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starlightkun · 4 months

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❧ 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.”

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sl-ut · 1 year

Text

you should probably leave

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

description: joel is enamoured by his new neighbour, but old patterns will always be his downfall.

warnings: UNEDITED, slight age gap, slight smut, implied unprotected piv, protected piv, swearing, alcohol consumption, insecurity, angst, reader is given a birthday (she's a sag like me)

words: 10.8K (my longest fic to date)

date posted: 14/03/23

part two

(inspired by you should probably leave by chris stapleton)

OCTOBER 12, 1998

The weather was something that she was unsure if she could ever get used to. For her entire life, she had spent the entirety of the late autumn months dreading the first snowfall of the season before lugging out her extensive collection of knitted sweaters and fur-lined boots. Instead, her little archive of winter clothing was left in a cardboard box in her childhood bedroom, along with the majority of her other belongings that she had not brought with her on her grand adventure–if you could even call it that.

The University of Texas at Austin had not been her first choice of school, or her second, or third; she actually had never even imagined going to school any further than a few hours from her hometown in Pennsylvania, and yet there she was, standing in front of her brand-new home, sweltering under the harsh Texan sun as she struggled to unload her packed car all on her own. Well, to call it her home would be a pretty tight stretch, as well as to label it as “brand-new.”

The small bungalow-style house had caught her eye on a flyer in the grocery store, a listing for one female roommate in a cul-de-sac not too far from the city. It wasn’t exactly her dream home by any means, with an ugly yellow exterior and a kitchen that could certainly use an updating, but it she had recently been forced out of her own apartment due to her previous roommate preferring her boyfriend to live their with her instead and it was the nicest of the few places within her price range that would also accommodate the mutt she’d rescued during her first year. All things considered, it was quite literally perfect for her situation–plus her new roommate seemed to have been at least more considerate of her boundaries than the last, which gave her some hope that things might actually work out.

Y/n grunted at the weight of the box, cursing herself internally for enrolling in school and owning so many textbooks as she lugged it up the front steps, dropping it just inside the door. She couldn’t help but grimace as she glanced up, meeting the watchful gaze of Manny, his furry little head tilting curiously–likely wondering why she was making so much ruckus and interrupting his nap.

“Lazy ass,” she muttered under her breath at him, kicking the box to the side before trudging back out the door.

The next few boxes were filled with clothes and shoes, fortunately for her spine. She hauled several out, dropping each of them to the pavement of the driveway carelessly as she wiped at her sweaty forehead, apparently too enthralled in the work to notice the beat up truck as it turned into the neighbouring driveway.

“Hey there,” she turned to find a young man, his hair combed back to expose his effortlessly charming face to her, “You need a hand?”

She glanced down at the boxes at her feet, “I wouldn’t wanna bother you.”

A young girl appeared at his side, wide eyes peering over at the older female curiously. The man shrugged, puffing out his broad chest as he moved. Y/n almost laughed at how obvious he was being, only seconds after meeting her. The man gave off the impression that he had always thought fairly highly of himself, probably the quarterback of the high school football team, maybe even involved in the armed forces–the navy, she was betting. He crossed the barrier between the two driveways in two long strides, extending his hand out to her as he came closer.

“I’m Tommy,” he flashed her a grin, his accent coming out thicker than it probably would have normally. He glanced over his shoulder, motioning for the young girl to follow him into the neighbouring yard, “This is my niece Sarah.”

Y/n smiled politely, shaking his hand lightly, “Hi, I’m Y/n. I guess it’s nice to meet some of my new neighbours.”

“Well, Sarah, here, is your neighbour. Me, I live–”

“What happened to Stephanie?” Sarah interrupted, “I didn’t know she was moving.”

Y/n turned her attention to the young girl, “She isn’t, we’re just living together now.”

Sarah’s mouth formed an ‘o’, the gears visibly turning in her head as she formulated her next question, “Are you guys dating?”

“Sarah!” Tommy choked on his spit, “I’m sorry–”

“It’s okay,” Y/n chuckled at his response before turning back to the young girl, “No, we’re not. I guess she just didn’t wanna be living here all on her own anymore.”

Tommy’s shoulders relaxed, the mortified expression leaving his features in favour of one that she might have even considered relief. He shook his head at his niece, giving her a hard stare, “I’m sorry about her. I figured that she would have some better manners by now–my mistake.”

Sarah swatted at him, a pout appearing on her lips as her brows furrowed. The girl didn’t quite understand how the question may have been taken with offence by some, and was quite miffed by her uncle’s insult.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Y/n affirmed, “I think it’s actually a good thing that she knows about that kinda stuff.”

Tommy glanced down at the boxes, clear discomfort appearing on his features, “Alrighty then, how about these boxes?”

Y/n gave in, offering Tommy one of the heavier of the three boxes, while shifting the smallest and lightest to the young girl, who had been adamant in helping out. She instructed them to just drop the boxes to the floor by the door, not looking to take up much more of their time.

A loud gasp escaped Sarah, her wide eyes falling on the mutt, who had appeared to have been equally as excited to see her as he rushed over, tongue lolling out of his mouth and tail flapping wildly. Sarah squealed when he barrelled into her, a fit of giggles leaving her mouth as he brought her to the ground and began to cover her face in slobbery kisses.

“Manny!” Y/n groaned, grasping the dog’s collar and pulling away enough for Sarah to sit up off of the floor, “Sorry, he’s just convinced that everyone wants to be his friend.”

“I’ll be his friend!” Sarah beamed, reaching out and squishing the dog’s face in between her palms, “I mean… Can I?”

Y/n shrugged, “As long as it’s okay with your…” She glanced at Tommy for help, unsure about Sarah’s parentage situation. He’d already made it clear that he did not live next door, but had never explicitly stated who did.

“You’ll have to ask your dad, Sarah,” He chastised her, “Anyway, we should get out of your hair now, let you settle in.”

Y/n nodded, “Yeah, thank you for the help, though.”

“No problem, ma’am,” He winked, southern charm on full display as he stepped out onto the front step, “Anytime for a pretty girl like you. C’mon, Sar.”

Sarah begrudgingly offered the needy pup one more affectionate squeeze before following after her uncle, leaping off of the step and bounding across to her own front yard. Tommy paused, hand resting on the railing of the step and giving it a firm shake. His lips pursed into a line as he let out a small huh as the bannister shifted out of its place, then back in under the pressure.

“Yeah, Steph said there were all kinds of little things wrong with the place,” Y/n noted, “But hey, if it’s got four walls and a roof, it’s good enough for me.”

He chuckled at her, shaking his head, “You know, my brother and I are contractors, we could come over and help you fix things up if you guys wanted.”

She hummed, “I’ll mention it to Steph. Wouldn’t wanna just start making changes to her house while she’s not here, would I?”

Tommy hummed, “‘Spose that’s true. Anyway, I should go see where she ran off to, but I sure hope I’ll be seeing you around.” He shot her a cheeky wink before jogging back over to the neighbouring yard, leaving her and Manny among the mess of boxes in the entryway.

Y/n huffed, glancing around at the mess, then at the furry little beast at her feet, who waited patiently for her to begin offering him her love and attention. She rested her hands on her hips, shaking her head softly, “Well, let’s just get this done, boy.”

– – –

Joel grunted as he clambered in through the side door of his home, sighing in relief as he slipped out of his heavy work boots and dropped the armload of groceries onto the kitchen counter. He could hear the TV on in the living room, drowned out by Sarah’s yell of a greeting. He rushed to put away the groceries, sticking the brown paper bags in the recycling before stepping into the dimly lit sitting area.

Tommy was reclined on the couch, slumped into the worn leather like a pile of mashed potatoes as he balanced his can of Budweiser on his bent knee. He nodded to his brother briefly as he lifted the beer to his lips, hardly taking his eyes off of the football game on the screen as Joel plopped down next to him. The older brother leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to Sarah’s head so as to not disturb her as she worked on her homework on the coffee table in front of the couch before finally copying his brother’s position.

“The hell took you so long? You left the site the same time I did, and I had to go pick this shithead up from school,” he playfully kicked at Sarah’s leg, “plus I helped your new neighbour move in.”

