, you’re going to jinx yourself.”

“Old hiking superstition? If you talk about spraining your ankle you will?”

“No, but still. My own little superstition, I guess.”

“Got it. Then I’ll un-jinx myself: I will not sprain my ankle or fall into a freezing river on this trip,” you announced loudly to the surrounding forest, earning another fond smile from Jeno accompanied by a soft chuckle.

“There you go.”

“Another five minutes or so and we’ll be at the peak!” Jeno yelled back over his shoulder to you excitedly.

You were a few steps behind him, your legs had been complaining for the greater part of the last thirty minutes. But with this information, you felt reinvigorated, having the end so close bringing a new spark of energy to your tired limbs. You caught up to him, sharing the trail at the wider parts and staying just behind him at the narrower parts.

Finally, you were at the top. And you knew because the trees opened up to a clearing, the leaves and branches giving way to the most incredible sights you could’ve imagined.

“Wow,” you breathed out, turning to get the full view.

From here you could see the whole little town below you, other nearby islands, the forest you had just hiked through, and the vast, glistening blue sea surrounding you. The sun bounced off of the water at the perfect angle to make it look like it was made of diamonds. It was breathtaking. Not to mention that now that you were out of the humid forest, you could once again feel the cool breeze across your heated skin.

A pod of dolphins surfaced briefly, their fins dipping up and down between the calm waves.

“Jeno, dolphins!” You pointed them out to him eagerly, instinctually clutching his arm in excitement. “Did you know that dolphins in the Amazon River are pink because of repeated skin abrasion, and that the males are pinker because they have a lot more interspecies aggression?”

“I think my guide told me something like that, but I was too focused on getting my paddle back from one to really listen to him.”

You turned to him with wide eyes. “You’ve seen them?”

“Yeah, I went to the Amazon last summer. I had to wrestle my paddle back from a rather playful one,” he shrugged, as if it was just a casual little day trip or something. “So you really like dolphins?”

“I did a report for school when I was like 11, some of the info just stuck.”

As you kept watching the dolphins, a smaller one popped up in the middle of the pod. “Oh! A baby! It’s so cute!”

“Yeah, she is,” he agreed with you.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “You can’t tell it’s a girl from here!”

Then you looked over at him, realizing that his focus wasn’t on the dolphins, but on you. Mumbling something about professionalism, you let go of his arm, clasping your hands in front of you as you awkwardly looked back out to the sea.

With a victorious smirk on his face—probably enjoying the fact that he was able to fluster you—Jeno took a few steps away from you, yanking his knapsack off his back and grabbing a blanket from it, “Time for a late lunch.”

He laid the blanket out on a flatter part of the terrain, then brought out a small assortment of foods. You sat down with him, eager to dig into the food. With how much your legs hurt from hiking up here, you hadn’t realized that you were starving until he mentioned lunch. Your stomach growled angrily, and you just hoped it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear.

Jeno had packed a very nice lunch for you to share. For the most part, you two were quiet, mouths full of food and eyes still drinking in the stunning view of where you were. You turned your phone on to snap a few pictures before shutting it off again. With no charging ports out here, you had to conserve the battery until you were back in the hotel.

“Do you know which island that is?” You asked Jeno, pointing to the one that seemed the closest to you.

“Nope.”

“That one?” You pointed to a different one.

“Nope.”

“This one?” You teasingly pointed at the ground you were sitting on.

Jeno raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

Right as you had opened your mouth to say something smartassy back, you pursed your lips in defeat. “Uh, nope.”

He chuckled, capping his water and starting to put the trash and leftover food back into his bag. You followed his lead, standing when he did so he could pack the blanket back up too. Stretching, a few satisfying cracks came from your back, letting go of the tension that had built up from your sitting position that probably wasn’t great for your spine.

“We should head down to the campsite soon,” Jeno informed you quietly as you had gone back to watching the ocean.

He’d told you while you were still at the base that you wouldn’t be camping at the peak, but at another area a little further down the mountain that was a lot safer for sleeping on. You wished you could’ve stayed up here for the rest of your life.

“Can’t we stay and watch the sunset?” Your voice was nearly a soft whine as you resisted leaving so soon. “It’s got to be incredible from up here.”

“I’m sure it is,” he sounded very reluctant to be telling you this. “But we have to set up camp before it gets too dark.”

“A couple more minutes?”

“Yeah, of course.”

After being rather useless in helping Jeno set up your campsite—not for any chivalrous reasons on his part, you were truly just inept at things and did more harm than good when you tried to help—you sat outside the tent with him. The two of you were going to be sharing a tent, which he had asked earlier if that would be okay. You told him it was fine with you.

The blanket previously used for lunch earlier was under the two of you as you sat just outside the tent. The site Jeno had chosen as your campsite was in a rare area where the foliage wasn’t too thick, and you could just make out some of the ocean as the sun set. It wasn’t the picture-perfect sunset you imagined could be seen from the peak, but it was still pretty.

You continued with your interview questions as you looked out towards the water, scrawling down his answers in the fading light. You couldn’t quite see what you were writing, hoping you didn’t just make a bunch of illegible scribbles instead of notes. He spoke again of his trip to the Amazon, saying how he’d like to go back again sometime, and maybe have a better look at the pink river dolphins. The way he said it fostered some implications, a thought in your mid that maybe you could go with him if he did go back. That was a nice thought. And impractical one, but it gave you warm fuzzies nonetheless.

“So, why do you think you like exploring so much?” You asked him after hearing so many stories of all the destinations he’d gone to.

“Who doesn’t like to travel?”

“What you do… it’s not just travelling, it’s not just a vacation. You’re not booked up in five stars hotels in city centers or doing every tacky tourist thing out there. You get at the heart of where you are, you explore it, you don’t just visit it. Why is that?”

“That’s a rather deep question,” he let out a light chuckle, shifting to face you as he closed his eyes, taking a moment to think. “I guess… like you said, I try to get at the heart of the place, not the surface-level stuff everyone else sees. I’ve always had a sort of wanderlust in me. When I was about twelve, I damn near gave my mom a heart attack because I got on a train and wanted to see where it went and ended up fifty miles from home. And now, I don’t know, I guess the stuff everybody else does doesn’t really interest me… the picture that’s painted to tourists of a place isn’t what it actually is, and I want to find out what is. If that makes sense. Did that make sense?”

You swallowed hard, nodding fervently. “Yeah, it did. I completely understand, yeah.”

That’s how he saw the world, and it was beautiful. And maybe you could see it like him; maybe you could look past the picture that’s painted and what everyone else sees to get at the heart.

Up this high, cold started setting in some time long after the sun had finished setting and darkness was all around you, save for the soft glow of the lantern Jeno had going. The temperature wouldn’t drop terribly, but it was cooler than it was during the day, encouraging you to tuck your chilly fingers into the inside of your knees for some warmth.

“I’m sorry,” Jeno frowned, standing up and stepping over to the tent. “I forgot to tell you to bring a jacket, didn’t I?”

“I’m alright, Jeno,” you assured him, but his arm popped back out of the tent holding a couple pieces of clothing.

It was two sweaters, one he offered out to you, the other presumably for himself. You didn’t refuse, which maybe you really should have for professionalism’s sake. Slipping the hoodie over your head then sticking your arms in, you were immediately swallowed up by it. Sure, Jeno was pretty buff, but you were sure this would be oversized even on him.

You didn’t even have to try to pull the sleeves over your hands, sweater paws already there as soon as you’d put it on. Which wasn’t ideal if you wanted to keep writing stuff down for the article.

“I would’ve told you that I’m a human space heater, but I figured this was a little more professional,” he said, heavy implications there.

Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach as you took it upon yourself to scoot closer to him until your legs and sides were touching, “This is still professional, just two professionals huddling together for warmth.”

“Yeah.”

You were trying to convince yourself more than you were him, knowing that you couldn’t really fool yourself on this one. But damn, you could pretend you did.

It was pretty soon after he’d gotten sweaters for the two of you that Jeno interjected into your conversation, “So when is the article technically over? When you’re done writing it? When your boss okays it? When it’s compiled with the other articles in that issue of the journal? When the copies hit the shelves and its uploaded to the website?”

You let out a shallow breath, knowing what he was really asking. When can the two of you date?

The part of you that was saying ‘never!’ was getting smaller and smaller, and the part of you who just wanted it to be right now was growing bigger and bigger. And yet, for some reason, you were still listening to the little one.

“I don’t know, probably when it’s officially published. You know, when ‘the copies hit the shelves and it’s uploaded to the website.’”

“When do you think that will be?”

“The first one is being published in this month’s issue. So, depending on how fast I get this one written up and proofed, at the earliest next month.”

“And the latest?”

“A couple months. I’m not sure how long Ms. Zhang will want between the two, if she wants to leave the audience in suspense for longer or give them the next part as soon as possible. Probably the first one, if I’m being honest.”

“Oh,” Jeno’s pout that you could see illuminated from the lantern was suddenly split into a wide yawn. “We should go to sleep, we’ve got the climb back down tomorrow.”

You were glad that he had brought it up first. After all, you were pretty tired, but you weren’t about to be the one to end the nice time you were having. Nodding, you stood, taking the lantern in your hand as Jeno folded the blanket back up.

Ducking into the tent, you immediately plopped down onto your sleeping bag, giving Jeno as much room as possible to maneuver his limbs around as he zipped the tent up behind him and set his stuff down in the corner. You put the lantern down at your feet, keeping the area illuminated as you climbed into your sleeping bag and started settling in for the night.

With the covers pulled up to your shoulders and Jeno’s hoodie bunching around your face in a comfortably warm way, you were pretty content to fall asleep then and there. But the light was still on.

Groaning, you looked down towards your feet, glaring at the lantern you knew you’d have to get un-comfy to turn off. Jeno had a small smile on his face as he sat up, “I’ll get it. You ready to turn it off?”

You nodded, your ‘yes’ muffled by the hoodie.

The last thing you saw before complete darkness was Jeno’s soft grin. That was a rather nice image to have in your mind as you drifted off to sleep.

Eyes fluttering awake, the first thing you were aware of was that you were warm. Very warm. Way too warm. One might say that you were currently in a pool of your own sweat. You’d have to wash this hoodie before giving it back to Jeno, it was definitely disgusting.

Speaking of Jeno, he wasn’t in the tent with you, which you noticed as you peeled the somewhat damp sweater off yourself. You took the opportunity to apply some more deodorant and change your short sleeve shirt before shoving your feet back into your shoes. You headed out of the tent, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you did so.

The very last traces of the sunrise were still in the sky from the little that you could see, but it was definitely morning. Looking around, you spotted Jeno standing a little further away from the tent, holding his hand out towards a lower-hanging branch. You wouldn’t have quite been able to reach it yourself, but he could. Perched atop the branch was a bright blue bird, eating right out of his hand. Your eyes widened just a little at this, though you were too tired to be terribly surprised.

Watching him feed the bird for a little longer, you felt your chest swell. His hair was messy, not having fixed his bedhead yet; a peaceful hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth; his big, round, eyes watched the bird eat with a certain simple happiness that for some reason had tears threatening to well up in your own.

You opened your mouth to call out to him, but instead a hoarse croak came out, one that made the bird take off in a flurry of blue feathers and fear. Jeno’s head whipped around to look at the source of the noise, you, and a bright grin came to his features.

“Morning, Y/N,” his voice was even deeper from sleep as he greeted you. He didn’t even seem mad that you’d scared off the bird.

As he approached you, the swell in your chest continued to the point where it hurt, and your vision started going blurry from the tears building up. Jeno’s expression changed to one of concern as he seemed to notice your moist eyes the closer that he got.

“Wh—”

You’d finally gone insane, you’d decided. Absolutely bonkers, completely crazy. After all, how else would you explain the fact that you were now kissing Jeno?

With your hands gripping at his shirt to bring his mouth down to yours, you kissed him like you’d been sick for your whole life and his lips were the cure. All the voices in your head finally shut up, your chest decompressed, and a single tear ran down your face.

He immediately kissed you back, but his hands seemed unsure of what to do, gingerly resting on your arms, featherlight as they hovered there. As if he was afraid that he’d break you, despite the force with which you had crashed your mouth to his.

When you let yourself come back down—and also breathe—you loosened your grip on Jeno’s shirt, releasing him from the slightly hunched position he had been in. Slowly, you brought one of your hands down to wipe away the lone tear.

Jeno was looking at you with a tilted head. “Well, that wasn’t very professional.”

A strangled chuckle escaped your mouth as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, “Yeah, sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize,” he said softly, a gentle hand coming to cup your cheek, urging you to look back up at him. And when you did, he lightly brushed his lips against yours. A tender ghost of a kiss, one that didn’t last long as Jeno ended it almost as soon as he’d started it.

Opening your eyes, you saw a nearly silly grin spread across his face, precious giggles bubbling up. His smile was contagious, one gracing your mouth as well.

“Is this going to ruin the integrity of your article?” He asked, still smiling down at you. “If you want this to be a thing, of course.”

“I do, I do,” you nodded fervently, a great weight lifted off your soul now that you let yourself admit that. “I’ll tell Ms. Zhang and see what she wants to do about the articles. Until then, we’ve got to lay low.”

“Movie nights,” he immediately surmised.

Quite liking the idea, you agreed, “Yeah, movie nights.”

The doors opened to the VIP lounge, where you had agreed to meet Jeno after your meeting with your boss. It was almost two weeks after you’d returned from what NingNing was now definitely referring to as your ‘romantic getaway,’ which you couldn’t argue. Most of those two weeks was spent by you finalizing your second article, not wanting to tell Ms. Zhang about how that trip had really gone until after you had work to show for it.

Jeno was waiting for you, already standing up and pacing the small room nervously. He seemed more worried about this than you were, despite it really being your career on the line and not his.

You made a beeline to wrap your arms around his torso, burying your face in his chest, and he immediately reciprocated it, holding you closely and pecking the crown of your head.

“Hey, how’d it go?” His gentle tone of voice betrayed his assumptions that it was bad.

Bringing your face out of his chest in order to look up at him, you squealed, “She’s still going to publish them!”

“Ah!” He cried out, tightening his grip on you until it was practically bone-crushing. “I knew it! I knew you were just so good she would have to publish your articles.”

You elaborated, practically buzzing with excitement, “Because I kept out the uh, more private details of the trip and focused on you and the trip itself, she says that it ties up the loose end from the first one nicely. Although, she did recommend not going public until after the second article was out.”

“But you won’t get fired if we don’t abide by that recommendation, right?”

“No, I won’t,” you reassured him, happiness fluttering in your chest as he pecked your forehead.

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, letting him peck your lips too before you spoke up. “I do think she’s right, though, we should wait a while to go out in public as a couple.”

Jeno clearly didn’t like that idea, sighing in reply, “Why?”

“It’s been less than a month, what if you decide you don’t like me?”

It was meant to be a joke, but he took it seriously, kissing your forehead, then your nose, then finally your mouth, “Impossible.”

After a moment, he relented, “Alright. I waited two months, another one or so shouldn’t be that bad.”

“Actually, she’s publishing the second article in a special edition that’ll come out two weeks after the first, not a month.”

“I can wait three weeks.”

And wait three weeks he did. Three weeks exactly. Twenty-one days after your conversation in the VIP lounge, two days after your second article hit the shelves, Jeno picked you up for your first public date. This time, you let him come up and get you—your roommate wasn’t home to bother you—and he left his hat and face mask at home.

“Hi Jeno,” you greeted him as you opened the door.

“Hi, baby,” he replied, wasting no time in lacing your fingers together as you walked to the elevator.

As soon as you stepped foot out of your apartment building, whatever resolve he had broke down, and he smooched your cheek loudly. You giggled at the gesture, squeezing his hand to let him know that you were okay with it. After all, you’d made the poor guy wait longer than he should have, some PDA was in order.

The date was at a small café a few blocks over, within walking distance. Which you were sure Jeno appreciated, having a longer time to be out in public with you, never once letting go of your hand or without physical contact with you. He had to let everybody know that you were dating, and you didn’t mind. You liked that he was so ecstatic to be dating you.

At the café, you ordered up at a front counter, and the cashier asked, “Together or separate?”

“Together!” Jeno replied brightly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

You leaned over to murmur to him, “She means, are we paying together or separate?”

“Together!” He repeated.

Squinting up at him for a moment, you didn’t argue it, letting him take the check for both of you. Although you did take a few crumpled bills out of your wallet to drop into the tip jar. After getting your food, you eagerly dug in, a light and amicable conversation had between bites.

“So you really waited exactly three weeks, huh?” You teased him.

“The second article came out two days ago, I think that’s plenty of time for everyone to read it,” he defended himself.

“It took you five days to read it.”

He seemed about ready to quip something back when a muffled chorus of squeals cut him off. You took a brief glance around, eyes landing on a group of teenage girls standing just outside the window that you were seated by. They weren’t uncomfortably close, but it was clear what had made them so excited.

Jeno ducked his head shyly as he raised a hand to acknowledge them, only setting their nervous titters off again. This situation was eerily familiar, déjà vu washing over you.

But this time, you were kind of glad that he had left his mask and hat at home, and that he’d chosen a table by the window.

Because your heart soared as you were once again reminded of who exactly the man in front of you was. Not just a model who was known internationally, with fans who would recognize him out and about, with a career and life that was under the public gaze constantly, but also a cute, sweet, funny guy named Lee Jeno.

You could do that. You could subject yourself to that. It would be fine as long as you had Jeno with you.

With the girls still watching the two of you, you reached a hand out across the table towards him. Thankfully, he took your lead, picking it up before pressing a few tender kisses to your fingers. Hopefully the girls got the message that this was romantic and private, and nothing else.

A dating rumor with Lee Jeno was absolutely the one thing you needed in your life. Lee Jeno was absolutely the one thing you needed in your life.

“Jeno?” You called for his attention, ignoring the gaggle of fans outside the window.

“Yes?” He focused on you, squeezing your hand.

“I have a question…”

“I thought the interview was over,” he pouted teasingly.

“It is, I swear.” You lifted your linked hands pointedly. “I just… There’s something that’s kind of been nagging at me, about the interview.”

“Ask away.”

“Why me? Like, I remember at our first interview session, you thought I was just going to ask you all the normal stuff about celebrity crushes and stuff.”

“You remember what I said, about my parents’ shop? How I used to help out there?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“When NingNing brought you to the lounge, and you said that thing about you being a normal person, and me being a supermodel, and how you weren’t comfortable around me because of that, it really hit me. I-I really hated that.”

“Jeno, I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s not your fault,” he insisted. “It’s nobody’s fault, that’s just how it is, how our culture is, or whatever. But I hated that you felt like that around me. Because I didn’t use to be like that. I used to be a normal person, too. And I just thought that if you and I had met a few years ago, when I was working in my parents’ shop or something, I could’ve talked to you like a normal guy, and I would’ve been able to put you at ease and flirt with you like a normal person. Instead of having to do it in the most roundabout way like I did this time.”

You grinned. “Oh, I don’t know, you would’ve still been a stupidly attractive register boy, Jeno. I might’ve been a bit tongue-tied if we had met back then, too.”

“I guess we’ll never know, will we?”

“I guess not,” you clicked your tongue. “Though that would’ve been an even better meet-cute than me saying you looked like a dog.”

“Oh, so we’re not telling that story to our kids?”

“Kids?!” You sputtered out. “When did kids enter the equation here, Lee Jeno?”

“What? Who said that?” He blinked at you innocently.

“At least say the L-word first, jeez.”

“I love you.”

“Christ, I was joking!”

“I wasn’t!”

You shook your head, unable to fight off the smitten grin on your lips. “I love you too, Jeno. You crazy son of a bitch.”

⤷ blog masterlist

#jeno #jeno x reader #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #lee jeno #lee jeno x reader #nct #jeno fluff #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #jeno imagine #nct dream imagine #nct imagine #lee jeno imagine #i: jeno #f: tongue-tied #writing #text #mine #*100 #*200 #*300 #*400 #*500

[koisuko]

ask, and you shall receive ♥ @engie-main

Tw: none, fluffy, slight spoilers, fem reader

What it would be like as the Lin Kuei's youngest sister

Being the youngest daughter, you were often treated like a baby, even if you were a full grown adult.

Your father, when he was alive, had very little faith in your abilities, nothing you did was enough to earn is approval. Even when you had developed magic, much like your brothers, his face showed no sign of pride.

You often clung onto Kuai Liang in particular, like your life depended on it, as he provided a safe environment to vent on your frustrations. He never disagreed or belittled you for your feelings, placing a reassuring hand on your back as you sobbed beside him in emotional turmoil from your father’s lack of care.

Surprisingly, despite how cold he is, Bi-han kept you close and under his wing. He secretly wished you would come to him instead of Kuai Liang, wanting so desperately to be close with his younger sister, even though emotions were jumbled for him as well. He often envied his brother’s ability to comfort you, wishing he had the emotional intelligence to calm your nerves.

When Tomas entered the picture, you were glued to his hip. Everyday you woke up to mess with your brothers together, training together, and even opting to share a bed most nights due to nightmares. You had someone to relate to the younger sibling status, and it felt refreshing.

On missions, Bi-han often made it a point to have you by his side at all times, checking on you if you were to separate as if you were delicate without his protection. In truth, it sometimes annoyed you in how overly protective he was, how he watched over you like a hawk especially after your parents died. You knew that he cared, in his own way, but it made you feel as if he didn’t believe in your ability to fend for yourself without him.

“Who harmed you?” He would ask, his voice dark and laced with internal rage when you would return with any injuries from your prior mission. He would be too busy searching for your attacker to tend to your wounds, instead Kuai Liang would take that place while Tomas provided support while you grimaced in pain.

Not to say they weren’t just as concerned, but they were much more collected than their older brother, and knew that nothing could stand in his way when his protective rage took over.

Don’t even get started on crushes or potential love interest, your older brothers were intimidating to everyone, scaring away any potential suitors from even glancing in your direction. When Johnny Cage decided to hit on you, Bi-han sent him a swift punch to the face, “stay away from him, he is beneath you.”

When Bi-han betrayed his family, his clan, you were distraught to say the least. You knew he had a lot of inner struggles, especially with the treatment of him from your father, but you never thought he would act this drastically. Hearing he was the actual aid in your father’s death was even more disturbing, you felt your stomach churn at the thought.

It was overwhelming, on one hand you could understand why Bi-han is the way he is, wanting to give in to his pleas to join him in the rebuilding of the Lin Kuei despite the obvious corruption. On the other, you knew he was wrong in everything he had planned, you knew he was throwing morality out the window in his search for power, and betrayed not only you but the entire idea of the clan. You were being tugged between your torn family, both sides gripping on to you as if to tip the balance.

It eventually proved too much, causing you to disappear and stay in hiding with Lord Liu Kang. He was the only one you knew and trusted outside of your brothers, he promised confidentiality and kept you away from the war between your brothers.

When you eventually did reveal yourself, you refused to join either clan. Instead remaining solo under the guidance of Liu Kang, still occasionally visiting Tomas and Kuai Liang over tea.

Your brothers remained completely understanding of your decision, thinking it best to keep you out of this. Even Bi-han left you be, he would never admit it, but you were the last person he ever wanted to harm, and not a night goes by where he does not wonder if you are safe from the never ending battle of brothers.

#mk1 #fanfic #fanfiction #mortal kombat #mk1 x reader #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat1 #requests open #request #bi han sub zero #mk bihan #bi han #bi han mk #bi han mortal kombat #mk sub zero #sub zero #mortal kombat sub zero #mk1 kuai liang #mk kuai liang #kuai liang #scorpion #tomas vrbada #mk1 smoke #mk smoke #mk fandom #mk1 imagine #mk1 fanfic #mk1 spoilers #mk1 x you

[nayziiz]

Shadows | LN4

Summary: [Mafia] In the face of dire financial troubles, Lando receives a desperate plea from his father to unearth a lucrative solution within the family business. Fueled by the pressure to rescue his family from ruin, Lando stumbles upon a seemingly perfect venture—using luxury cars as a facade for the clandestine world of drug trafficking. With the unexpected partnership of Amelia Rossi, his father's best friend's daughter, Lando believes he has found the ideal accomplice. However, as the Norris family collides with the ambitious Russells in a ruthless bid to establish their dominance, the perilous path Lando has chosen places not only his newfound enterprise at stake but also entangles Amelia in the dangerous crossfire that unfolds.

Warning: Violence, drugs, blood, smut, fluff, guns

Pairing: Lando Norris x OC (Amelia Rossi) - appearances from other drivers

Masterlist

CHAPTER 1

Adam Norris, a man of unwavering intelligence and foresight, possessed a keen mind that proved to be the foundation of his family's success. Drawing wisdom from the teachings of his own father, he meticulously gathered knowledge that transcended generations. Adam's commitment to passing down this invaluable wealth of experience became evident as he shared it with his two sons, Oliver and Lando.

Oliver, the elder of the two brothers, entertained dreams beyond the confines of the family business. His aspirations leaned towards exploration and the creation of a family of his own, seeking a life that danced with the rhythm of distant lands and untold adventures. The allure of faraway places called out to him, shaping his aspirations far differently from the path his father had paved.

On the contrary, Lando demonstrated an early affinity for the intricacies of his father's business. From the tender age of thirteen, he became a silent observer in the boardroom, soaking in the nuances of negotiations and the delicate dance of corporate strategy. Lando's curiosity and natural acumen propelled him to actively engage in the family affairs, gradually transforming him into Adam's confidant and, eventually, his right-hand man.

As Lando navigated through the diverse facets of his father's enterprises, he embraced each challenge with determination and an appetite for learning. The evolution from a teenager attending meetings to a key player in his father's business empire was a testament to Lando's commitment and his father's trust in his capabilities.

The Norris legacy, steeped in generational wisdom and Lando's unwavering dedication, flourished under the guidance of a shrewd patriarch. The father-son duo forged a formidable partnership, where the torch of knowledge burned bright, illuminating the path for the next generation of Norris leaders.

Despite being a pivotal figure in the family business, Lando Norris's impulsive spending habits were a source of concern and consternation. His father, while recognizing the undeniable value Lando brought to the business, couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the financial whirlwind his son often found himself in.

Adam, pragmatic and stoic, seldom approved of Lando's extravagant expenditures. Yet, a nuanced understanding of his son's behaviour allowed Adam to chalk it up to Lando's yearning for the childhood he never fully embraced. The rationale was a blend of parental leniency and a desire for Lando to experience the joy and spontaneity that he might have missed in his earlier years.

However, the Norris family's financial stability faced a significant setback following a rocky investment. The losses were unforeseeable, and the blame could not be squarely placed on any one individual. The family found themselves at a crossroads, and it became clear that swift and decisive action was required to navigate the tumultuous financial waters.

Adam, burdened by the weight of the situation, turned to Lando, his son with the untamed spirit. Recognizing the need for Lando to step up and take charge, Adam appealed to his son's sense of responsibility and loyalty to the family. The family business, weathering the storm of financial hardship, required a leader capable of navigating through the tumultuous seas and steering it back towards prosperity.

In the hushed atmosphere of Adam's lavishly appointed office, Lando found himself summoned to a covert meeting, the dim lighting casting shadows that danced across the luxurious furnishings. The air was heavy with unspoken tension as Lando took his seat in front of his father's imposing desk.

Adam, a cunning and resolute businessman with a no-nonsense attitude, sat behind the desk, his expression betraying the gravity of the situation. The room, adorned with mahogany accents and opulent artwork, served as the backdrop for an exchange that held the fate of the Norris family legacy in its balance.

In a voice that brooked no argument, Adam presented Lando with a stark ultimatum. The family, once stable and prosperous, now faced the looming spectre of financial turmoil. The weight of responsibility bore down heavily on Adam's shoulders, and with a sense of urgency, he articulated the dire straits they found themselves in.

“The Norris family needs a fresh and lucrative income stream," Adam declared, cutting through the air with precision. "Our legacy is at stake, Lando, and I need you to step up to the plate. If we don't secure our position, we risk our place in society altogether. And, if that happens, you will be exiled from this family.”