“Supermarket was a zoo,” Joel moaned as he ran his palm flat over his face, then furrowed his brow, “What new neighbour?”

Tommy nodded his head back in the direction of the mustard yellow house, “Chick next door got a new roommate.”

“Uncle Tommy was flirting with her,” Sarah chimed in, not taking her eyes off of the math textbook in front of her.

Joel rolled his eyes, “Now tell me why I’m not surprised.”

Tommy shook his head, taking another large gulp of beer, “I know what you’re thinking, but this girl’s different. She’s not from ‘round here. Not sure where, but she’s got an accent. Canada, maybe.”

“You know what a Canadian accent sounds like?” Joel scoffed, knowing that his brother was prone to drawing his own conclusions.

“Well, no,” Tommy frowned, “But I imagine it might sound like that. Doesn’t matter, I think I’m gonna ask her out.”

Joel grunted in response, turning his eyes to the game on the screen.

“She wasn’t flirting back,” Sarah grinned up at the two men, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her father’s growing smirk and giggling as his own laughter came tumbling out. Tommy kicked her again, only this time with a little more force, “What? You invited yourself over there and were all,” She puffed her chest out and deepened her voice, “Anything for a pretty girl like you.”

Joel rested a palm on his belly as he shook with laughter, his other hand landing on the top of his daughter’s head affectionately as Tommy crossed his arms, sulking.

“I think she was flirting back,” he argued.

“She wasn’t,” Sarah reaffirmed.

Tommy leaned forward, “Now how the hell would you know anything about flirting, huh? You been doin’ a lot of it at school?”

Her face burned in embarrassment, sputtering for a response, “No, that’s gross!”

Joel frowned at her, shaking his head in feign sternness, “You better not be. Otherwise I might need to break out grandpa’s old hunting rifle.”

She didn’t utter another word, simply gathering her things in her arms and rushing off to her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her as the laughter of her father and uncle followed her every step.

OCTOBER 17, 1998

Just under a week had passed since he’d first caught wind of his new neighbour, and Joel had yet to even see this woman. He’d noticed the new car in the driveway, and he’d picked up on the presence of the dog fairly quickly, especially after he’d caught Sarah tossing some of the vegetables from her dinner over the fence for him. Joel hadn’t paid it much mind, he was far too busy to be concerned with some young girl who didn’t seem to be causing much issues.

He’d had words with Stephanie several times in the past; once for blatantly smoking pot on

her front step when they were heading out for the day, then for leaving her garbage bin too close to his driveway, causing him to back into it and scratch the paint on his truck, and then once more when she’d had a little get together that ended up lasting until 4am, when the police arrived. He would normally have called himself a narc for having the party shut down, but it was keeping Sarah awake and the door had been shut in his face when he went over to ask politely.

The day had been long, and normally he would have refused Tommy’s invitation to head over to one of the local dive bars, but after dealing with the shit-show that had gone on at the job site that day, he really needed a drink. Sarah was out of the house, anyway, having slept over at a friend’s house, so there was quite literally nothing keeping him away.

“Brother’s night, my ass,” Joel grumbled into his glass, glancing over to the corner booth, where his brother had joined a pretty brunette, leaving Joel to himself at the barside. He waved at the bartender, motioning for another top-up of his whiskey.

A figure appeared at his side, leaning onto the bartop to call out to the bartender. Joel glanced over, his eyes raking over her radiant side profile in awe. He shot his gaze back to the glass of amber liquid in front of him, then briefly over to the girl once more. His eyes narrowed in on her pursed lips, noting how her brows furrowed in frustration as the bartender migrated to the other side of the bar. She turned to him suddenly, and Joel whipped his head back around to ensure that he wouldn’t appear to be some creep–though he was positive he certainly had been.

“Is it always like this here?” She asked him, tilting her head. “I swear, I’ve gone to three different spots along this bar, and buddy keeps looking in the other direction.”

He cleared his throat, “You not from around here?”

She smiled sheepishly, “Is it that obvious?”

Joel chuckled, “Just a little. You gotta get his attention, be firm. Here,” he tucked his index finger and thumb into his mouth and let out a loud whistle, nodding at the bartender as he rushed over.

“Two vodka crans, please,” The girl smiled prettily at the bartender, then scoffed as he turned to begin pouring the drinks, “Shit, I guess I could stand to learn a thing or two.”

“It comes with time,” He frowned, realising that he may have implied that he was at the bar every other night, “I mean, not that I’m–”

She touched his arm softly, electricity running through her fingertips and into his bicep, “Hey, I’m not here to judge you if you’re not here to judge me, heh?”

He nodded, opening his mouth to speak once more when another figure appeared at her side. His smile dropped, taking in the sight of his next door neighbour, probably one of the last people he wanted to see on his night off.

“What the fuck is taking you so long–oh,” Stephanie narrowed her eyes at the older man, who simply turned and took another long swig of his whiskey, “Hello, Joel.”

“Stephanie,” he drawled, “How you doin’ tonight?”

She smirked at him maliciously, “Fine. Y/n, this is the guy I was telling you about.”

Oh, this is Y/n, he thought to himself, suddenly understanding Tommy’s instant interest in the girl.

“All good things, I hope,” he sighed into his glass.

She shook her head, “Oh, just that you’re the neighbour from hell, and that you’re a narc.”

Y/n tucked her bottom lip in between her teeth, visibly uncomfortable at the confrontation. His eyes fell to her mouth at the movement, wondering what it might feel like to take that same lip in between his own teeth.

“You keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night, Steph,” he huffed, praying to any god that would listen that she hadn’t completely turned Y/n against him.

Stephanie sneered at him, grasping one of the drinks from the bartop and stomping off, leaving a thick tension over the remaining two. Joel met Y/n’s gaze once again, noting the visible embarrassment on her face as she began to laugh slowly.

“Sorry about her,” She laughed nervously, “For the record, I know that she’s a little dramatic.”

“‘T’s fine,” Joel grumbled, swallowing the last gulp of whiskey, “You ain’t gotta apologise for her, she can feel however she wants about me.”

Y/n chuckled, a genuine one this time and Joel couldn’t help but carve the melodious sound into his memory, “I’m Y/n, by the way.”

He nodded, accepting the soft handshake that she offered, “So I’ve heard.” He noticed the slight furrow of her brow before he clarified, “I’m Sarah’s dad.”

Realisation crossed her face, “Oh, Sarah! She’s a real sweetheart.”

“Yeah, she is,” he smiled softly at the complement, “She sure likes you, and I’m assuming that it’s your pup that I’ve caught her feeding her broccoli to?”

Y/n giggled at him, “Huh, I’d noticed that he was especially gassy lately. Here I was thinking it was something in the water.”

Joel let out a loud laugh, then realised that he had not actually introduced himself, “Shit. Sorry, I just–” he coughed, “I’m Joel.”

“So I’ve heard.” She repeated to him, clearing her throat before turning to gaze at him through her lashes with a soft smile, “So Joel, is this seat taken?”

– – –

Y/n had not expected to have enjoyed herself quite so much when Stephanie forced her to go to the grubby little saloon, feeling incredibly out of place among all of the southerners. She had been hesitant to leave Manny on his own so soon after moving in, but the last thing that she had wanted to do was get on Stephanie’s bad side so early on. Then, she’d stumbled upon the devastatingly handsome man sitting all on his own at the bar, and her tune changed drastically.

She sat on that stool for the better part of two hours after Stephanie had fucked off, leaving them to become acquainted with one another. Joel had offered her another drink, which she accepted under the terms that she would buy the next round, and against his better judgement, he found himself doing a shot of tequila with her as well. She smirked to herself when she took note of the flush that had crawled into his cheeks, and how cheerful his dark chocolate eyes looked under the dim lighting of the bar.

Y/n had noticed Tommy in the corner booth, and how he had been blatantly pressing his southern charm onto the brunette under his arm in the very same way that he had to her, which made her feel much better knowing that he couldn’t possibly be that upset about her doing the exact same to his brother.