Lando, feeling the gravity of his father's words, absorbed the weight of the ultimatum. The notion of being cut off from the family legacy, a legacy he had been groomed to uphold, added an unexpected layer of urgency to the situation. Adam's eyes, seasoned with the trials of the business world, revealed the desperation and determination that drove him to make the demand.

As the conversation unfolded, Lando grappled with the realisation that the Norris family, for all its prestige and outward success, was never above delving into murky waters when it came to ensuring their stability. The unspoken understanding that resonated between father and son transcended ethical boundaries, and Lando became acutely aware of the lengths to which the Norris patriarchs have gone to safeguard their family's prosperity.

In the dimly lit corner of the opulent office, a pact is silently forged. The Norris family's survival hinged on their ability to navigate the shadows, to engage in business practices that might raise eyebrows but were deemed necessary for the preservation of their legacy. The goals, always centred around stability and prosperity, now took on a new dimension as the Norris family braced itself for the challenges that lay ahead.

In the heart of the city's underbelly, hidden behind unmarked doors and guarded secrets, Lando found solace in the dimly lit sanctuary of his secret speakeasy. The air was charged with an aura of secrecy, and the distant hum of jazz music created a backdrop for contemplation as he navigated the labyrinth of decisions laid before him.

Seated in a secluded corner, Lando immersed himself in the speakeasy’s ambiance, surrounded by an eclectic mix of patrons engaged in hushed conversations and conspiratorial exchanges. The flickering candlelight casted dancing shadows on the exposed brick walls, mirroring the intricate thoughts that swirled within Lando's mind.

As he contemplated various ventures that could potentially salvage his family's fortunes, the weight of responsibility pressed heavily on his shoulders. The gravity of his father's ultimatum lingered in the air like an unspoken challenge, demanding a resolution that aligned with the legacy of the Norris family. The choices before him, however, seemed to form an intricate puzzle with no clear solution in sight.

The scent of cigar smoke mingled with the fragrance of aged whiskey, creating an atmosphere that mirrored the complexity of Lando's predicament. The clandestine dealings and veiled conversations around him served as a constant reminder of the high-stakes game he found himself entangled in.

Unable to escape the palpable tension, Lando raised a whiskey glass to his lips, drowning his worries in the amber liquid. Each sip seemed to carry the weight of his familial obligations, momentarily providing a respite from the tumult of conflicting thoughts. The jazz melodies, with their soulful undertones, offered a bittersweet soundtrack to his contemplation, resonating with the complexities of the choices before him.

As Amelia Rossi gracefully drifted through the smoky atmosphere of the speakeasy, the ambient jazz music and muted conversations provide a backdrop to her entrance. Dressed in her business casual attire from work, her clipped hair was loosened, cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of chestnut silk. In the dingy ambiance, she became a vision, an ethereal figure transcending the gritty reality of the exclusive establishment.

Lando, ensconced in his thoughts and surrounded by the clandestine energy of the speakeasy, noticed Amelia's arrival. Her presence stood out amidst the shadows and swirling emotions, like a beacon in the midst of obscurity. In that moment, he decided to confide in her, recognizing a familiar face and an old connection that ran deep.

Amelia and Lando shared more than just a friendship; their bond was a testament to a lifelong companionship forged in the crucible of childhood. Born mere months apart, they practically grew up side by side, the echoes of their laughter intermingling with the spirited conversations of their fathers on the golf course. The connection between the Norris and Rossi families transcended mere camaraderie; it was a tapestry woven with shared moments, unspoken understandings, and the promise that their destinies were intertwined.

Amelia's gaze met Lando's in the smoky haze of the speakeasy, and there was a flicker of recognition, a silent acknowledgment of the bond they shared. In her eyes, Lando found a unique comfort that transcended the chaos of the private world he navigated. As the jazz music weaved its spell, Amelia sank into the seat beside him and Lando opened up to her, sharing the weight of his father's ultimatum and the desperate need for a solution to salvage the family legacy.

“I want to export... things.” Lando confessed to Amelia, choosing his words carefully, his gaze intense and laden with the gravity of the proposition. Amelia listened attentively, as she sipped on her gin and tonic, her presence offering a calmness he needed to gather his thoughts and plans.

“Things?” Amelia raised an eyebrow, seeking clarification. Lando leaned in, lowering his voice to match the discreet ambiance of the speakeasy.

“Drugs, or contraband. Stuff people can't get just anywhere.” He clarified.

Amelia's eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and concern. The daring proposition hung in the air, the weight of its implications reverberating between them. Lando, propelled by a sense of urgency, continued to lay out his plan.

“With your help.” He added, his tone a blend of desperation and determination. “Your beautiful cars need owners. And, the owners need what we're offering. We strip the interiors, pack it with whatever substance they require, tidy it all up, and ship the car to them. With your last name, no one will ever think of checking anything except the exterior.”

Amelia absorbed the audacity of the proposal, her mind racing to comprehend the risks and potential rewards. Lando, eyes fixed on hers, did not shy away from the harsh reality of the suggestion. He laid out the intricate web of their venture, weaving a narrative that spoke to the urgency of his situation.

“What's in it for me?” Amelia finally questioned, her business acumen kicking in.

“You'll still make your usual profit by selling the car, and you'll get a 40% cut on whatever we're hiding. Think about the expansion you always dreamt of. Now is your chance to make good on it.” Lando attempted to persuade her.

Amelia, hailing from a well-respected family in London, initially hesitated at the risky proposition. The weight of societal expectations and the scrutiny that would undoubtedly accompany her involvement in such a venture loomed large. However, as Lando painted a vivid picture of the potential rewards and the adrenaline of expanding her luxury car dealership, Amelia found herself intrigued by the allure of the unknown.

“I'll do it.” Amelia finally conceded, her voice a mixture of determination and apprehension. 

She understood the enormity of the decision she was making, aware that the venture could lead them into murky territory. Yet, her loyalty to Lando and the unspoken promise of their shared history weighed heavily on her conscience.

Amelia knew that her connection to the prestigious Rossi family held a unique value. It added a layer of legitimacy to their dealings, creating a shield from prying eyes and potential scrutiny. The Rossi name, synonymous with respect and affluence, transformed into a strategic advantage in a venture fraught with risks.

With the decision sealed and a sense of inevitability hanging in the air, Lando, feeling a mix of relief and determination, decided to mark the beginning of their risky venture with a celebratory gesture. He motioned to one of the waitrons in the speakeasy, instructing them to bring a bottle of champagne to their secluded corner.

As the bottle arrived, its cork popped with a celebratory resonance, Lando took charge. He poured a generous serving of the effervescent liquid into two crystal glasses, the golden bubbles catching the dim light of the speakeasy. Lando extended a glass towards Amelia, a symbolic toast to the alliance they had formed.

“To new beginnings.” Lando raised his glass, his eyes meeting Amelia's.

“To new beginnings.” Amelia, still reserved, reciprocated the gesture as she tapped her glass against Lando's in a shared moment of acknowledgement.

As they savoured the crisp taste of the champagne, the speakeasy seemed to hold its breath, the ambient jazz music providing a subtle soundtrack to their clandestine celebration. The air was thick with the weight of their decisions, but for a fleeting moment, the bubbly elixir created a sense of levity, a respite from the complexities of the venture they were to embark upon.

“Finally, I get to work with you.” Lando remarked, a hint of excitement in his voice.

“Don't get too excited.” She responded, a reminder of the challenges that lay ahead and the gravity of the path they've chosen.

As the conversation shifted away from the formality of their risky venture, Amelia, wanting to inject a touch of casualness, playfully leaned against Lando. The dimly lit speakeasy seemed to embrace the casual moment amidst the weighty discussions that preceded.

“How's Zara?” Amelia inquired, steering the conversation towards more personal territory. “Flo told me you brought her home for dinner last week.”

“She's great. She's nice.” Lando's demeanour softened at the mention of Zara.

“Wow, tone down the enthusiasm.” Amelia teased.

“No, she's lovely, but she's just like everyone else - they just want money and status.” A wry smile tugged at Lando's lips.

“Yet you keep her around?” Amelia raised an eyebrow, challenging him with a playful smirk. 

“She's a welcome distraction at times.” Lando's response carried a note of self-awareness.

“I see. Why aren't you with her now then, distracting yourself?” Amelia, ever perceptive, didn’t miss a beat.

“Because someone else had what I needed tonight.” Lando's gaze shifted, meeting Amelia's eyes with a hint of vulnerability. “How’s Daniel?”

“Ah, Daniel.” Amelia sighed with a hint of amusement. “That ended a few weeks ago, already. He has too much energy for me to keep up with.”

“Strange for someone who's literally ten years older than you.” Lando chuckled, echoing the sentiment.

“I don’t mind it, but he’s the literal embodiment of a golden retriever. He never stops and sits still.” Amelia grinned, acknowledging the age difference with a playful shrug.

“You love dogs, though.” Lando observed.

“I do. I really do. But when it comes to relationships, I need someone a bit more on the fierce side of things, a bit more-”

“Like you.” Lando interjected, finishing her sentence with a knowing smile.

“Exactly. Someone who can match my pace, challenge me, keep up with the twists and turns. Daniel's great, but in matters of the heart, I need a different kind of energy.” Amelia nodded, a playful glint in her eyes.

Amelia, sat beside Lando in the dimly lit speakeasy, refrained from divulging a recent rendezvous with Charles Leclerc. It was an unusual occurrence for her to keep things from her best friend and closest confidant, but it felt different. She needed to be sure before sharing the details. As Lando continued the conversation, Amelia wrestled with the complexities of her recent experiences.

It wasn't just a casual affair with Charles. Amelia had always been meticulous about keeping her relationships light and transient. However, Charles offered a breath of fresh air after her complete separation from Daniel. Their connection was intense, fueled by a mutual passion for success. Charles, despite the demands of his job, reciprocated Amelia's energy, aligning with her ambitions.

He allowed her to take control, especially in the bedroom, an aspect of intimacy she had always wanted to explore. Charles became a juxtaposition to Daniel's perpetual energy, providing a different kind of excitement that drew Amelia in. Their encounters were more than just physical; they were charged with a shared fervour for life and success.

Despite the allure of her rendezvous with Charles, Amelia refrained from sharing the new chapter of her life with Lando. It was less about hiding, but rather about understanding the dynamics at play. Daniel, a once constant in her life, carried a different weight and expectation. With Charles, it was all about the divergence from her usual patterns, an exploration into uncharted territory.

Despite the excitement that Charles brought into Amelia's life, a lingering sense of unease persisted beneath the surface. As she navigated the nuances of their relationship, an elusive element remained that seemed to elude definition, something amiss that she never could quite put her finger on.

Amelia, a discerning and perceptive individual, grappled with the unspoken doubts that flickered in the corners of her mind. The connection with Charles, though passionate and invigorating, carried a subtle undercurrent of uncertainty. There was no lack of chemistry or shared interests; rather, an intangible aspect that evaded explanation.

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #mclaren #mclaren f1 #lando norris x oc #mafia!au #mafia!f1 #f1 #f1 driver x oc

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 10: An Unfamiliar World

Summary: Nyra is one of the older Archeron sisters. Twin to Nesta. Plagued by a mysterious illness that her mortal body cannot endure for too long. And yet, it seems her curse is to see her family suffer. When the youngest of her sisters is whisked away into the land of fae, immortality soon follows for the rest of them. And as an immortal, there is more to her that she has yet to know. 

Chapter Summary: Nyra tries to recall her memories from the Cauldron which includes the silhouettes of unfamiliar people. Rhys's sister makes an appearance. Nyra confronts Nesta. Shadows are supportive little darlings.

A/N: I am immensely thankful to @stormhearty. Your friendship is something precious for the real me who is a slightly crazy woman who loves food and fictional men. Thank you for helping me with this chapter. I will continue to fangirl over characters from books and manhwa with you.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

Nyra's POV

Approximately an hour was left for dinner. I was still sitting by the window in Elain's bedroom. Nesta was sitting on the armchair across me and the occupant of the room was still unconscious.

None of us were talking but I could hear the Cauldron cry as if it was in the same room. Its cries and pleas which I did not want to hear. Not after what it did to my sisters. I closed my eyes and remembered it.

It was cold and lonely in this place. The sensation on my body made it seem like I was floating. And then there was a rip. Pain shot through me. Pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I could not move. Could not open my eyes to see what was going on. It started from my head, from between the eyes. And then it was there, on my chest. I felt like something was being taken from me and that my body was desperately clinging on to it.

It was exhausting. I don’t even know if I was crying. And then pain vanished. I was someplace warm now. I opened my eyes and saw the darkness around me. I was a silhouette of light. Underneath me, a body floated. My body. My weak, mortal body. I was still connected to it. A single glowing string continued to connect me.

And then there were whispers behind me. I turned around and saw other silhouettes. There were many. Each of them were standing at a different distances from me. All of them with glowing eyes. They were different in appearance—different heights, build, sex, skin colour, hair colour, clothing and so much and yet, the only thing that was common was the glowing eyes. I noticed that only one of them did not have glowing eyes. In fact, her eyes were closed. She was the one standing closest to me. A young girl with large bat-like wings.

My entire being felt a pull. I looked around trying to identify the source. It was that string connecting me to my body that floated in the abyss. I looked behind at the figures and found them facing me. Even the young girl with closed eyes. Everyone except the girl lifted their hands and a string flowed out from their palms towards me. With a bundle of strings in my hands, I let them go. The strings floated around me. I waved my hands and with knowledge I did not know I possessed, I manipulated the strings.

They weaved themselves under my guidance into something. A string from my own palm emerged and joined the creation. Whatever that was finally created, came to rest in my arms and I held it. I looked at the body below me and dropped the thing on it.

I had created a body which was merging with the mortal one that floated. The golden body and my own body were merging. I felt more strings from those behind me and I pushed them towards the merging bodies. Something happened. It seemed to help with the merger. And the final product was complete. I looked behind at the figures and they were looking at me, not with glowing eyes but with their own eyes. Approval, happiness, determination, pride—many emotions floated in their eyes. All of them giving me the nod to do something.

I looked at the girl whose eyes were still closed but this time, her lips were parted. And her young voice spoke. “You were poisoned.” I froze.

Another voice from behind her spoke. “You fought well.” It was a woman—tall and larger than women. Easily six feet.

The girl spoke again, her voice pained. “He has been waiting for so long.” And her hand darted forward to push me towards the new body that had been created.

Something stopped me from reaching my body. Some creatures. Many creatures of different shapes and sizes. They were blocking my path. I had to go. The pull was getting stronger. I closed my eyes and the next thing I knew, I was moving—fighting. Like a warrior with practised ease and strength, I was destroying the demons surrounding me.

A familiar presence was nearby. I looked around and felt the gaze of a predator. A familiar presence. I walked closer and identified that to be the one whom I shared a womb in this life. A sibling. What was their name? Was it a girl or a boy? Either way, they shouldn’t be in this place. I raised my hand when I got close enough and pushed them away. Their presence completely vanished and I was left alone with the figures around me.

My fight continued. I won. I walked over to the body waiting for me like a vessel to fill it. A pained cry caught my attention.

“Please.” It begged. And some stupid part of me walked over and helped it. It was wounded and I healed it. “I am forever in your debt.” We talked a lot and then I walked back and felt my essence enter the body.

Once I had entered the body, I looked around. There was no light, no screams, nothing. Just pure darkness. I lifted my hands and checked them. I was glowing. Energy crackled around me. Something glowed from above me. I looked up and saw a bright thread, the only source of light in this darkness. An identical thread sprouted from my chest and ascended to meet it. I watched as the two thread merge into one, as though they were never separated. And then something grabbed my wrists. It coiled around them like a rope and pulled me upwards.

The next thing I knew, I was exiting the Cauldron. People around me were screaming my name. What was it? I could not even see anything clearly. Wisps of darkness and water blurred my vision to the maximum. Something cool and comfortable was all over me. Some energy. It helped me walk and led me to the source of the shining thread. And then they laid me down and I fell a wave of comfort and relief. And I fell asleep.

There was much more to all of this than what I could comprehend right now. That girl and all the figures lined up behind her. This silence in Elain’s bedroom was too loud. I wanted to scream and run and vomit and do so much, all at the same time. The beast within me was my own self. My real self. My power. At present, she was tame; like a cat curled up for a nap. But the cat was starting to get irritated. It was on the verge of transforming into another feline creature of greater size and power should it be provoked for too long. The only thing calming my inner self was the night sky. The stars were a calming sight.

But why did I feel like this? Like a part of me was absent. And the emptiness was seeping into the rest of me. A desperate feeling of yearning was there. For what? For who? Why? To be yearning so much to the point where it was starting to frustrate me—whose absence was affecting me so? I knew it wasn't father. I did not interact with the man who had been so absent from our lives. During our childhood when we were wealthy, it was a physical absence. During our teenage years when we were poor, it was an emotional absence. When Feyre was taken and we mysteriously became rich, the physical and emotional absence became far too much that I did not bother. We talked only when it was required. With him entrusting the keys of the house to me because he was too afraid to face Nesta, who was the healthier twin.

Was it for Feyre, who had been taken from us only to return as a completely different person? I did not even recognise the girl who came back the first time. A girl with life breathed into her only to tell us about the man she fell in love with. She left to save him. And then she returned as a fae. A broken shell of the woman she had become previously. Her subsequent visits showed improvement but I did not recognise her even then. She was no longer the woman who was our sister. She was free and powerful and independent and that was good for her but my sister had died and a new woman had taken her place. Feyre was no longer our sister in many aspects. And yet she was. But I had this powerful feeling that she would not have come to us after becoming fae if it weren't for the mortal queens and the Book of Breathings.

From what Nesta told me, Elain had begged not to be drowned in the Cauldron and yet she had been the first one to be Made. The woman who went in crying and the woman who returned were two different beings. And now, she was lifeless. The only semblance of who she was could be found in the open curtains. I looked at the sleeping sister. She was pale and thin and the bones of her hand, cheek and neck were too prominent.

Nesta, who had kicked and screamed, before being thrown into the Cauldron. How did she emerge? She hadn’t told me anything. But the woman who was sitting in front of me was withdrawn. She was no longer the panther who waited in the dark before striking. She was a cat who had retired to sleep. Nesta’s claws were no longer sharp.

Then for whom was I feeling so much? This burning sensation. I think I would've cried if I hadn't averted my eyes to look at the sea. Even in the darkness, I could identify where it was after having looked at for so long during the day. So much love, it made me feel like I was bundled up in a velvety blanket. But the other emotions made me feel like the blanket would be ripped away from my body and I would have to wake up to a horrible world.

Nesta's movement began to distract me from my own inner turmoil. She had stood up, walked towards the door, opened it and peeped outside to see if anyone was there and then closed it again. She came back but did not sit down. "We ought to get ready for dinner."

"I suppose we should." I stood up and then looked at Elain. We did not speak because we did not know what to speak of. We walked over to the door connecting Elain's room with Nesta's and entered and closed the door behind us.

"Your room is ahead." Nesta pointed towards the door straight ahead.

"What do you feel about all of this?" I turned to the window. I knew that Nesta required space before she could answer difficult questions. Not looking at her meant that she would feel less pressurised and that she would have more clarity of thought.

Nesta looked outside the window. "We are in an unfamiliar world. I do not mind it much. I do not have a marriage waiting for me. But…"

"You worry for father?" I wanted to know what she felt for him. She did not despise him as much as she tried to pretend. And she would always leave the room whenever I tried to confront her about it, knowing my sick body couldn't follow her. But now I could. And it seemed like she was realising that bit too.

Nesta scoffed. "The man could barely pick himself up even when Feyre went out to hunt. You were sick. We needed the money for your medicines."

"What about you and Elain? What were the two of you doing?" This was it. This was everything. Our lives had revolved around this for so long. Feyre had continuously begged me not to confront Nesta or Elain about this and I truly found her foolish for that. Her kindness had been extended to undeserving people.

"We could never send Elain out. She…"

"Then what about you?" I asked softly. I did not have the patience to shout at her and she was no longer poised to strike. So would she answer me? "Feyre was just a child."

"I know you would've gone out." Nesta's voice was a mere whisper. "You would've done anything and everything for all of us. You're like Feyre in that aspect."

"I think I would have." I spoke. The salty scent of her tears spread around the room. "Do not try to deflect, Nesta."

I knew how much Nesta hated that cottage. That bed where mother had birthed us and died. Everything around us was a reminder of the weakness we carried within ourselves.

"And that trait of yours made you push me out of the Cauldron." Nesta looked at me, vision blurred by tears.

"What were you doing, Nesta?" I had to be more firm with her. I was rarely firm with any of them. That had costed us too much. And whenever I was, I snapped too badly.

"I was scared!" Nesta's voice rose.

"Scared of the world and in that house, only our father knew how to navigate through it." I added and hummed. "He disappointed you, didn't he? When he did not go out to find work and instead remained… hopelessly hopeful for a miracle." I moved towards the door Nesta had pointed at, the one that would lead to me bedroom and stood by the door. The door knob was a beautiful piece of wood, simple and shaped. "Our mother's lessons never included any survival skills but our father's travels did."

I remembered how Feyre had snuck into our father's office to see the maps and the trinkets he brought back from his travels. How father sat her on his lap and told her stories of the world outside. Nesta was staunchly against that. I simply smiled and encouraged Feyre to listen to father's stories. He would tell her about the different people, cultures, cuisines and adventures he had. And eventually those stories shaped Feyre into becoming the one to step outside their home to be the breadwinner.

"And even now, you love him."

"That's ridiculous." Nesta sneered.

"Why?"

"Because I am my mother's daughter."

"All of us are."

"I am more of her than any of you ever was."

"And what are we?"

"Not hers." Nesta did not say anything more but I understood that this was a partition that would remain in her mind. That Nesta would forever see herself as someone apart from her sisters.

"Is that why you never stepped out? Because our mother would've deemed it beneath her to toil for the family? And you're her daughter?" The words escaped me before I could filter them. I saw Nesta flinch. I knew I had struck well when she reacted and I did not like this. I did not like this conversation. Did not like that she was like this. Nesta would've done anything and everything for Elain and I but for Feyre, what was it?

I remembered all the times when we were young and Feyre used to look up to us. I spun my history lessons into stories and told my own version of it to put the younger ones to sleep while Nesta silently watched even though she pretended to be uninterested. Stories of kings and queens, princes and princesses and adventurers and treasure hoarders. Mythologies were the easiest to tell her.

Feyre learned words easily as she listened to my stories and Nesta's advanced speaking. Maybe that's why mother never realised she did not know how to write and read. And for a long time, I did not. Not until mother had passed. Feyre was friends with Elain in a way she never was with me. Friends who would run around the house together, paint together, garden together. To her I was an older sister, but Elain was a friend more than a sister. But Nesta?

For so long, I'd seen her hopefully look at Nesta for the love and companionship she received from us. She did pick up the fierceness from her but she never knew how to wield it. She learned it all on her own and while I was proud of her for being able to do everything on her own, why was she? Why was she the only one providing for us in a house with two more healthy women? Why was she the only one who could do anything and be useful in a house with two capable women?

I'd fed her false hopes during our childhood that Nesta would come around but I believed them to be true. I'd seen how Feyre, fascinated with the first set of paints, had created something and gift it to Nesta. The first of her creations was a gift to someone who simply took it, said her thanks and retired to her room impassively. Feyre did not know what it was called but she saw Nesta using something to mark the book from where she paused; a bookmark.

I saw Nesta keep that bookmark for years, not even allowing me to touch it. Elain did not know where that bookmark was from. The same went for her drawings. Every little scribble, Nesta kept them guarded in her drawers and never told Feyre. She never scolded Feyre for continuing to draw even when we had limited paper after losing our riches. She simply kept them when Feyre thought they were being burned to feed the fire in the cottage. Nesta was a woman of actions and words so why did she not act?

"We are our own person before we were her daughters." I twisted the doorknob to open the door to my room. The luxurious space greeted me with nothing but unfamiliarity. This was not home. "And you are no longer hers. No longer her daughter. I hope you come to accept it someday." I took a step but my other leg remained where it was. "You must apologise to Feyre for not stepping up. The both of you need to move past that."

I let the door slam behind me and began pacing the room. The fact remained that Nesta and Elain did nothing while father and I were physically incapable of going out. Feyre was the only one who did it. And I did not know why I kept defending both of them in my head. I removed the hair tie and enjoyed the feeling of my hair being free.

What did it mean to be an elder sibling? To step in for the younger ones? If that was the case, Nesta and I had done that many times before mother died. Things changed after that. Even then, I'd seen Nesta actively step in for Elain and in my sickness, for me but Feyre was someone she left behind.

I opened the closet wondering whether I needed to dress for the dinner or whether this gown would be appropriate enough. A silk gown of midnight blue grabbed my attention. I took it from where it hung and admired how it was more soft than the one I currently wore. I closed the door of the wardrobe and took the dress with me to the bathing chamber.

The bathtub sat there like the king in his kingdom. I looked away from it and stared at the mirror in front of me. A woman with incomparable beauty stared back but she was so confused. What good was flawless hair and skin and body when I could no longer identify myself? The woman in the mirror was an unfamiliar face. I was never this beautiful, never this healthy. This was definitely someone else.

This is not home. I wanted to cry at that.

The Cauldron had demanded far too much from me. It had exhausted me before I could leave its clutches. I felt it all over my body and I knew I was close to hyperventilating. I'll never return home. And all that pain. I would have died and yet, here I was.

What was the point of snapping at Nesta? We were here, no longer human. We could never return. And what was there for us in the land of the fae? There is nothing. This is not home. My home with my sisters and father. And when I inadvertently looked in the direction of the bathtub, I saw the Cauldron—black and cruel. I screamed in my head at myself to run away. But my legs, why weren't they moving? The Cauldron seemed to nearing me and I wanted to vanish into the shadows.

And as if my prayers were answered, the shadows emerged from behind like the waves of an ocean. I saw their reflection in the mirror and I crumbled as they embraced me and took me away. It was cold and calm. Only the wind remained for me to hear. I could not process anything but my own cries and tears. Where's my home? I screamed into the shadows and wailed. Tears had blurred my vision but I could see enough to identify that I was someplace dark. I sat down on the cold floor with my knees to my chest.

Home was Nesta's stubbornness, my father's hopes for tomorrow, Elain's smiles and Feyre's wildness. But I was somewhere where I could recognise none of my sisters. My stubborn sister had left everything to the youngest, who in turn lost a part of herself. My happy sister no longer smiled. And what was I?

I don’t know how long I was crying but a hand grabbed my shoulder. It was the only source of warmth. It was a large hand and I looked back. There was no one. I could not see the hand on my shoulder but I could definitely feel it. It was still there. And the shadows retreated and I was on the bathroom floor with a worried Nesta in front of me. She saw me and was saying something. She hugged me and rocked me and I closed my eyes. It was when I could hear my surroundings that I dared to open my eyes. Nesta was crying as she held me.

I moved my hand, took her elbow and tried to remove it away from me. It was a heavy arm and my movement made her release me from my embrace to look at me. Her tears were flowing and she looked so worried. “Are you alright?” She grabbed my cheeks and inspected me. “Did something happen? Talk to me, dear.”

Nesta was never affectionate unless she was worried. And that she definitely was at the moment. “I’m fine.” I whispered.

I escaped her embrace and stood up. I had yet to wash my face and I did just that. I kept on gathering cold water in my hands and splashing it on my face until I felt content. I looked up at the mirror and saw someone who I was starting to recognise. Me. The broken me. I took the towel hanging nearby and dabbed my face with it. I had to change clothes. As I was removing my clothes, I heard her call my name.

"Come to me after you've spoken to Feyre." Nesta knew what I was talking about. I wore the midnight blue gown which exposed my neckline and clung loosely to my figure. My hair was in a bun but with a few stray curls escaping here and there. We stared at each other until I made the move to leave for dinner even though I did not know where it was going to.