Her hand had come to rest on his knee, leaning across to invade his personal space animatedly as she spoke, her own cheeks flushing each time that he grinned or laughed at her words, and she had lost count of the amount of times that she had rubbed her thighs together or considered smashing her lips to his.

Tommy appeared at his side, clutching his shoulder in his firm grasp, “Hey Joel, you think you’re ready–oh, hey, Y/n.” His cheeks had turned red, one hand self-consciously rising to rub at his cheek, where the stark red lipstick stain had once acted as a trophy and was now an admission of guilt. Tommy pursed his lips, “Wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.”

She shrugged, “Steph forced me out.”

He nodded awkwardly, unsure of how to save himself in this situation.

Y/n turned her head, catching sight of her roommate’s drunken attempt to seduce the bouncer before turning her attention back to the older of the two brothers, squeezing his knee once before sliding off of the stool, “Speaking of, I should probably leave, she’s gonna get us banned from here any minute now. It’s been nice, talking to you, Joel. See you, Tommy.”

Both men watched as she disappeared into the crowd, eyes trailing after her figure longingly.

Tommy huffed, “You think I still got a chance?”

Joel’s shoulders shook in a drunken fit of giggles, lifting his own hand to proudly show off the nine digits that had been marked into his skin, “Nope.”

Tommy’s jaw dropped, clear disappointment on his features before it was quickly replaced by pride, “Well fuck, brother. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

OCTOBER 31, 1998

Y/n wiped at the sweat on her brow, breathing picking up in delight as she turned the corner and the blinding yellow house came into sight. The sun had already begun to set by the time that she and Manny had set out on their evening walk, now settling low on the horizon and casting a golden hue to the world below it as Manny tugged on his leash, obviously also desperate to escape the heat.

A loud honk sounded from behind her, muffled slightly by the music playing over her bulky headphones, drawing her attention to the dark pickup truck as it sped past, Sarah hanging out the back window with a grin on her face as she waved dramatically. Y/n chuckled at the young girl, allowing Manny to lead her into a faster pace as they grew closer to their house.

She slid the headphones down to rest around her neck, pressing pause on her walkman as Sarah rushed towards them. The girl paid very little mind to the woman holding the leash, instead dropping to her knees and reaching out for the excited dog’s face, laughing as he began to lick enthusiastically at her cheek.

“Hi,” her gaze rose to find Joel as he rounded the bed of the truck, hand resting on the top of the tailgate as he tried his best to look casual, “sorry, this one never shuts up about that dog.”

Y/n smiled at him, warmth flooding through her cheeks. She’d only actually spoken to Joel a handful of times since that night at the bar, mostly simple greetings while Sarah occupied herself with Manny. Joel was too awkward of a person to try anything with Sarah present, and Y/n was too compassionate to question him about why he hadn’t bothered to call yet in front of his daughter.

Y/n shrugged, “To be fair, he never shuts up about her, either.”

“Oh did he tell you that?” The man asked, brows raised playfully, “I didn’t know you spoke dog.”

“There are many things you don’t know about me yet, Joel,” She smirked at him, “Oh, happy Halloween, by the way.”

“Right,” Joel raised one hand to stroke his hairy chin, “Yeah, you too.”

Sarah glanced up from Manny’s pleading brown eyes, “Dad forgot.

Joel sent a sharp glare to his daughter, then smiled sheepishly at her, “Not too concerned about a holiday that’s got nothing to do with me, anyway–this one decided she’s too cool for trick-or-treating with dad this year.”

“Oh don’t feel too discouraged, I gave my dad the boot when I was even younger.”

“See?” Sarah pressed, glancing back at her father, “You don’t even like Halloween, I don’t get why you’re mad.”

Y/n widened her eyes and clutched her chest dramatically, “What do you mean, you don’t like Halloween? It’s like, one of the best holidays!”

Joel rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t tell me you’re one of those people.”

She pursed her lips, “And just when I was starting to like you, Miller.”

His eyes met hers, curiosity pooling into the dark mocha irises as he considered her words. He almost appeared apologetic; could he feel guilty about not calling her? Y/n did her best to not appear too shaken by his lack of contact–she hadn’t expected anything from him the next day, but after two weeks and still no call? She’d taken that as a sign that he’d been a tad too drunk when he had been so shamelessly flirting with her, and that he had no intentions of ever pursuing anything.

Y/n was thankful when Sarah interrupted the pair, preventing her from spiralling into a nervous breakdown from her own inner monologue, “What are you dressing up as?”

The woman shook her head with a mischievous smirk on her lips, “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see when you come knocking at my door, huh?”

“No big plans?” Joel tilted his head, “I figured that roommate of yours would have you out on the town.”

She shrugged, “Steph’s out of town. Something about the drinks and the guys being stronger. Looks like it’s just gonna be me and my little guy here,” she gently clapped a hand against Manny’s side, “Well, us and a selection of horror movies.”

Sarah stood up, leaning into her dad’s side with her elbow, “How convenient, my dad will also be home alone tonight.”

Joel dropped his head in embarrassment–just leave it to Sarah to blatantly play the role of her father’s wingwoman. He refused to meet Y/n’s amused gaze, ears burning as Sarah continued.

“And he totally loves horror movies. He watches them all the time.”

“Oh really?” Y/n did her best not to burst out laughing, enjoying the sight of both Joel’s embarrassment and how confidently Sarah was trying to talk up her own father. She crossed her arms over her chest, doing her best to not make it too obvious how much she actually wanted to invite him to join her, but she didn’t want to display too much interest in him if he genuinely had none in her, “Well then maybe he should head to Blockbuster before all of the good ones are rented.”

She raised her brow at him, signalling to him that it was his turn to make a move, as she would not be making any more. He nodded at her, red flooding his cheeks as he tried to muster up the courage to discuss the clear tension between them.

Y/n smiled politely at them both, then glanced down at the heavily panting dog at her feet, “Well, I better get this guy out of this heat. See you guys in a bit, then?” She led the dog past them, glancing back over her shoulder, her lips pursed as she watched Sarah poke at her father’s side sharply.

The young girl smirked at her dad knowingly, remaining silent, though the expression on her face made her thoughts very clear to the man. She scowled at him, crossing her arms over her chest, “Christina’s sister is so right; all boys are stupid.”

The man scowled at his daughter, watching in silence as she moved around him without another word, disappearing through the front door without so much as another glance. Joel scoffed, shaking his head at her, and wondering how the hell his nine year old could be so goddamn right about the situation.

– – –

Joel wiped his hands anxiously across the expanse of his thighs, attempting to rid himself of the nervous sweat that had collected in his palms as he stood on Y/n’s front step, mustering up the courage to finally knock.

“The fuck am I doing,” He cursed to himself, shaking his head as he ran a hand over his face.

Y/n was younger than him; not by a lot, but they were still in very different stages of their lives. He wasn’t willing to admit that he genuinely did like her, and considering that she was still a young woman and still in college, he wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for with him. Was it just some quick fuck that she wanted? Joel wouldn’t be opposed–hell, he was ashamed that he’d imagined such a thing more than a few times since meeting her–but he wasn’t sure if he could jump into bed with her and then move on with his life, nor could he expect her to be willing to just pick up the role of step-mother to his little girl.

Joel had woken up on October 17, hungover as hell and struggling to recall any of his memories from the night before. He’d forced himself out of bed much earlier than he would have liked, needing to pick Sarah up before her soccer game. The man had stumbled his way into the shower, blindly going through the motions of bathing himself as the warm water slowly began to remove the fog from his mind. It was then, as he had reached out for his bottle of body wash that he noticed the smudge of blue ink on his skin, and then jumping in surprise at the memory of the beautiful woman who had given him her phone number–the woman who had him laughing like he hadn’t in so long and blushing harder than he thought possible–the woman who he hoped was now lying peacefully in her bed next door, preferably all on her own.

The few times that he had seen her since then, he had thought about apologising for not calling and telling her the truth of what had happened, despite his embarrassment. He wanted to ask for it again, but every time, Sarah was there, making a fuss over the little pooch that never seemed to leave Y/n’s side. He wished that he were more confident in himself, more willing to speak to other women even if his daughter was there, but he simply would never be able to look at the young girl again if Y/n were to reject him.