I walked ahead. I could hear Nesta behind me but I descended the stairs and heard the noise coming from one of the floors. I followed the voices and halted. I was suddenly reminded of the fact that I will be dining with strangers. Even though I'd met a few of them and dined with the brothers before, that was back in my own home. I saw Feyre and her family and I felt like something was attacking me. Meeting her in-laws was not how I ever expected it to be but when I saw Feyre walking towards me, I realised that I did not recognise her at all. Where the hell was my sister and who was this woman?

****

TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels@impossibelle@esposadomd@starswholistenanddreamsanswered@judig92@bunnyredgirl@sh4nn@a-frog-with-a-laptop@kattzillaa@ronnieglennn@wallacewillow0773638@forgiveliv@justdreamstars@donttellthecats@cat-or-kitten@jojodojo02@wandas-dream@evylynny@weasleyreidstyles@stqrgirlies-blog@why4anne@acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe@macimads@footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley @deeshag @footyandformula @nebarious @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @5onedirection5 @eatsleepreadance1 @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @maddybraps @mrstepes @violet-potter

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel x oc #azriel x original character #a court of silver flames #acofas #azriel shadowsinger #acosf #acomaf #acowar #azriel spymaster #azriel #rhysand #feyre archeron #feysand #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #elain archeron #lucien #lucien vanserra #night court #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel x reader

[soulofapatrick]

Steadfast Sanctuary - Peeta Mellark x Female Reader 

Summary: You have a nightmare and Peeta is there to help you through it

Words: 1.8k

Y/N’s POV

The arena unfurls before me like a macabre canvas, a haunting tapestry of memories etched in pain and survival. The 75th Hunger Games, that unforgiving stage that nearly claimed my existence, manifests once again in vivid hues. My fingers tighten around a makeshift blade, a crude and desperate attempt at defence, carved from a jagged shard of metal.

Cannons echo in the distance, a grim symphony marking the fate of those who dared to seize resources from the cornucopia. Each reverberation pounds against my chest, the rhythmic thud of a heart burdened with the imminent spectre of doom. I falter at the edge of a stagnant pond, its waters a murky mirror reflecting the desolation that surrounds me. The feeble rays of light filtering through the canopy paint a sickly sheen upon its surface.

In an eerie dance, the water coils and rises, a grotesque ballet choreographed by unseen forces. Twisting tendrils form macabre visages, grotesque echoes of fallen tributes—faces contorted in anguish and despair. Their silent screams pierce the air, an icy grip seizing my veins with terror. Desperation propels me to turn away, to flee this haunting spectacle, yet my feet betray me, ensnared in the nightmare's merciless hold.

From the depths emerges a spectral hand, skeletal and ethereal, reaching out with phantom fingers extended—an invitation or a warning, I cannot discern. Its silent plea beckons, a macabre summons to join the chorus of the departed. Horror seizes my senses, a scream clawing its way from the depths of my throat, a cacophony echoing through the desolate terrain.

Abruptly, I’m torn from the clutches of that harrowing vision, gasping for air, drenched in cold sweat. Reality feels tenuous, a delicate thread woven between the tendrils of the dream and the anchor of the present. Peeta's voice pierces through the fog, a distant lighthouse guiding me back to the shores of wakefulness. Struggling against the dream's residue, I attempt to tether myself to the present, to sever the haunting tendrils that cling mercilessly to my senses.

“Hey, it’s alright. You’re safe,” Peeta’s voice, a soothing melody, washes over me. His touch is gentle as he brushes strands of hair from my forehead, a gesture both comforting and grounding. I struggle to anchor myself in the present, to shake off the lingering tendrils to that haunting dreams. 

My fingers instinctively seek purchase, clutching at Peeta’s arm as if its the sole lifeline tethering me to reality. His presence is a steadfast anchor amidst the storm of lingering terror. With each word, his voice seems to carve a path through the fog, gradually guiding me away from the haunting remnants of the dreadful dream. 

Peeta responds to my struggle with unwavering patience, coaxing me gently to sit upright. The coolness of the room contrasts sharply with the lingering hear of the nightmare, but his touch is a comforting warmth against my skin. His steady guidance helps regulate my breathing, his had a reassuring weight on my back, rising and falling in rhythm with erratic gasps for air. 

As I attempt to wrestle free from the tendrils of fear that cow around my consciousness, Peeta’s calm presence remains a beacon of solace. His gaze, a soft azure amidst the shadows, holds a silent promise of safety and understanding. 

“Hey, baby, focus on your breath,” He murmurs, his voice a soothing whisper against the chaos in my mind. His hand rests over mine, guiding it gently to his chest, urging me to feel the steady thud of his heart. I press my palm against the comforting rhythm, seeking refuge in the tangible assurance of his existence, a living testament to the present. 

In synchrony with his heartbeat, I attempt to steady my own tumultuous rhythm, finding solace in the simple act of feeling his pulse beneath my palm. Peeta's unwavering presence and the reassuring cadence of his heart serve as a lifeline, gently guiding me back to the calm shores of wakefulness.

Peeta makes a move to rise, perhaps intending to give me space or fetch something to soothe the residual tremors of the nightmare, but a sudden surge of panic grips me. Instinctively, I tug at his arm, a silent plea not to leave my side. He hesitates, his eyes reflecting concern and empathy, before heading my unspoken request. 

As Peeta hesitates in response to my unspoken plea, I feel a surge of panic, a silent but urgent need for him to stay. His eyes, pools of concern and empathy, seem to comprehend he unspoken turmoil within me. Without a word, his decision is made. With a tender understanding, Peeta shuffles closer, his movements deliberate yet gentle, as though he’s afraid I might break. He eases into the bed beside me, our bodies naturally gravitating towards each other. There’s a subtle, unspoken language in the way we fit together, an effortless dance of limbs finding their perfect place.

As he envelops me in his embrace, I'm cocooned in a warmth that transcends the physical. His arms, a fortress of safety, draw me closer, and I instinctively respond, seeking solace in the proximity of his comforting presence. The faint scent of freshly baked bread still lingers on his skin, a familiar fragrance that intertwines with the essence of safety and home. His breath, a gentle rhythm against my hair, mirrors the steadiness of his heartbeat, both a symphony of reassurance.

In this shared intimacy, I'm reminded of the depth of emotions I harbour for Peeta. The way his mere presence can quell the tempest raging within me reignites a myriad of feelings—gratitude, affection, and a love that had never truly faded, only lay dormant beneath the surface. As we squeeze closer together, his closeness sparks a familiar warmth within me, reigniting a flame that had never truly extinguished. The subtle brush of his skin against mine, the synchronised rise and fall of our breaths, kindles a fire of emotion—a reminder of the bond we share, resilient in the face of trials and nightmares.

Peeta's face, bathed in the soft glow of the room, holds an ethereal quality, a blend of concern and tender reassurance. Without conscious thought, I find myself gently pulling back, yearning to see the familiar contours of his features—the sincerity in his eyes and that gentle curve of his lips. 

As I meet his gaze, his eyes, a reflection of concern and unwavering support, seem to hold an unspoken understanding. There's a magnetic pull drawing me to him, an inexplicable need to bridge the gap between us, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath my touch. 

My hand rises, guided by an instinct I can't fully comprehend, and caresses the softness of his cheek. His skin is warm beneath my fingertips, a canvas that has weathered its own storms, yet bears a resilience that captivates me. The gentle brush of my thumb over his bottom lip elicits a hitch in his breath, a subtle reaction that sends a shiver through me, awakening a stirring within. Something stirs deep within my chest at the vulnerable tenderness reflected in his eyes. His breath, caught in a moment of anticipation, hangs between us, charged with unspoken emotions. The way his gaze softens, the way his breath hitches at my touch—it's as if the connection between us hums with an unspoken language, a dance of emotions that transcends words.

In the delicate interlude between us, a silent understanding blossoms, an unspoken dialogue that resonates deeper than words could convey. The air crackles with anticipation, a palpable tension that hangs between our shared gaze and the tender brush of my thumb against his lips. 

Without warning, Peeta leans in, a gentle yet decisive movement that bridges the last remaining space between us. His lips meet mine in a soft, tender kiss—a gesture brimming with a depth of emotion that transcends the physical realm. It’s a caress, a whisper of reassurance, and an affirmation of something profound that stirs between us. The touch of his lips against mine is a gentle awakening, a surge of emotions that floods my senses. His kiss feels like a delicate embrace, a promise of unwavering support and affection. It's a tender affirmation that I am something valuable, something to be cherished and loved, sparking a warmth that radiates from the depths of my being. 

His hands find their place with a tender certainty, one cradling the curve of my cheek with a tenderness that belies the rough calluses and strength beneath. The other settles at the small of my back, a grounding touch that speaks volumes of protection and stability. Despite the softness of his touch, there's a subtle roughness to his hands, a testament to the hardships endured—a reminder of his resilience and determination. 

As our kiss lingers, the warmth of his touch and the gentle pressure of his lips convey a myriad of unspoken sentiments. It's an embrace of shared solace, an unspoken promise of standing together amidst the turmoil. In this intimate connection, I feel not just desired but truly seen—a profound validation that ignites a longing for more, a yearning to deepen this unspoken bond that seems to resonate within every fibre of our beings. \

As our kiss softens into a tender embrace, Peeta draws me closer, enveloping me in the warmth of his arms. I lean into the comforting stronghold of his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my cheek—a rhythmic reassurance that anchors me in the present moment.

He presses a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead, a gentle caress that speeds volumes of his unwavering care and affection. It's a silent vow etched in that tender gesture—a promise of steadfast support and enduring presence in the face of whatever challenges lie ahead. With a whisper barely audible, he reassures me, "I'll always be here, for you." His words carry the weight of a solemn pledge, resonating with a depth of sincerity that brings solace to the uncertainties that once lingered. 

In the cocoon of his embrace, I find a sanctuary, a haven where vulnerabilities are embraced and fears are gently soothed. The reassurance in his words echoes a profound truth—a comforting reminder that amidst the chaos of our world, I have found a sanctuary in his unwavering presence, a safe harbour in the tempest.

Peeta's promise lingers in the air, a beacon of unwavering support that alleviates the shadows of doubt. In this tender moment, wrapped in the shelter of his arms, I feel a renewed sense of strength and an unspoken resolve to face whatever trials await—knowing that his steadfast devotion will always be a guiding light through the darkest of times.

The Hunger Games Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

#hunger games #the hunger games #catching fire #the mockingjay #Peeta Mellark #Peeta Mellark x reader #Peeta Mellark x you #Peeta Mellark x y/n #Peeta Mellark fluff #Peeta Mellark smut #Peeta Mellark angst #Peeta Mellark hunger games #peeta x reader #Peeta x you #Peeta x y/n #Peeta smut #Peeta fluff #Peeta angst #josh hutcherson

[miguelswifey04]

Silly request but I can’t get it out of my head because sunshine sweetheart makes me so happy ☺️🥰

What if she just wants to make him feel good and he ends up being at her mercy without her intending it. Like she just wanted to give him some stress relief after a long day and he just ends up begging and pleading for her touch. Like she’s not intentionally trying to be dominant but he’s just so head over heels for her that he lets her have control for once 🫣🥰

we love submissive men in here 😫🩷

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

making miguel putty and kissing the floor you walk on was never hard…you always managed to break him so easily but he usually never wants to admit it. “migs, honey, please let me help you relax.” you pleaded as you pulled him into bed with you. being the obedient man that he was just for you he followed your orders climbing onto bed with you. he gently laid his head onto your plush breasts as his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“yes, my love.” as you take the reins, miguel’s usual composed demeanor begins to crumble, replaced by a raw vulnerability and a desperate desire for your touch. his defenses melt away as he yearns for your attention and guidance. it is an uncharted territory for miguel, but his unwavering trust in you allows him to embrace this new dynamic.

with a mix of anticipation and nervousness, miguel lets out a breathy sigh as you seize control, your touch and actions sending shivers down his spine. as your hands explore his body, a cascade of sensations overwhelms him, amplifying the connection between you both.

“please, corazón, go lower. por favor…” at this point he submitted under your control. he loved it whenever you took control which was rare at times but when it was the right moment it changed everything for the both of you. you teasingly traced his muscular abs while you left hot wet kisses on his abs.

once you went lower to play with the hemlines of his boxer his breath hitches, his heart racing, as he becomes increasingly immersed in the pleasure you evoke. when you did him the favor of taking off his boxers, you saw the way his big cock slapped against his v-line. you couldn’t help but bite you lip as you saw his happy trail. a symphony of moans and gasps escapes his lips, each sound punctuating the rise and fall of his pleasure. miguel’s body, attuned to your every touch, as you pump his cock and swirl your tongue around his tip—his cock excessively dripping with precum. he reacts with an intensity fueled by the trust and adoration he feels for you. he moans and trembles when he feels you teasingly lick his tip. he was very sensitive and you knew that so you took note to continue licking on his tip even blowing cool air on it which made him whimper to the cool sensations. “oh god—“ he groaned as you fully took his cock in your mouth as you pump your hands around the base of his cock while your mouth did its magic. miguel’s legs trembled while he unclenched and clench the sheets of the bed.

miguel was close. you could feel the way his cock execcibely twitched in your mouth and hands so you pulled away with a smirk. miguel was frustrating even desperate as he whined out, “please cariño, i need to cum—”

“shhh, you’re not gonna cry. i’ll let you cum but be good for me, okay baby? you cooed in his ear and giggled in the way he whined for you to let him cum. you went on top as you took off your top and panties. you straddled his hips as you positioned his cock on your entrance and sank slowly—your teasing was so agonizing miguel didn’t know whether to beg or cry on the spot. you relished in the way you completely made him putty and a mess. you were ecstatic and felt powerful that you were able to make miguel a whiny little mess. his pleas and desperate requests for more intermingle with the sound of your commanding voice, creating a harmonious melody of desire and control. miguel’s surrender to your touch becomes a testament to the depth of his affection, his devotion for you providing a canvas upon which you weave your desires. as you bounced up and down on his cock his hands flew onto your hips as he shut his eyes, moaning to the feeling of your wet pussy hugging his cock so lovingly. you could feel the way his cock flexed against your g-spot which made you moan out loud.

you angled yourself so you could support your hands onto his chest as you bounced on his cock at an ungodly speed. his body arches and trembles beneath your skillful touch, completely at your mercy. the intensity of his arousal fuels a simultaneous acknowledgment of his vulnerability, a heady mix of pleasure and trust that leaves him breathless and craving more. “oh my god—i’m gonna cum…in you…please, can i cum inside of you?”