“Shit,” He swore loudly as he turned to rush off of the step, instead booting one of the carefully carved jack-o-lanterns onto the pavement of the driveway and watching in horror as it shattered on impact.

“Joel?” He froze at the sound of the door creaking open behind him, smiling bashfully at the young woman as he did his best to not appear too guilty. Her eyes fell from his flushed face to the mess of orange at his feet, a surprised chuckle leaving her lips, “Damn, you really do hate Halloween, huh? Enough to come over here and start destroying my decorations, anyway.”

He sputtered for an answer, “I–it was an accident, I just knocked it off by accident on my way out–”

“Your way out?” She questioned, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the doorframe, “So what, you were just loitering on my front step?”

He scoffed at her, “I was actually on my way to apologise, but if you’d rather I just get lost…”

Y/n raised a brow inquisitively, “I’m listening.”

“I just–I’m sorry for not calling,” Joel admitted with a sigh, debating whether or not it would be best to explain exactly why, “For what it’s worth, I would have if I hadn’t washed it off by accident.”

An amused expression crossed her features as she mulled over his explanation, “You…washed it off?”

He shrugged and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, “I did.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, as if she were trying to decipher whether or not he was being truthful, “Okay.”

His gaze shifted from side to side, uncertain as to what she meant, “Okay?”

“Okay,” She affirmed, “So what time did you wanna come over tonight?”

Joel swallowed the lump in his throat, “Tonight?”

Y/n shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the butterflies that slammed at the lining of her stomach and threatened to erupt, “Tonight. You said it yourself, Sarah’s gonna be gone all night, so would you rather be home alone or come over? Otherwise, I’ll just be here by myself, scared and in need of a devastatingly handsome cowboy to protect me from Michael Myers.”

Blush spread across his cheeks, his hands coming up to rest on his hips, “I don’t know about ‘devastatingly handsome’, but I think I could handle some asshole in a mask.”

She grinned at him wickedly, “That’s what everyone thinks, but I guess we’ll see tonight, around eight?”

“Eight.” He confirmed, then glanced down at the mess at his feet, “And sorry about your pumpkin.”

“It’s alright,” Y/n smirked, “You’ll just have to work extra hard to make it up to me.”

– – –

Joel anxiously adjusted his shirt, frowning at himself in the window of her front door. Despite dismissing Sarah’s teasing by claiming that this was in fact, not a date, he’d taken her advice in showering the moment that he had gotten into the house.

He was aware that she was flirting with him, but until he had gotten out of the shower, towel sitting low around his waist as he wiped the steam away from the mirror and took in his shaggy appearance, he had not been at all concerned about what activities the night might lead to. Staring at his own reflection, nervousness quickly began to settle into his bones.

He had made quick work with the clipper, shortening the length of his facial hair after several weeks of negligence and leaving his lower face to be covered by a light stubble. He put a little more effort into his hair than usual, running a thin layer of gel through it while noting to himself that it was probably time for a haircut. He even took things a step further, dabbing a few drops of some woodsy cologne onto his skin; the bottle had gone untouched for two years, having been a Christmas present from his mother.

“Are you wearing cologne?” Sarah asked as she appeared at his side, face painted to resemble a circus clown, “I knew this was a date.”

“It’s not a date,” He argued, doing his best not to jump in fright at her appearance, “Shouldn’t you be out on the town by now, Ronald McDonald?”

“You showered, put on cologne, and you’re bringing candy? It’s a date.” Sarah listed, “And I’m Pennywise, by the way. Christina’s sister is coming to pick me up soon. She says that guys always dress up when she goes out with them because they want her–”

Joel grunted, glaring at his daughter, “I want you to stop hanging around Christina’s sister.”

Sarah ignored his comment, “Is that what you’re wearing?”

Joel glanced down at his outfit–a clean pair of jeans and an old t-shirt that he’d probably gotten out of a beer box or something, “What’s wrong with this?”

“What’s right with it?”

Joel considered his parenting style for a moment, wondering if he would be free of this headache if he had spanked his daughter once or twice in her life. Sometimes he forgot that the girl was only nine years old with how intelligent she was and how much more mature she seemed in comparison to other kids her age.

“It’s not a date, Sarah.”

She rolled her eyes, “It could be. Come on.”

Sarah rushed past him, leading him into his own bedroom as she began to dig through his closet. She frowned with almost every piece that she picked out, tossing them behind her recklessly and ignoring her father’s scolding for the mess that she had quickly created.

“Hah!” The girl pulled out an egg-plant button down and shoved it into his grasp, “I knew you had to have something that wasn’t that ugly.”

He grunted at her, but didn’t reply out of respect for her brutal honesty as he quickly shed himself of the worn t-shirt he’d previously been wearing in favour of the one that Sarah had chosen. Now, as he stood at her front door and internally decided for himself that this was a date, he couldn’t help but thank God for his daughter’s awareness.

Finally, after tugging at the hem of his shirt, he raised a fist and knocked heavily on the door. Joel choked on his own saliva when she appeared in the window, smiling sweetly at him when she pulled the door open. She had already changed into a pair of black yoga pants and a sky blue shirt that exposed just a tasteful amount of her midriff.

“Hi, again,” she breathed, a smile forming on her face, “You look nice, purple is definitely your colour.”

Joel burned, “I–thank you. Sarah picked it out.”

Y/n turned to the girl, who had already ushered the dog up onto the sofa with her, “Well she has a clear eye for style.”

“She definitely thinks so, that girl damn near harrasses me about my clothes everyday.” Y/n laughed out loud, Joel’s ears tingling at the melodious sound, “You look great, too.”

Y/n beamed down at her outfit, shrugging to herself, “Thanks, I thought about keeping my costume on but I wasn’t entirely sure how much you would be into Strawberry Shortcake.”

Joel chuckled at her, glancing down at the object in his hand, “I brought beer, by the way. Wasn’t sure if I should bring anything, or if you even like–”

Y/n reached out, snatching the six pack from his grasp, “Ever the gentleman, cowboy. So, you coming in?”

– – –

The house was filled with laughter, both having nearly finished their first beer as they shared stories freely. Halloween played quietly in the background, though neither of them paid too much attention. Y/n did her best not to physically melt when she felt Joel’s arm drape across the back of the sofa behind her, resisting the urge to tease him for attempting to cover it up by faking a dramatic yawn.

She brushed her fingers along the top of his thigh, smirking to herself as she watched his leg slowly shift closer to her, though he didn’t address the affectionate touch. He spoke to her softly, and made an effort to hold eye contact with her as he did to–she was starting to feel some guilt about the conclusion that he’d drawn about him after he’d failed to call her. Her own gaze continuously fell to his lips as he spoke, and she was sure that he had noticed by the way that his lips began to curl confidently. Her heart hammered in her chest, wondering how much longer she would need to wait before he finally made a move.

Joel, however, was wondering exactly how he possibly could make a move. While feeling confident around her, there was no way to escape the fact that he hadn’t been on a date in at least a year, and he could count the amount of women he’d slept with since Sarah’s mother on one hand. At various points throughout the night, he had considered leaning in to kiss her, but had successfully siked himself out each time. The first time, he’d been interrupted by the pooch who had been jealous of his owner’s attention being focused elsewhere, though he could only blame every other time on his own insecurity.

“Do you want another beer?” Y/n asked as he swallowed the last gulp out of his can, “Or I have wine and pop?”

“Pop,” he scoffed, chest rumbling with quiet laughter.

She raised her hand and slapped his pec as she stood up from the couch, “Fine, you don’t get anything.”

He laughed, watching as she disappeared into the kitchen and shamelessly admiring the shape of her backside in the darkness of the dimly lit living room. He sat there for a few moments, staring at the movie in discontent, sighing as he ran his hand over his face and murmured a nearly silent fuck it, and following after her.

“Is it too late to apologise and get that beer?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, smirking as she shrugged coyly as she turned and leaned her back against the front of the refrigerator and holding the perspiring can out in front of her, “You’ll have to come get it yourself.”

Joel crossed the small room in two long strides, stopping as the can met his chest, though he paid it little mind as she stepped away from the fridge, pressing a fleeting kiss to his lips. He froze for a second, stomach clenching at the soft touch.

“Sorry,” Y/n whispered, though her tone betrayed how unapologetic she truly was, “Was that okay?”

He didn’t respond, quickly taking the beer out of her grasp and tossing it onto the counter as he cupped her face, capturing her lips with his and pressing her back against the fridge once more. She smiled against his lips, fingers bunching in the material of his plum coloured shirt and tugging him even closer.

His lips were chapped against her own, the telltale sign of a busy man who hadn’t been too concerned with his physical appearance up until now, though she could not picture another kiss that she had received in the last several years that would even compare to Joel’s.

One of his hands fell, fingers splaying around her waist as he pressed even closer, parting his lips as he felt the tip of her tongue prod at the seam and allowing her to seek out his own. He moaned at her taste, fingers wandering to her hip and hesitating, almost as if he had been asking for her permission to move even lower. She grasped his hand, guiding it around to cup her bottom.

Pulling away for air, she giggled softly and fluttered her eyelids open to find him already staring at her with blown pupils. One of her hands slid up his chest, tugging at the collar of his shirt before her fingers trailed over his patchy beard affectionately, “I don’t know if this is too soon, but do you wanna move to my bedroom?”

Joel chuckled at her, squeezing her cheek through her yoga pants, “Lead the way.”

– – –

Joel worried that he might have gone into cardiac arrest as he struggled to catch his breath, back slouched against the headboard as Y/n slumped flush against his chest. The cotton sheets pooled around her hips as she continued to move softly, working them both through the aftershocks of their climaxes. The man sighed in appreciation as her lips continued to slide against his jawline and leave gentle kisses in their wake, her fingers still lost in his dark curls.

Joel’s own hands squeezed her hips as she finally slowed to a stop, helping her slide off of him and smirking to himself at the whine she let out at the loss of contact. She shifted, moving out of his lap and curling into the cool sheets on the bed next to him.

“How was that?” He panted, “Have I done enough to make up for lost time?”

She grinned at him, her own chest rising and falling with her slowing breaths, “I think I recall doing most of the work, actually.”

“Bein’ on top doesn’t mean you were doing any work, sweetheart, I think we both know that.” His eyes fell on the digital alarm clock on her bedside table, grunting to himself as he took note of the late hour, “Shit–how the hell is it ten-thirty already?”

She glanced over to the clock briefly, then back at him, “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

Staring down at her nude form, guilt began to eat away at him as he began to slide off of the mattress and begin gathering his clothes that had been scattered around the room.

“Are you leaving?” His back was turned to her as he pulled on his jeans, though he could only imagine the look on her face from the emotion that dripped from her voice; she was disappointed, facing the reality that she would be abandoned after doing something so intimate.

“I mean…” Joel coughed, “Yeah, I should probably leave. Gotta work early tomorrow, and Sarah’s got soccer practice, and–”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest in an attempt to regain her modesty, “I get it.”

Joel couldn’t help but wonder how many times she’d done this. She seemed disheartened, but not entirely surprised at his decision to head out, as if she was expecting this time to be different from the others–as if she was expecting Joel to be any different from the other shitty guys she’d met since moving to Austin.

“Darlin’,” Joel cooed, coming to sit at the edge of the mattress and cupping her face in his large palms, “It’s not like that. I want nothing more than to stay the night, but I know that I won’t sleep a wink tonight if I do.” His thumb stroked her bottom lip as her mouth slanted into a small, saddened smile. He leaned in, pressing three kisses to her lips, each one longer than the last before pulling back, “Can I get your number? I promise I won’t ask for a third time.”

Y/n smiled at him, kissing him once more before snatching a pen off of the bedside table and scribbling on his hand, “You won’t get it if you ask for a third time, Miller.”

MARCH 12, 1999

Y/n sighed blissfully, gnawing at her lip to prevent any moans of pleasure as Joel worked himself into her over and over, his hips meeting hers with slow, meaningful movements as he did his best to keep both of them quiet. Joel wasn’t normally one for booty calls, though he had hardly seen her in the past few days and couldn’t resist when his mind had wandered while in the shower–and for the first time in what felt like decades, he could rely on the help of soft, feminine touches rather than his own fast and rough tugs.

Her thighs shook, teeth biting into the pillow beneath her face as she pressed her hips back against him and arched her spine in pleasure. She met his thrusts enthusiastically, fingers winding into the sheets tightly.

“Shit,” She gasped, “Joel, I’m gonna–”

“I know,” He rasped, “Shhh baby. Let go, I’ve got you.”

She didn’t hold back, allowing the white hot pleasure to run through her veins, muffling her cries in the plushness of the pillow. Her walls clenched around him, gripping him for everything that she could manage as he fucked her through it, head rolled back in pleasure as his own orgasm teetered over the edge. His fingers tightened around her hips, hauling her back against him a few more times before his seed painted the inside of the condom.

His hands slid up from her hips, one pressing on her back to force her to lay flat against the mattress while the other cupped the soft flesh of her belly to roll her over. Joel took in her figure, eyes scanning her face for any signs of discomfort before dropping to her breasts; the man was absolutely entranced by the shape of her breasts, eagerly pawing at them during makeout sessions and suckling at them with the utmost love and desire as he fucked her. She smiled at him tiredly, hooded eyes admiring his own figure as he slipped out of her, sliding off of the bed and disappearing into the ensuite.

When he returned, he wore a pair of black boxers and carried a maroon washcloth in his hand, carefully parting her legs and sliding the cloth through her folds, puffy and sore from his touch. He whispered an entirely disingenuous apology as he pressed lightly against her abused clit, chuckling to himself as she jumped. Tossing the cloth aside, he settled into the mattress next to her, sliding an arm around her waist and tugging her into his side, sighing in relief at the physical contact.

The rising sun had slowly begun to peek through the blinds, filling the room with a soft glow in the aftermath of the third round. Y/n glanced at the clock on the far wall, sighing to herself as reality settled into her bones. She hadn’t intended on staying so long, especially after how eagerly the both of them had initiated the first round, having allowed herself to remain at his side until she felt his member begin to grow against her thigh once more. Now, after taking him inside of her three times over the past six hours, she knew that she would eventually need to get up and leave–a habit that they both had and hated when they were finished.

She pressed careful kisses into his flesh, lips moulding to the sweaty skin of his shoulder and neck affectionately while her palm rubbed circles into his firm chest. Joel nuzzled his head into her hair, his own lips pressing to the crown of her head as he, too, appreciated the afterglow.

Y/n’s body and heart screamed at her as she finally pulled herself away from him, hopping out of the bed and collecting her clothing from the floor. Joel watched her with sunken eyes, his attempt to remain stoic as he easily recognised what she was doing proving fruitless.

“You don’t–you don’t gotta go just yet,” he called to her, desperation lacing his voice, “Don’t gotta be at the site till eleven tomorrow–”

“Today,” she corrected, “And that’s in seven hours. Besides, I don’t wanna fall asleep and risk having to run into Sarah. I should probably leave.”

He nodded slowly, continuing to watch her as she dressed and fixed her appearance, preparing herself mentally and physically for her four A.M. walk of shame. Joel wanted to call her back to bed again, to convince her to stay with him and promise breakfast in the morning, but instead watched helplessly as she disappeared into the dark hallway, and closed his eyes disappointedly at the sound of the front door closing behind her.

JUNE 2, 1999

Golden rays of sun peeked through the blinds, trailing up the length of the bed with each passing moment before finally gracing over the soft skin of the woman next to him. Joel laid in his bed as still as possible, one arm around her shoulders to keep her flush against his chest, savouring the intimate, domestic moment before it would eventually come to an end–it always did.

The alarm clock flashed the time tauntingly at him, as if mocking him for wanting to keep her there for much longer than he knew he could. This was undoubtedly the latest she had stayed in his bed; it was nearing six A.M. and she had yet to stir from her deep slumber.

His eyes trailed the length of her bare back, his fingers pressing gently at the indent of her spine as he pushed her body impossibly closer to her and bathing himself in the feeling of her nude body against his own. Joel resisted the urge to shake the growing ache out of his leg as pins and needles crawled up the length of his limb, too afraid to move and wake her–he knew what would come once her eyes had opened, as she had done it countless times now.