“yes baby you can.” intensifying the sensations, your control becomes a conduit for his ecstasy, his surrender complete as he gives himself over to your capable hands. you reach your orgasm first then his followed suit as he filled you up with his hot cum, coming in full ropes. he came so much that it leaked out off your puffy and swollen pussy. you always took care of him and helped him relax as you massaged his body, putting him into a deep sleep. miguel was completely satisfied and slept peacefully in your arms as he subconsciously snuggled against your smaller frame.

———

a/n: do y’all think he’d be like “i’ll be your good boy,” type of guy?? 🤸🏽‍♀️

#spiderman atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv x reader #miguel spiderman #spider person #miguel o’hara x y/n #spidersona #ao3 works #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #🌱 lin writes

[cissyenthusiast010155]

The First Corruption pt. 2 ~Lucifer Morningstar (sandman) xFem Eve!reader

Eve/You finally meet Lucifer again in their kingdom of hell once you die. And Lucifer has no plans of ever letting you go.

Link to Part 1

Mommy…Master List

Requests & Prompt List

Warnings: NSFW, fluff, angst, implied edging, begging, praise kink, implied smut, references to previous smut, pet names, lust, etc…

Enjoy (:

You had waited for this day. The day you died. Ever since that day in the garden when they opened your eyes. Every day since then you had longed to see them again. They said they would see you again, and you believed them. And so finally the day came.

Your death. You embraced her guidance willingly, letting her lead you to your beloved. Death had dropped you at Hell’s gates, where a demon took one look at you and sneered. The demon beckoned you to follow which you did. You walked for miles through their kingdom. After what seemed like days, you reached a grand palace.

“You're lucky they like you.” sneered the demon, having stopped at the gate of the palace, “If it were up to me, you’d be tortured for eternity.”

You gulped. Pressing your hands to the doors, you pushed them open. You walked through the magnificence of Hell’s Palace. You turned a corner, and a winged figure caught your eye.

The very same winged figure who had taken you in the garden many many years ago. You gasped at the sight of them, draped in a silky, red robe. Your eyes met theirs. A faint smirk lined their lips. You smiled from cheek to cheek, and hastened up to the steps to your beloved. Before they could stop you, you were enveloped in the curves of their body which you had so desperately missed all those lonely years.

“Hello little one...” Lucifer cooed.

“I'm not that little anymore...” you mumbled into their robe, refusing to let go, making them chuckle.

“Are you sure about that...?”

You looked up at your beloved with confusion. Lucifer leaned down to your ear, making you shiver and get that same feeling you had all those years ago in the garden...

“Look in the mirror, love.” they purred.

At their words, a mirror instantly appeared in front of you both. You gazed into it and gasped. You looked exactly as you did the day they took you. Even your clothing had been discarded. At the realization of your nudity, you immediately attempted to cover yourself. But Lucifer was quicker than you, immediately swatting your hands away from your body.

“Nu uh, little one.” They tutted, keeping a hold of your hands, “Don’t hide your beautiful body from me.”

You whimpered in response. The feeling in your body was growing more painful and urgent. You squirmed under their hold, becoming more needy by the second. Lucifer chuckled at the sight of you.

“What do you want, love...Hmmm?” they purred into your ear, putting you into a trance from just their words.

You whimpered, bucking your hips into nothing.

“Use your words, little one...” they taunted, moving one hand tauntingly around your neck.

“I want you...” you pled, "I want you to show me more... I want to know more...”

Lucifer smirked and hummed in delight at your pleas.

“Now that’s something I can arrange...” they purred, suddenly letting you go.

You whined at the loss of contact but went silent as Lucifer quirked an eyebrow at your complaining. They leaned down and cupped your face, and whispered, “We’ll have plenty of time for that, I’m just glad to have you home.”

“Home?”

“Hmmmm...” Lucifer confirmed with a hum, “Forever.”

Your cheeks rushed red with blood. You were blushing furiously. Lucifer chuckled at the sight.

“C’mon, my Queen.”

You obediently followed your beloved. Hell, You would follow them to the end of the world.

Part 3 with smut…? 😏

#lucifer morningstar (the sandman) #lucifer sandman smut #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer sandman #the sandman lucifer x reader #the sandman lucifer #lucifer morningstar the sandman #lucifer morningstar smut #sandman lucifer x reader #lucifer #the sandman #the sandman fanfic #the sandman smut #mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? #lgbtq #lgbtqia

[4asura]

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈. ✧ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒

— ★ asura kishin x afab!reader ⋆⋆⋆ smut. 18+ reader. asura is obsessed with your body after teaching him how to make you moan ········· › praise. dirty talk. fingering. joi?

With blurry eyes fluttering open, you gradually became aware of Asura nestled in your embrace, his mouth attached to your neck. A deep purr rumbled from his throat as he continued to tenderly suckle on your skin, his tongue delicately tracing the contours of your pulse.

"Asura…" you murmured sleepily as a small warning, knowing how he'd get himself so worked up over the little moans and breaths you'd let out when bitten.

The warmth of his chest pressed against yours sent shivers coursing down your spine, his familiar scent intoxicating your senses.

"Shhh…" the demon king hissed at you softly, his breath hot against your skin while his slender hands moved to firmly grasp the back of your thighs, his fingers intermittently curling and pressing into the soft flesh. The grip tightens with each passing moment, the kishin's purring intensifying as the pace of his tongue grew hungry for something more.

"Forget everything else and simply focus on the way I make you feel," he murmured back, his teeth sinking in with a controlled force. Waves of pleasure surged through your body in response, and you willingly surrendered to his touch.

As you softly moaned, your breath hitched with anticipation that only served to fuel his desires. His gaze locked with the skin beneath your loose fitted clothes, his chest heaving up and down with each breath as he quietly fantasized about making you scream while he marked your body.

"You know," you breathed, voice a gentle caress amidst his violent mind, "there are other ways to make me moan..." Your words carried a tender yet uncertain tone, unsure if Asura comprehended intimacy after enduring 800 years of imprisonment.

He growls at the thought, his breath vibrating against your skin, causing you to tremble. His teeth grazed your sensitive skin, prompting a soft gasp as you squirmed against him.

Your hands wrap around his trembling frame, leaving a gentle kiss to his tangled hair. He grunts at the sudden sign of affection and presses his fangs deeper, his body instinctively shifting closer to yours.

"I can show you how," you continued, words carrying the promise of pleasure.

"Mmm," Asura murmured in response, his body responding with a subtle twitch to your delicate touches. Despite the kishin's efforts to restrain himself, his arousal betrayed him, hips yearning to move urgently against you.

"Show me now…" he pleaded, voice laced with desperation, nails digging into your thighs in a silent plea for your guidance.

Asura groans loudly when you shift your body away to lay on your back. Revealing pools of desire as your thighs parted, inviting him to the tender flesh between.

Where is she going? Is she happier when I'm not touching her?

Snapping him out of his inner turmoil, "Right here..." You continue speaking in that same quiet voice you always used, as if trying to soothe a distressed puppy.

He pulls you towards him, craving your closeness at all times to silence the constant madness in the demon's head.

As he gazed below, he was met with the sight of your folds glistening, drooling onto the bedsheets below. Each movement, each breath, seemed to radiate with an unspoken invitation, drawing him deeper into this new craving for more. He wanted to question why his abs kept clenching as his pants felt tighter around his twitching cock, but refrained from interrupting.

"Yes, I see," the demon king replied, throbbing as he took in the sight. His grip loosened as his mind was overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of lust coursing through him.

Unable to resist any longer, he felt himself growing harder with each passing second, his three, red eyes focusing on you, captivated by the raw beauty laid bare before him.

Slowly removing one of his hands off your legs, you guide it and allow him to explore the warmth of your core. “Right here,” you encourage to press lightly on your sensitive clit with a quiet hum of relief.

"Mmm... Yes," Asura whispered, faithfully following your instructions to the letter. With a touch that was both gentle and playful, he teased, tapping the small nub repeatedly while you whimpered in protest. Simultaneously, Asura's other hand encircled your waist, his fingers gliding along your back as he matched your rhythm.

He circled the tip of his finger eliciting soft moans, adding a little more pressure when your hand pressed on his.

He moves lower to spread your folds, plunging deeper into the small hole that leaked, getting lost in it's gummy insides. He mimics your surprised grasp, his eyebrows furrowing as he only grows more determined to force those noises from your pretty lips.

He only assumed he did something right in response to your sighs of pleasure, angling his fingers to slowly pump in and out.

"Right... here?" he muttered, breath growing rapid as he only craves more of the mystery liquid that coated his tattooed fingers.

The demon had no intention of stopping now.

His efforts yielded results as you, eyes closed, released a long, satisfied moan, thoroughly enjoying his hands. You purr with pleasure, and he savored every sound.

Excitement surged within him, the pressure building to an uncontrollable peak. "Keep moaning," Asura's voice rasped as he increased the pace of his movements.

He felt your body respond as his rhythm intensified, each movement of his digits causing you to clench around him. "Fuck," he murmured. His hips twitching and stuttering as his hands drew squelching noises from your soaking cunt. "It's- it keeps pulling me in."

Asura leans back while the ends of his scarfs extend, using them to force you still below him, wrapping around your thighs to keep them spread open. His third eye twitches as you finally come undone, fixated on how your body convulses with overwhelming pleasure.

His head tilts to the side curiously as he studies your open mouthed expression, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let out whorish moans for the kishin.

He didn't even notice the intensity of his own orgasm as he reveled in the squelching noises of your tight pussy sucking the digits in deeper, your walls growing impossibly tighter and forcing his fingers to pause.

Asura's eyes glazed over to your blissed out expression, noting the way your breasts moved when your chest heaved up and down with each deep breath. "Again?" he asked in a quiet tone, the wraps around your thighs tightening slightly.

#4asura #soul eater #soul eater x reader #soul eater smut #asura soul eater #asura #asura x reader #asura smut #anime x reader #︶꒷꒦︶ー writing #anime smut #kishin asura

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

I'll Come Back

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, f!reader

Word Count: 1796

TW: Angst, Fluff, Kissing, Presumed Dead (but not really), Grief, Reunion

Spoilers for Top Gun: Maverick

Top Gun Masterlist

You lingered outside the briefing room, waiting for the news you were certain was about to come but yet you prayed didn’t. As much as you knew Rooster wanted on this mission, the thought of him going made your stomach roll and your heart clench. Though you only worked the coms in the control room for the mission and had no clearance for the details of the current assignment, you had managed to sneak a look at the mission plan. It was a near-suicide mission, and everyone knew it. And yet, you knew better than to ask Rooster to step down. It was missions like this that he trained for his entire career, and he wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to fly it. Even for you.

Suddenly, the door to the briefing room flew open and Hangman stormed out. The second you saw his face, all of your fears were confirmed. The only reason he would look that pissed off is if he hadn’t been selected for the team, which meant…..

Rooster walked out of the room, and he stumbled to a stop when he saw you standing there. Without saying a word, he opened his arms and you were instantly in them, wrapped in his tight embrace for what might be the last time. Burying your face into his chest, you said in a muffled voice, “I told you he would pick you. Maverick knows talent when he sees it.”

Rooster sighed as he rested his chin on the top of your head. “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly objective when it comes to my skills.”

You chuckled softly but the sound quickly shifted into a sob. You tried to bite your lip to keep your tears from falling, but it was useless. Rooster placed his hands on your arms and pushed you away from him, getting a good look at your face. “Aw, baby, please don’t. If you cry, I’ll cry and that won’t be good.”

“I’m sorry, I just- I need you to come back. Okay? I can’t…. I can’t sit there and watch you go down.” The tears were flowing more steadily down your face and Rooster reached up and wiped them away with his thumb.

“I’ll come back. I promise.”

You shook your head. “You can’t promise that. There are so many things that could go wrong, so many chances to fail. You know I believe in you, baby, but this….. this isn’t something that just relies on skill. If even the slightest bit of information is incorrect, if they miscalculated anything, this could all go wrong, and I can’t-”

“It’s not going to. I will come back. I promise you. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He trailed his hand down your cheek before lifting your chin with his thumb. His lips brushed against yours, gentle and soft, and as much as his words were saying differently, you knew this was him telling you goodbye.

You rested your head on his chest once more and the two of you held each other in silence for as long as time permitted.

To everyone’s astonishment, the mission had been accomplished perfectly even with Dagger 4’s laser malfunction. You smiled broadly as pride swelled in your chest as Rooster managed to hit his target without the guidance. However, that feeling quickly faded as he crested over the top of Coffin Corner and into range of the SAMs. As missiles filled the radar screens in the control room, you gripped the arms of your seat so tightly, that the muscles in your arms began to tremble. And it felt as if your heart stopped when Rooster’s desperate cries filled your headset as he informed everyone he was out of flares. But Maverick had flown in at the last second and saved him. And as much as it pained you to see Maverick go down, at least Rooster was safe.

Until he wasn’t. Despite his orders, despite your desperate pleas to him over the coms, Rooster went back for Maverick. And it was then that your world exploded as you watched a SAM slam into his plane before his signal blinked out.

Frantically reaching for your controls, you said, “Dagger 2, come in….” Silence. “Dagger 2, I repeat, co-come in.” Still no response. You jumped to your feet as you slammed the com button and screamed, “Rooster! Answer me!”

The entire control room was deathly silent as you felt every eye on you. But you didn’t care. You just needed Rooster to answer. But he never did.

You collapsed back into your seat in stunned silence, still unable to grasp the reality of what just happened. From somewhere behind you, you heard Vice Admiral Simpson mutter, “Get her out of here” before you felt a pair of hands gently rest on your shoulders and help usher you out into the hall.