It was the twitch of her fingers against the soft flesh of his belly that alerted him to her growing consciousness, nails following the pattern of hair that covered his abdomen softly, drawing a quiet moan of delight from the man beneath her. He felt the curve of her lips against his shoulder, turning his head to meet her eyes as they fluttered open.

“Morning, cowboy,” Her throat was dry and her voice was scratchy, but her words still held the power of causing an eruption of butterflies in his gut.

“Morning,” He leaned closer, the tips of his nose brushing her own before she swatted him away, covering her mouth self-consciously and mumbling something about morning breath. Joel chuckled at her, moving her hand away and planting a soft, closed-mouth kiss against her lips.

Her smile grew, hazy vision flickering around the sun-lit bedroom as realisation dawned on her, “What time is it?”

Joel’s own smile faltered as he cleared his throat, glancing over at the alarm clock again, “Five-to-six.”

“Shit,” She groaned, a hand settling on her forehead, “I should probably leave. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Joel shook his head at her, “You ain’t got nothing to apologise for. I like having you here.”

She pecked his lips again, fondness creeping through her at the man’s admission, “I like being here. But I should go before Sarah wakes up.”

Joel caught her arm as she moved to crawl out of the bed, “Stay.”

“What?”

“Sarah knows you’ve been coming around and leaving early in the morning.” He told her, thumb smoothing circles against her wrist, “She says she’s happy for me, but she said that she won’t approve until you start bringing that damn dog of yours over here when you come.”

Y/n chuckled, her eyes growing a thin red rim along her waterline, “What are you saying?”

“I’m asking you to stay. Every damn night you spend here, you go rushing out like this is just a quick fuck, but I think we both know that it’s a lot more than that. Just come back to bed, please.”

Y/n shook her head at him, glancing over at the rising sun through the blinds in contemplation before she finally shrugged, crawling back into the bed and settling against his naked form with a sigh, her hand resting on his chest as she massaged small circles into his sweaty flesh. Both of them relaxed into one another, enjoying the silence of the early morning and dreading the unavoidable fate of the alarm going off in the coming hour.

NOVEMBER 27, 1999

Y/n tapped her nails against the hardwood of the tabletop rhythmically, doing her best not to make her dissociation too clear as her friends and family chattered back and forth. Her mother was busy on her left hand side, sharing dozens of her favourite childhood photographs to Y/n’s friends with a fondness that only a mother could have, while the seat to her left was empty. The watch that she’d received as a gift from her parents sat on her wrist, the time ticking away as grief settled in her stomach, the realisation that he simply wasn’t coming eating away at her pride.

Her birthday was not something that she generally liked to celebrate, but knowing that her parents, siblings, and a few members of her extended family had orchestrated a trip to visit and celebrate with her had her counting down the days, especially after she had convinced her unofficial boyfriend to join them for dinner at one of the nicest wallet-friendly restaurants in Austin. Now, as she sat silently and watched as her friends laughed and cooed over possibly the most embarrassing photos of her while picking at their slices of birthday cake, her mind only wandered to where exactly he was, and how much more fun she would be having if she were warding him off of any of those photographs–especially all of the ones from her junior high years.

She hadn’t had the chance to speak to him at all that day, having woken up after he had already left for work and dropped Sarah off at school. At the time, Y/n had smiled to herself, thanking him mentally for allowing her to sleep in on her birthday, though she was beginning to wonder if she should have taken the lack of birthday wishes as a sign.

She actively avoided Stephanie’s gaze, wanting to escape the oncoming I told you so, and made as little eye contact as possible with her mother, who watched her sympathetically, and her father, who silently raged over the presence of the empty chair. Y/n now felt embarrassed over how much she’d actually gushed over the man to her family before dinner, wondering if maybe she was more invested in him than he was in her. After all, he had yet to officially ask her to be his girlfriend, despite the fact that she and Manny had taken up residence in his home at least four nights a week and that she had been included in more recent movie nights with him and Sarah.

Maybe she was reading into it too much–something must have happened. Something happened to Sarah, or maybe Tommy had been locked up again. There was no way that Joel had forgotten her birthday, there was simply no way.

– – –

Joel’s feet ached, crying out in pain with every step and sighing in relief as he finally kicked off his heavy boots. The crew that he’d brought on for his most recent and highest paying job to date had given him hell that day, leaving him aching for nothing more than a hot shower and a peaceful night at home with his best girls. He hated having to tack on extra hours to his day, but not arriving home until after ten was something that he would have to deal with in order to finish the job, and he was hoping to save up to take Y/n and Sarah on a little getaway for a weekend in the near future.

The kitchen was dim when he stepped in, and he was somewhat surprised when he discovered no plate of food left for him in the microwave, nor was there a pan of leftovers in the fridge. Instead, there was a single empty carton of a microwavable dinner on the counter along with an empty can of Pepsi. Not wanting to seem ungrateful, he shrugged it off, though he had grown accustomed to Y/n bringing dinner over and making sure that it was ready for him on days that he worked late.

Soft footsteps rushed down the stairs, Sarah rounding the corner with a wide grin on her face as she held a small piece of paper in her hands.

“Hey babygirl,” Joel kissed her head softly as he moved into the living room, even more confused when he did not find Y/n curled up on the couch with a stack of her textbooks, as she so often did while waiting for him to return.

“Hi dad,” Sarah’s smile dropped, glancing back into the entryway in confusion, “Where’s Y/n? I made this card at school today but I figured I’d wait until after you guys came back to give it to her.”

The blood in Joel’s veins ran cold, his heart skipping a beat at the sudden realisation of why his house appeared to be so void of his girlfriend, “Fuck.”

“Dad?” Sarah’s wide eyes narrowed, all too used to her father’s undiagnosed case of short-term memory loss, though he had never ever forgotten something like this before.

“Shit,” He swore again, snatching his keys off of the counter and rushing to jam his feet back into his uncomfortable boots, “Sarah, go to bed. I’ll be back later tonight.”

The girl watched helplessly as her father raced out the door, tears welling in her eyes as she stared down at the happy picture she had pasted into the card and frowning as she feared the worst.

– – –

Joel arrived at the restaurant just before eleven. He knew it was a long shot, as the reservation was for seven-thirty, which he had purposefully written down and stuck to the fridge so that he would not forget. The few remaining staff inside shook their heads in pity at the man, quickly coming to understand his situation as he rushed inside, asking about the reservation with a bouquet of flowers in his grasp.

His shoulders slumped as he parked in his driveway, trudging across the lawn into the neighbouring yard and knocking firmly on the door. He waited a few moments, cursing quietly as he got no response and knocking again.

His frown deepened when the door swung open, a fuming Stephanie standing in his way. Her face burned scarlet, fists clenched at her side as she took in Joel’s pitiful appearance. She took a step forward, joining Joel on the front step and closing the door behind her.

“The fuck do you want?”

“Where’s Y/n?” He asked, ignoring her bluntness.

“She doesn’t wanna talk to you,” the girl sneered at him. “It’s one thing to stand someone up, even to forget their birthday, but to embarrass her like that in front of her family?” She scoffed, “you know, I warned her about you, but I took no pleasure in being right. You should have seen her tonight, barely spoke at all.”

The metaphorical knife in Joel’s gut twisted at her words, the fist clenching the bouquet tightening even further around the stems. He could picture her; all dolled up, chatting with her family as she eagerly awaited his arrival, her pretty smile dampening as time passed and eventual tears in her eyes as she realised the truth–he had forgotten about her.

“Just let me talk to her,” he begged, “Please.”

Stephanie shook her head, “I think it’s best if you never show your face on my property again, Miller.”

“Joel?” Both of their eyes turned at the sound of Y/n’s voice, finding her peeking around the door curiously. “Steph, can you give us a minute?”

The woman sent Joel one final glare, patting her roommate on the shoulder before slipping back into the house.

If the knowledge of what he’d done hadn’t been enough, Y/n’s appearance was the final blow to his gut. Her eyes were bloodshot, cheeks swollen and marked with visible remnants of tears. She wrung her fingers together anxiously, keeping her gaze lowered in shame as she closed the door behind her and turned to face him.

“Baby–”

“Don’t.” Y/n interrupted, “Just explain.”

He sniffled, “I can’t explain it, or excuse it. We got held up at work, and I really need this job to be done and over with already. I’m so sorry, baby.”

She shook her head, lifting her sleeve to wipe at the underside of her nose, “You didn’t even say goodbye before you left this morning. Did you even remember at all?”

Joel bit his lip, “I’m sorry. Let me–”

“Joel,” Her voice cracked, “I love you.” His heart soared as she spoke those words for the first time, then shattered as she continued, “I understand that I’m not your first priority–that’ll always be Sarah and I can’t blame you for that. But, fuck, you suggested the restaurant, Joel. You spoke to my mom over the phone and promised her the best steak in town, and she sure seemed to like it, but you weren’t even there. I won’t ever be your first priority, but I can’t be your last, either.”

“Y/n–”

“I think my cousins liked it, you know.” She continued, wiping at her cheeks, “They’re the type to pray for your downfall, and I’m sure they were loving every second of the dinner once everyone realised that you weren’t coming. Hell, all I did all night was talk about how amazing you were, and then–” Y/n cut herself off with a quiet sob. “You should probably leave.”

“Don’t do this,” Joel cupped her face, dropping the flowers to the deck recklessly as he wiped the tears away from her cheeks with his thumbs, “Tell me what to do. Hit me, yell at me, do something, but don’t ask me to walk away.”

She looked into his eyes, and for a moment, Joel felt hopeful that she might actually listen to him, though all hope was quickly diminished as he removed herself from his grasp, reaffirming her statement as she stepped back into the house.

“You should probably leave.”

#joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou #hbo the last of us #Spotify

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genshin-scenarios · 9 months

Text

a familiar pull - fontaine

Summary: General scenarios with Fontaine characters, very loosely based on the trailers!

Characters: Lyney, Navia, Neuvillette, Furina

Lyney

A long time ago, on streets you no longer bear memory of, you met a magician who not only stole your heart, but planted flowers in place of them.

That is to say; during a rather heavy period in your life, you encountered someone who offered you the comfort of a quiet smile and courteous sleight of hand (to turn 1 coin into 2, then 3, then just enough to treat a lost soul to a drink in the evening, if you cared to join him. And with a demeanor as charming as that, how could you turn him away?)

You asked Lyney what other tricks he knew, to which he simply pointed to the sky and said that if you smiled at the same time the constellations twinkled, your heart would feel lighter.

“And if I become so light as to float toward the stars?”

“Well… I’d have to make my own stars, then. Perhaps even ones you can catch yourself, if you’d like to join me onstage.”

Navia

To catch a stray umbrella that’s escaped its owner is not part of your regular afternoon, however a part of you welcomes the incident due to how it acquainted you with Navia, who was quick to thank you for the trouble and invite you out as an apology.

If Fontaine’s lifestyle weighed on the beauty of a show, you could say that Navia shined so brightly on her own that there was no need to put on additional fronts to satisfy this. From her lively actions to the honest furrow in her brow, you might compare her to sunlight - paving a way for clarity and cheer, with warmth in her voice as she spoke your name.

“Say, if you managed to catch my umbrella so easily, could it be that you…”

“I don’t have a habit of climbing buildings, unfortunately.”

“Aww, I was just going to ask you to spot for me next time!”

Neuvillette

Between the administrative work he has and the performances he oversees at court, it’s safe to say that Neuvillette is just relieved to have a bit of simplicity when it comes to you in his everyday life.

There’s no question about the bias he has for you. His affection isn’t falsely given either - how can it be, when Neuvillette returns to see you’ve fallen asleep at the guest seat in his office, waiting for him to head home together after a long day?

When the theatrics of the court finally settle into calm waters, Neuvillette just hopes it means a more regular life for the both of you. Ignoring the times you tease him for being sappy, you’ve always looked at him with a gentleness that hopes he can get more rest. He doesn’t know how to tell you that his ideal scenario includes you as well, having a moment to wind down together with tea and your favorite snacks.

Furina

Needless to say, you were a little more than stressed when Furina announced that she’d like you as her aide.

You were less boring than other people, and fun to drag around and talk to. A part of her was simply flamboyant in nature, but Furina also grew a habit of glancing at your reactions to see if she’s impressed you sometimes.

After a while, you come to realize that there was something lonely about the archon - it’s in the moments where instead of talking your ear off or asking you to join her for another show, she grows silent and simply watches the city around her, like rain on a windowpane, drumming her fingers lightly against her crossed arm.

And just as quickly as the moment settles, it’s gone; replaced by Furina pulling you away by the elbow, impatient for your attention as she pursues the next idea that’s entered her mind.

Maybe, in the same way there are reflective pairs in how hydro works, the both of you find a sense of comfort in your similarities that do not show on the surface, until a ripple disturbs it.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin fontaine #genshin impact furina #genshin focalors #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #furina x reader #genshin navia x reader #genshin impact lyney #lyney x reader #genshin writing #genshin reader insert #traveler wishes

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choism · 9 months

Text

Rough Rider | j.wy

twink!Wooyoung x afab!Reader

Genre: Smut, fluff

Summary: In which you meet a hot twink at a club who has a slightly unhealthy obsession with the 2000's and y2k bimbocore.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: reader is gn, twink wooyoung, top wooyoung, alcohol consumption, reader gets buzzed but not drunk, grinding, makeouts, cunnilingus, bathroom foreplay (pls dont do this), cumming untouched, fingering, wooyoung has pleasure piercings (tongue, nipple, dick), kind of public sex, buttplug usage, unprotected sex (no !), creampie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, cum eating, wooyoung has a huge dick, lots of dirty talk, i went ham with the smut

A/N: IT'S FINALLY HERE! I know I've been teasing this fic for soooo long but after rewriting and editing a ton of times, I finally got it! It's not as long as I'd like it to be but eh, I still think it came out good. If you blame anybody for this ides blame @cheollipop for indulging in dms foe the past month, she is responsible for this rot! Tysm to @pyeonghongrie for beta reading for me mwah mwah and extra special thanks to @atzfilm for creating the banner! I hope you all enjoy and remember to leave feedback!

WOOYOUNG'S SHIRT COLLECTION (Includes both shirts mentioned in the fic!)

The night was brisk with the cold air of fall, leaves falling from the planted trees in the sidewalk. Cars zooming past on the busy street, traffic bustling given it’s nearly 11pm on a Friday night. You and your friends decided to go clubbing, despite the chillier than average weather. They had raved about this brand new queer inclusive club that had opened up nearby and how badly they wanted to go considering the rather lackluster amount of gay clubs in the city. Hearing about a new club piqued your interest, you aren’t one to party much, definitely a more ‘mope at the bar’ kind of person but hey, it’s new and fun and your friends seem to be excited, and that’s enough to get you to go.

The three of you are about to enter the club, excitement coursing through all of your veins.

“We are about to go in! Wanna split or group first?” Your friend says, teeth chattering. Your friends didn’t really dress for the weather, deciding to wear more skimpy, cute outfits despite your protests that they will catch a cold. Admittedly they were cute outfits, but you just couldn’t justify freezing your ass off in this weather. You had opted for something a bit more suitable, a sheer, lace long sleeve undershirt paired with a tight vest, black jeans ripped at the knees, the threads hanging on for dear life and some multi-colored doc martens for added comfort. It was practical, and cute, two of your main goals for today’s adventure. You weren’t really attempting to impress anyway– just wanted some fun with your friends.

“I think we should group at the bar and get a bit more buzzed, pre-game wasn’t enough for me and I need some alcohol to warm me.” Your other friend speaks up, rubbing both of their arms for added emphasis. You all collectively agreed and finally the bouncer let you in, your friend speaks up again, “After a round of shots maybe we can split? I want to go explore a bit, scope the grounds.” They giggle and bump your arm and you laugh in return.