It wasn’t until the door to the control room closed that you collapsed to the floor in a heap of sobs and tears. Rooster couldn’t be gone. He just couldn’t. He promised you he would come back. He promised he wouldn’t make you go through watching his readings blink off of your screen, wouldn’t make you watch him go down. Yet, he had gone back for Maverick and made you watch him die.

Another sob rattled through your chest and you felt the hands from before rest softly on your shoulders. Looking up, you saw Hondo staring back at you, a tear running down his face as well. You nodded at him, a sign of thanks and understanding. While you had just lost the man you loved, Hondo had just lost a dear friend who he had served with for many years. The pains you were feeling were different yet not really so dissimilar. And as terrible as it was to think, at least you weren’t alone in your grief.

As he lowered himself to the floor, you slid over and rested your head on his shoulder. Neither one of you said a word. You both just sat silently as you tried to come to terms with what had happened and what you had lost.

After what seemed like an eternity, you managed to stop crying and pull yourself together for the most part. The pain was still there, but the initial shock had started to fade a little, leaving a deep emptiness instead. But you knew that feeling would take much longer to fade.

Just as you were about to ask Hondo how he was doing, the door to the control room flew open and Rear Admiral Bates stuck his head out. “You two need to get back in here now.”

Through your puffy, bloodshot eyes, you looked up at him in confusion. “Sir?”

“We’re receiving a signal from Rooster’s tracker.” Your eyes went wide as your breath caught in your chest. “He’s currently in the air in what appears to be in a F-14 Tomcat headed this way.”

“Maverick.” Hondo chuckled in relief.

Your head swam as you tried to grasp the miracle that was being presented to you. “Are you saying they’re both okay and on their way back?”

Warlock shook his head. “We can’t say for certain. We haven’t been able to hail their craft and…. there appears to be two, possibly three Su-57s closing in on their position.”

Suddenly, the entire ship shook as a roar of a plane taking off sounded from the deck above. Exchanging a confused look with Hondo and Warlock, you all hurried back into the control room where chaos was currently ensuing.

As you looked around, you heard someone saying, “Dagger Spare, you were not cleared for takeoff. I repeat you were not cleared for takeoff.”

A smile spread across your face as you realized what just happened and a voice came in over the comms. “This is Dagger Spare and with all due respect, you’ve been denying my requests to go help my team all mission and I won’t let my fellow pilots die because you refuse to give me authorization. So, I’m willing to take whatever reprimands are warranted when I get back, but I won’t be coming back alone.”

Hangman. You made a note to never bad-mouth the pilot again. He had just risked his career to save Maverick and Rooster and for that, you would never be able to repay him.

There was a pause as the room held its breath, waiting to see what Hangman’s fate would be. Finally, Vice Admiral Simpson sighed and said, “Dagger Spare, you are cleared for the mission. Go bring our men home.”

The room erupted in a cheer as Hangman said, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Hope soared through you for the first time since you found out Rooster was going on the mission. With Hangman and Maverick (two of the only men in active duty ever to have a confirmed kill in aerial combat) by his side, you knew they would make it.

Rooster was coming home.

They wouldn’t let anyone from the control room up on deck until all aircrafts had safely landed (safety protocols or some bullshit). But the second you received the all-clear, you burst through the door. The deck was swarming with people trying to congratulate the returning pilots, so you had to shove and elbow your way through. Finally, as you approached the spot where the planes had come to a stop, you could see Rooster and Maverick embracing. It looked like an emotional and tender moment that under any other circumstance would have warmed your heart to see the two men seemingly settling their differences. But after what you just went through, you were willing to spoil their moment.

“Rooster!” you screamed.

Immediately, he dropped his hold on Maverick and pivoted towards the sound of your voice. Without saying a word, he opened his arms and you were instantly in them, wrapped in his tight embrace after fearing you never would be again. As you buried your face into his chest, he whispered, “I promised you I’d be back.”

His voice was choked and strained and when you pulled back to look at him, you saw tears shimmering in his eyes. Quickly reaching up to wipe them away, you said, “Oh, baby. Come on. If you cry, I’ll cry, remember? And no one wants to see that.”

“I don’t care, let them see.” Rooster smashed his lips into yours and you quickly returned his embrace with just as much love and devotion. Soon, you could taste the salty sting of tears on your lips and you weren’t sure if they were yours or his but you didn’t mind. Because Rooster was alive and safe and back in your arms. And that was all that mattered. 

Taglist: @valoraxx

#sfw repost #fic #top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #f!reader #miles teller #top gun maverick spoilers #fluff #angst #grief tw #presumed dead tw

[100beesinatrenchcoat]

Good Omens/Bg3 crossover

Okay so I will eventually make art of this, but you gotta wait longer for that because im picky about the art I post HOWEVER COMMA I will supply you with my ideas for right now. Also! Feel free to send any asks about this little au im making, I'll totally answer any questions about it. Lets start with the stars of the show. GALE/AZIRAPHALE (who I will only be referring to as Gale for sake of ease right now. Maybe I'll think of something more interesting later) While Mystra is not the only god in this universe, she is the one that is most important to gale, as he is one of her personal angels. Something of a celestial being in official dnd terms. This is the after life he was given after a lifetime spent being a priest in Mystra's church. It is Gale's soul mission to do whatever he can to please his goddess, as she has promised him great things (the specifics of which are unknown to Gale) if he did her work down in the mortal plane of Faerun. This mostly involves solving magical imbalances and destroying forms of magic that are separate from Mystra's weave (the kind of things bg3 gale did as Mystra's chosen) The orb, in this case, Isn't a product of Gale's folly but rather a sort of shock collar that Mystra placed onto him. Most of the time, it lies dormant. An ever lasting reminder of Mystra's eyes on him. Should he ever deny Mystra's will, or fail to complete a task to the best of his abilities, the orb will cause an excruciating pain for him, that cannot be quelled unless he consumes artifacts or objects threaded with the weave. Reminding him that he is Mystra's pawn, she is the reason he exists as the celestial being he is now, rather than being cast down to the hells after death. ASTARION/CROWLEY (same thing about the name as with Gale.. I'll be more creative later) Astarion is a strange mixture of undead and infernal, caused by contract. While once a wealthy magistrate high elf, then turned vampire, he spent his time as a spawn praying to any god in the pantheon he thought might hear his plea for freedom or guidance, even the goblin god Maglubiyet, at some point. However not a single one heard his plea. His undead status enough to cut him off from the celestial plane, apparently. But not enough to cut him off from the hells. One night, when sneaking off under Cazador Szarr's orders, he was approached by a demon in disguise in the alleyways of baldurs gate. The demon had saw his suffering as Cazador's spawn, and his potential for lethality and general mischief, and offered a deal. He swore to Astarion that he would protect him from Cazador, and give him the ability to walk in the sun, if Astarion agreed to cause general havoc across Faerun and occasionally act as assassin for other clients of the infernal. Astarion, desperate for freedom from his vampiric master, reluctantly agreed. Most of the mischief he causes throughout Faerun are either direct "fuck you's" to the gods and the things they stand for, as the infernal generally have a good deal of beef with the celestial. (Which Astarion doesn't mind doing, as every god in the pantheon ignored his desperate cries for help,) and simple assassinations according to his infernal patron, deal breakers and pact defying warlocks mostly.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate three #bg3 gale #gale bg3 #baldurs gate gale #gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion #good omens #crowley #crowley good omens #aziraphale #aziracrow #aziraphale good omens #bloodweave #ineffable husbands #crossover #alternate universe

[fuwahua]

For the 3 sentence thing ^^

Lee Tighnari with Ler cyno, lower back right above his tail (ticklish backs need more attention I think ^^)

No pressure to write anything tho, have a nice day/night/morning✨

SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT!!!! ヽ(；▽；)ノ Thank you so much for requesting cnnri I love them fluffy bois very much (and your art of said fluffy bois too <3) I hope you enjoy some Cynonari banter !!

WC: 1.2k

Summary: Tighnari's agreed to help out with some commissions in the desert. Cyno's just being a perfectly concerned friend helping convince him to... reconsider.

“Nahahahaha! CyNOahahaha! Stop!”

“Cyno? Don’t you mean Cy-yes?”

“NO!”

Tighnari gasped out before dissolving back into giggles. Cyno’s hands continued to skitter over Tighnari’s sides, smirking when Tighnari belted out another plea of laughter in response. “Wrong answer again, Nari~ Come on, you know what you need to say to make it stop.”

Tighnari’s ears trembled as he shook his head, flailing in his attempt to push Cyno’s wandering hands away. “I-I told ehehehehe you I CahaahAn’T!”

“If you can’t handle this, how will you be welcomed into the desert?”

“THAHAHAHAT DOESNT MAKEHEHEHE SENSE!”

Oh Archons, what a stupid thing to fight over. Tighnari kicked his feet out as he tried to turn over from Cyno, squirming with giggles when those hands wandered down from his sides to his stomach. His jacket had ridden up in their sparring, leaving his bare flesh unprotected, and he shrieked out a protest as Cyno took advantage.

All this for a commission. It wasn’t even his plan! Traveler needed some guidance deeper into Sumeru regarding an Adventurer’s task and asked him for aid—a completely, utterly normal request between them (and, he’d like to add, something Cyno also asked him for all the time). Admittedly he had accepted before even considering the details, at the time more than a little desperate to get away from the strange reporters turning up in Gandharva Ville digging for information about the former sages, and failed to consider the potential heat risks of taking on two separate desert commissions.

Even so. “AhaHAHA Thiiis is ehehHEHEHE OHOhoveheherboard!”

“Oh, you’ve gone overboard? Well, let me get you back on board!” 

Tighnari’s head shakes, arching his back and trying to headbutt Cyno when his fingers dig into his navel. He shouts with laughter, arms quickly huddling together to try to pry those stupid, betraying hands out, protesting all the while.

“I’m telling you, dangerous eremites wander the sand anytime! You’ve got to be prepared, is all.”

“GehehEHEHEHET OFF!”

Cyno yelps as Tighnari manages to shove an elbow beneath him, thrusting upwards with a rush of strength. It’s not enough to dislodge his friend entirely, but there is just barely enough room between them that Tighnari can turn himself around, protecting his stomach.

“T-thehehere! See!” He pants, half-turning to glare at Cyno. “Even compromised, I can still defend myself. You forget that I’m a ranger.”

“And you forget what happened in the Interdarshan Championship,” Cyno tuts. They stare at each other, locked into their own choices partly out of compassion, partly stubbornness, before Cyno smiles. “Fine, fine. I’ll let you go to the desert.”

“I wasn’t waiting for your permission…”

Even though he says that, Tighnari waits for Cyno to get off him. Except, Cyno’s thighs stay tight around his hips, and though he lightly wriggles to remind the other, he doesn’t move at all.

“Uh, Cyno?”

“Yes?”

“I thought you were letting me go,” Tighnari deadpans, sighing. “So, get off me.”

“Welllll… I am going to let you go to the desert. But what kind of friend would I be if I let you go without some training?”

“Cyno, no, I’ve had enou–gehehehhee! CynoAHAHAHA!”

Cyno’s whisper is devious. “Training part one: what should you do if an eremite grabbed your tail from behind juuust like this?”

“THAHAHA’TS CHEEAHAHAHATING!”

“Cheating! How dare you—I’m a TCG man of my word! Come now, you wouldn’t really accuse the Mahamatra of cheating, would you?”

Tighnari shrieks out a wordless reply, hands thumping against the floor as his body is flooded with ticklish sensations originating from Cyno’s nails right on the jut of his tail. He thought he’d been clever by turning around to protect his bare stomach, but the sensation of Cyno’s scribbling hands just over that patch of skin on his lower back on top of the beginnings of his tail were going to drive him insane.

It certainly didn’t help that practically no one ever tickled him on the back, especially not near his tail. The entire ranger unit knew that the area was a no-go in general and any and all attempts to comb their fingers through his fur was a one-way ticket to getting punched. What they didn’t know was that part of the reason Tighnari refused to let anyone near his tail was because he knew just how ticklish he was there and wanted to avoid any accidents at all costs.

Something, of course, Cyno knew all too well.

“Hmm, I don’t know about letting you go to the desert after all~ training doesn’t seem to be going too well?”

“ENOUGHAAHAAAHAHA!”

Archons, he was going to kill Cyno after this. Tighnari’s tail swishes from side to side but it’s impossible to avoid the way Cyno pinches the back of his flesh and spreads out his fingers, making him cackle. Tighnari’s legs kick out, desperate, but besides a few “whoa!” from Cyno, he doesn’t budge.

“I know!” Cyno gasps, leaning over and dragging his nails up up and then down in a long, lazy stroke that has Tighnari arching his back with wheezes, “what if I came with you?”

If he could, he’d smack Cyno helmet-up for putting him through this entire ordeal just to ask to accompany them. Hell, the Traveler would probably jump for joy to have another helper. He could have simply asked instead of tickling Tighnari to pieces.

“Well?”

“FihihiHIHIHAHAHANE! YOU CAHAHAHN COMEHEHEH!”

Tighnari slumps over as Cyno finally comes to a stop, hands moving against his back in slow, soothing circles instead. It still tingles, light ghost tickles that keeps him giggly, but the fau massage does help chasing the last of the sensation away until Cyno hops off him, allowing him to roll over and curl his tail protectively over his back.

“I.. hate you…”

“Aww, you don’t mean that.” Cyno scoots over him, smirk wide on his face. “Come on, it’ll be fun! Two of us S-tier members, we’ll turn the desert into just desserts! Get it?”

Tighnari groans. “Cyno…”

“Desert! Desserts! Two S-tier members.”

 Actually, killing Cyno would be letting him off easy. Tighnari glares at the other, tail swishing dangerously. “Cyno.”

“Okay, just think about it, the only difference between a sand dune and a plate of cavities is the addition of an extra s, so adding me, an S-tier member, to you, another S-tier member, is—”

“Yeah, yeah, real funny…”

“Right?! Hm? That’s weird… you never like my puns unless… Eek! N-nahahahri, nooo!”

“You’re coming with us to the desert right? What would you do if those evil eremites found out just how sensitive your ribs are…”

“WahahAHAHHAIT! MERCHIIHIHIHI!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you get those just desserts.”

#cynonari #tighnari #cyno #genshin impact #tickling #my fic

[sunnydayjackass]

sunny day jack face riding hcs?

This came out as reader being afab if that's okay? If not, feel free to resubmit with specifics and I'll do a whole nother batch. NSFW under the cut

When I tell you this man's face is goddamn pleasure throne, I fucking mean it. Jack eats you out like a man starved but when you're perched on your face? You're in for a goddamn ride.

If you're at all hesitant, the worry of suffocating him? Nah baby, if he could die again-this would be the best way to go out-crushed between your thighs with the taste of your cum glossed over his lips and nectar on his tongue

You're in the midst of it, body ablaze under Jack's touch, needy and keening for pleasure and release. And Jack will give it to you-in time. He's not much one for quickies, preferring to take his time with you, prepping you, teasing you, edging you...he adores the symphony of sinful sounds he's able to pull from your lips

When Jack rolls over onto his back, you immediately shoot back up to chase him, begging him not to tease you like this. Large hands smooth over your waist, giving you a gentle nudge and guidance, "I...want to taste you...like this." Carefully the pair of you maneuver with your knees on either side of his head and your hands clutching the headboard before gingerly lowering your dripping cunt to Jack's eager mouth.

He meets you halfway with an enthusiasm that sends jolts through you and has you anchoring your hips down as his nose brushes against your clit for a shockwave of pleasure to your core. An almost embarrassing cry leaves your throat and it spurns him further.

Should you try to lift yourself, Jack's grip remains firm on your waist or hips to keep you in place on his face. Once you start gyrating on him, eager for more of that miraculous tongue of his, Jack's hands will instead go to grope at your ass to coax those movements and push you closer to the end.

Jack alternates deftly between laving lovingly at your clit, suckling the swollen bud and delicately scraping his teeth against it, only to switch to tongue fucking you, eager to collect your sweet honey and prod at that certain bundle of nerves that has your thighs clenching around his head. The way he sees it, he isn't doing a good enough job until you're teary and fisting his hair, bucking against his face to chase release with your inhibitions blown away

He LOVES this view of you, absolutely fucking debauched and lost in pleasure and this position is another that lets him feel, observe, and taste your desperation, again though- he takes his time. Everytime he can tell you're close, the way your walls spasm and twitch around his tongue, how your thighs lock up around him, the sharp arch of your back or hunching over to press your weight onto his mouth for more friction...Jack will stop in favor to press kisses along your slick sticky thighs

"Mmmmnh...You're sweet as honey, Sunshine." "Look at you, (Name)...hngg...dripping...it feels good right? This is how much I love you~." "I could do this for hours...hah~ you're sweeter than syrup." "What do you want, Sunspot? Tell me...use me...I'm all yours. Always." And it's always in that soft low timbre that's so sultry it sends a shudder down your spine. But you have to answer if you want to claim your assigned seat again.

A beg, a plea, confirmation, and answer of these questions naturally will give you the relief you so crave, Jack voraciously lapping at your sopping sex, perhaps even daring to prod at you with his fingers, crooking them just so that you're fucking his face with reckless abandon at being so deliciously stimulated. Or he might reach to stroke his own cock, rock hard at being able to bring you to euphoria with his mouth alone- he has zero qualms with cumming in his hand while you use him to completion.

The cycle repeats until, like I said, your hands are fisted in his hair, a babbly lust laden mess in complete debauched disarray. Jack wants you needy and desperate for him, he just adores being needed by you, having you flushed and keening praise and his name from your lips as your pussy throbs and drools lewdly under the tracings and thrusting of his tongue and the suction of his shapely lips.

Cumming isn't the end for you, even as your body slackens and your knees and thighs relax around his skull. Jack's grip on you doesn't cease until he's tasted every last drop of your sweet essence no matter your whimpers and mewls of stimulation, it's another sight Jack wants tattooed into the folds of his brain. The beautiful way in which you come undone- how your head falls and your lips parted, the way your lashes flutter as your eyes threaten to roll back into your skull as your pussy quivers with the cresendo of your orgasm.

Even after, while you're whimpering and mewling from overstimulation- you're done when Jack is sated and you've been thoroughly cleaned by his tongue. Your body feels boneless and like jelly as Jack helps you back down to lay in bed. His lips and cheeks glossed over by your slick that he shamelessly collects with his digits as not to waste so much of a drop and god, if that doesn't send heat back down to your core as he moans around his own fingers.

Leaning down to press a kiss to you, murmuring how good you did, how divine you taste- you can taste yourself on his lips and you dont want to let go of him. The pair of you are in this greedy little cycle, both wanting more of each other until exhausted and spent. "Oh, Sunshine...if you wanted more, all you had to do was say so." Jack purrs against you lovingly.

Tomorrow you'll have to get an uber for work. But worth it.

#somethings wrong with sunny day jack #something's wrong with sunny day jack #theres something wrong with sunny time jack #there's something wrong with sunny day jack #tswwsdj #swwsdj #sunny day jack x reader #sdj x reader #sunny day jack #sdj

[tetralea]

I know you said alpha charles is your jam now but if you wanna try something a bit different, could i please have alpha max and omega charles with the prompt "“There’s so much cum, it’s leaking out of me.”" 🙏🏻

No worries anon, I’m still all for them in any set up hehe, it’s just until now I mostly wrote alpha!Max and omega!Charles, and wanted to put it out there that now I’m more than happy to do the opposite too, but this is still ok! :)

I have to make a shoutout here to @alestire, my baby, for giving me this idea. 💕

“Sweet, Jesus.” Charles cursed, fingers buried into the blonde hair, still messy, sweaty, smelling incredibly to him. His mate.

Max was holding him tight, one leg hoisted up onto the racks of the tire storage room, their racing suits hanging at their hips, fireproofs pushed up on their stomach, exposing some precious skin to scent and to touch, the bottoms pushed down just enough to make enough room. Room for Max to run his fingers trough Charles’ wetness, groaning before replacing his fingers with his cock. A dint whimper and a plea. “Alpha, I need you.”

They just finished a race, and they had only minutes from fulfilling their obligations and stepping out to the podium but first, there was something else they needed to tend to.

Charles was feral, he always was a few weeks before his heat, it wasn’t nothing new, and Max was more than happy to cater to it each time. But this day was a stretch. He already fucked Charles in the morning and not long before the race, but as soon as they got out of the car he could smell it, the unmistakable scent of his mate, aroused and slick.

He was no plan where to go other than away from the teams. They had ten minutes, but in the current state Charles was in, it was enough. He fucked his sweet, sweet omega, burying his cock till the bottom of his half swollen knot, rocking against the willing, eager omega. “So needy, aren’t you?” The dragged out, breathless whine was his only answer. “I know you want my knot, but this is all I can give you, schatje.” He explained, forcefully pressing his teeth to the sweaty fireproofs above their mating mark. The strong neck got even more exposed, when Charles threw his head back, a palm flying flat against his mouth to mute his high pitched whine. “I’ll fill you, I know you like that too, I’ll fill your pretty hole, but that has to do till the evening when we are back to the hotel, alright?” He slowed down, making sure Charles looked at him and understood. “I love you, so fucking much.” He blurted out, his hand being replaced by his lips, fingers digging into the clothes and some skin as he speeded up again, bringing both of them to their orgasm.

It lasted and he felt his cock twitch, spilling into Charles even seconds after he came, panting breathless, saliva soaking the red fireproofs in a round where he bit Charles before. His omega was pliant and clinging to him, purring loudly, something he always did after a good sex. Max kissed the top of his head, letting Charles inhale their mixed scents, knowing it will soothe him further. They’ll probably reek of sex after this, Charles’ scent marking his skin and his sticking to Charles’.

Pulling out, he tried to steady the brunette, and pulling his underwear back at the same time, groaning. He much liked to linger, feeling connected to his mate, filling him nicely until he fell asleep or his cock went soft, slipping out of the tight heat.

They dressed, a but clumsy, a bit hurried, Charles was still out of it a little, needing just a little guidance. “That’s it, looking good.” He smiled a pressed a kiss to the cupid bow lips. Charles giggled, following his mate out of the storage room.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later, they were standing behind the podium ready to be called, when he felt a little tug on his sleeve. “Max-,” Charles was red, matching his overall, legs crossed in a desperate attempt, the beautiful eyes looking up for a second in panic, he pursed his lips before continuing, “there is so much cum, it’s leaking out of me.” He whispered, careful for the others not to hear, looking embarrassed and turned on at the same time. “I can’t keep it inside, it’s soaking through my clothes.” The little whine and the image itself made Max’s spent cock jump in interest.

“Let it, my little omega,” a wicked, proud grin appeared on his lips. Filling Charles and having him marked by his cum on the podium, in front of millions, did something to him. “After this is done I’ll make sure to pump it back into you again, and out there I’ll just soak you with champagne so much no one will ever notice.” The murmur against Charles’ ear stopped when Max’s name was called. “It’s only fair after winning Austria, baby.”

#charles leclerc #lestappen #max verstappen #lestappen abo #smut #breeding kink prompts #dori unhinged

[idrawstuffsometimes]

Here’s my Idea for perimeter lore (I really like writing mythology, sue me)

It’s your classic tale of a minor deity becoming too prideful and facing the wrath of a more powerful council of gods-- in the case of the goat god, a tinkerer bent on finding the holes and faults of the world, the others have become sick of his bragging about his incredible strength and cleverness. He is given a trial to overcome in order to regain his place among the pantheon.

“Dig to the bottom of the world,” They instruct him. “When you return, you will be given your title again.”

So he digs. He uses his powerful hooves as shovels and his massive horns as picks. He digs until he reaches the bottom of the world. And he laughs.

He grins at the sky, waiting for the others to see him and return him to the heavens, but there are no wings coming to carry him, no flash of lightning. His smile vanishes as he remembers: he had to dig to the bottom of the world, and then make it back out.

His legs are too tired to take another step. His hooves are worn and cracked. His once beautiful horns have eroded. His green fur is matted with grey dust. He cannot make it out.

The gods have had him dig his own grave.

The story does not end here, however. A team of explorers, seeking a better life, had fallen into a nearby cave. Desperately lost, they had followed the sound of the goat god’s laughter, hoping to find the surface. Instead they find the pit, the bottom of the world, and a despairing god.

They send their strongest warrior, Corios, and their cleverest mind, Amelthene, to beg the god for assistance, hoping against hope for survival. Upon hearing their plea, the goat god smiles wickedly.

“I will die here,” he begins, “but your people will not. Your community will grow, your society will prosper, and you will have my guidance for all time. All I ask, is that one day, you will not merely rival the gods, you destroy them.”

Not left with much of an option, Amelthene and Corios agree. As a symbol of the promise, the goat god gives them each one of his own horns, Amalthene takes the right and Corios takes the left.

And thus begins the civilization.

So there are some other things- the goat god’s previous exploits that led to this, the later adventures of Amelthene and Corios, who end up being kind of demigods in their own right, the collapse of the civilization after falling victim to the same hubris as the goat god, etc, but that’s my main premise.

#docm77 #i have spent too long on this #perimeter lore #hermitcraft #hermitblr #worldbuilding #docm77 perimeter

[howfarethestars]

Do you ever think about how scared Thor was to lose Loki… He experimented Loki hating him and denouncing him as his brother, so soon after Loki had said 'never doubt that I love you', he saw Loki ignore his pleas and let go because Odin said no and Thor's brain chemistry was changed forever.

1 ) His response was 'We all did' when Loki asked him 'Did you miss me?'. The fact he didn't consider that Loki was particularly asking about him, he was desperate to make Loki believe that others care about him, that all missed him. It will convince Loki.

I wonder if he spent an year trying to fight his own thoughts that Loki didn't actually hate him or Loki didn't care about him so he let go

2) He says 'I will tell father...' right after 'stay with me, okay' trying not to cry like a baby, thinking Loki will stay if he knows that Odin is proud of him.

All I want to say is Thor is so soft and pure hearted, it pains me to see that he thinks that he doesn't deserve love and he is bound to believe so because everyone he loved left him, that nobody loved Thor, they loved the hero, the prince, the protector.

Sorry I'm crying

oh my god anon…that’s the thing i’m sensitive about :(

i think (?) i’ve talked about this on here or at the very least on twitter but truly truly i think that every action thor takes post-thor (2011) can be traced back to what happens to him in that movie. it really is the formative experience of his life in a very bad way.

thor’s always been unsure of himself, i think. we know that both loki and frigga can see through his facade before the coronation, so we know his whole self-assured cockiness is on some levels an act. and he goes to loki for so much reassurance and guidance and trusts him so much. i can’t imagine what it must have felt like at the most tumultuous time (so far) in thor’s life to hear loki say he doesn’t love him, that they aren’t brothers. and for loki to kill him!!! i mean, fuck, guys. imagine what that would make thor think. “loki thinks that i’m a bad enough person that i should die”. and doesn’t even disagree with him. thor just accepts that he’s beyond saving and puts himself up on the chopping block, essentially bc loki asked him to.

and also those are really good examples of thor putting everyone else’s feelings before his own that i hadn’t picked up on. thank you for sharing cause i think you’re absolutely right. with the “we all did” line, i do think he was trying so hard to convince loki that he was loved by everyone, not just himself. i think, honestly, that thor was trying to like…delegate (for lack of a better word) his love for loki, in a way? kind of diluting his own emotions so he doesn’t appear as vulnerable. it’s something he does in parts of the dark world, too, especially in the scene where he’s trying to convince loki to join their quest to the dark world. “that hope no longer exists to protect you.” we know that he’s bluffing, and i think he’s bluffing bc he doesn’t want to be the only one who cares, since he thinks loki hates him. and also, yes i absolutely do think that thor fully believed that loki hated him. i don’t think thor knew that loki still cared about him at all until the end of ragnarok…

AND this is making me insane bc you’re RIGHT…if thor doesn’t think loki loves him, ofc he’d say “i’ll tell father…” bc he doesn’t think that loki would’ve sacrificed himself for just him 😭😭 WHAT THE HELL

but yeah :( you’re right. thank you for the pain. respectfully fuck loki for making him feel that way

#marvel #mcu #asks #thor meta