Seated at the bar you order two rounds of shots, one for the buzz, second for fun. You each down your drinks and make faces of disgust, giggling at each other's quirky looks. Soon after, your two friends split off to do their own thing for a while and you decide to sit at the bar, doing a bit of scoping of your own. The crowd is bigger than you thought it would be, definitely more lively and scattered. It’s nice going to a new club and seeing fresh faces and especially being at a more open gay club, the diversity is refreshing. You order a Negroni to sip on while you people watch, not interested in exploring yet and not interested in getting fully drunk. Staying buzzed is how you relax, much to your friends dismay, and much to your dismay your usually the one dragging them home, unless they decide to go home with some stranger for the night.

Sipping the bitter drink you turn back to the crowd. You decide to look over for your friends and see who they’ve decided to unfortunately drag onto the dancefloor and grind into for the night, when your eyes land on probably the most gorgeous man you’ve seen your entire life. He was swaying his hips against a man significantly taller than him, pushing back against him seductively with his arms wrapped behind loosely around his neck. His eyes were shut and clearly enjoying his experience, but that wasn’t what caught your eye. He was beautiful, his long black hair wavy and swept lightly over his eyes, his smile curved mischievously. Looking further down to his outfit, his top cropped showing his pierced navel, and if you squint you can see his, maybe pierced, hardened nipples through the white material.

What really catches your attention are the words on the front of the tee– Rough Rider– in angry bold red cowboy font, a small cowboy hat adorning the large R. You choke a bit on your drink, laughing to yourself.

Really, you don’t expect any less from some twink in an open queer club, but it’s still amusing nonetheless. Once you get over your musings, you continue examining him. He’s wearing the lowest lowrise jeans, barely even covering his pelvis and accentuating the V of his hips and– oh my god, is that a thong? As if he can hear you he turns to face the stranger he was just filthily grinding against and there, you get your answer. A hot pink whale tale poked above his waistline. Curling over his hips sexily. It’s honestly hot and causes you to pick up your drink once again, taking a more hefty sip. Now you also have a full view of his full ass and god, you don’t think you’ve ever been this attracted to some stranger in a club. He’s clearly seductive on purpose, using his feminine wiles to make everyone in the club bow to him, and it’s fucking working.

As if sensing your stare, the man turns around again and shoos off the other guy, opting to feel himself alone on the dancefloor now. But instead of closing his eyes once again, he ends up looking in your direction, directly at you. You look to your left. You look to your right. God damnit. The bar is nearly empty on either side of you. You gulp and sip on your drink, a weak smile painting your lips as the seductive man saunters over, taking a seat next to you. He ignores you at first, ordering a cosmo for himself and watching the bartender make it intently. His drink is set in front of him and he sips it, eyes fluttering as he turns to you.

“So, what’s your name?” He asks, his light voice like heaven. Could this man be any more beautiful?

“It’s y/n, and yours?” You sip again, fluttering your own lashes. It’s not like you dressed like a slob tonight, and you're fairly curious so you play along, wanting to see where this encounter goes. He smiles with his teeth, probably the most mischievous smile you’ve ever seen.

“Wooyoung, Jung Wooyoung.” Wooyoung crosses his legs and leans more into the bar. “So what brings you here? You don’t seem like the dancing type, and you’ve been at the bar this entire time.” Has he been watching you?

“My friends wanted to come because it’s a new club, and I wasn’t opposed.” Yes, seem disinterested, that’ll hook him. You mentally slap yourself. The stranger- no, Wooyoung giggles. He stirs the stick in his drink, swirling around the pink edible glitter he asked the bartender to put in specifically.

“Well, y/n, maybe instead of sitting here ogling strangers, why don’t you dance with me a bit?” He smirks and takes the stick into his teeth, nibbling at it. You nod your head in agreement and he swiftly hops from the bar, grabbing your hand and guiding you onto the dancefloor. You can hear his giggle as he leads you into the crowd and it’s endearing.

Instead of grinding on you however, as you had expected from watching him earlier, he spins you around so your back is flush to his chest. He doesn’t move his hips against you though, probably waiting for you to consent first by flirting more. Instead he places his hands on your hips and sways the both of you to the beat of the music. A few minutes of swaying and you're bored, you never really dance and you want to see where this could go, so you lightly press your ass back into his crotch to chase some sort of friction. You can hear his breath hitch for a second, before you feel him lean forward a bit, “How far do you want to take this, sweetheart.” Now it’s turn for your breath to hitch.

You fully press your ass into his now semi hard member, still moving your hips to the beat. “As far as you’ll let me.” You stutter over your own words a bit, and are honestly surprised by your own boldness. You can practically feel him smirk against your neck, his breath fanning of it .

“Whatever you’d like, I’m yours for the night.” He kisses along your neck and fully rolls his hips into your butt, his movements precise to pleasure you in the best way possible. His hips dip underneath your shirt and it feels like time stops, like you are the only two people in this entire club. If you could, you would let him take you right here, in front of everyone.

“B-bathroom, please, now.” You barely mutter out and he takes your hand, intertwining your fingers with his as he drags you to the club bathrooms.

Since it’s a new club, the bathroom is actually fairly clean and you breathe a sigh of relief. You’ll be damned if you have sex in an unhygienic place. Wooyoung shoves you into a stall and immediately presses his lips into yours, feverishly kissing you as if he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment. You return his kiss and slip your tongue into his mouth, he moans loudly and grins, sucking on your teeth.

He presses his now fully hardened crotch into your pelvis, grinding down slightly to chase a bit of friction, then he pulls away and you whimper. “God fuck your so hot, let me eat you out please.” He says desperately, as if it’s his life’s mission to give you head.

“Yes yes, please, yes god.” You start to unbutton your jeans and you immediately regret your decision to wear them, the tight material barely sliding down your legs. Wooyoung drops to his knees and kisses your bare thighs, stroking them lightly in anticipation. Your underwear is still on and he can see how soaked you are through the material, showing a damp spot over the front.

“So wet for me baby, wanna make you feel so good.” He places gentle kisses over your clothed pussy, sending shivers down your spine.

“Wooyoung, please.” Needing no more instruction, he pulls your underwear down with his teeth and your core is now exposed to the air. He licks against your thigh, then the other one, teasing you before he finally places open mouth kisses against your clit. Your hand flies to his thick head of hair, pulling a bit at the euphoria. He suckles and licks against your clit like he’s a master at it, bringing his thick fingers up to prod at your folds and tease your entrance. He doesn’t hesitate, slicking up one of his fingers with his spit and sliding it into your dripping hole with ease, curling it a bit to give you maximum pleasure. You moan, not caring for the other people in the bathroom. They are all probably fucking each other too.

You look down for the first time directly at the scene, taking in how his hair falls to the front of his face, his veiny arms flexing with each twist of his thick, long fingers. God, his fingers are like cock. You didn’t know a twink could have such nice hands but you’ll never doubt yourself ever again. He’s not fucking into you forcefully but opting you curl at your g spot, deriving the most pleasure out of you as possible. He moans against your clit. Was he getting off on this? He wasn’t touching himself, one of his hands in your pussy, the other on your thigh. God that’s hot.

As if the worst timing ever, you hear a ding from your phone, then another, then another. You don’t tell Wooyoung to stop, opting to quickly look at your notifications.

Friend 1: where is y/n? why aren’t they at the bar :((

Friend 2: dunno may b they r getting fucked lol

Friend 1: yea right

y/n: busy, not coming home

Friend 1: OHMYGOD OHMYGOD

Friend 2: Y/N ARE U GETTIN DICKED DOWN RN ????

Friend 1: ITS ABOUT DAMN TIME

You set your phone down, not even bothering to read the slurry of texts they sent after yours because you're too focused on your own pleasure at the moment. You look back down and Wooyoung seems wholly unbothered, also seemingly too focused on getting you off. Now that you're paying attention again, you can feel your orgasm building fast, and as if he can sense it too he adds in two more fingers, curling into your pussy harder and bringing you closer to your finish. You're gonna come, you can feel it, the hot band expanding and about to snap. Has it even been 15 minutes? When was the last time someone made you come this fast.

Soon, you feel it hit you, and it hits hard. Your thighs convulse on either side of Wooyoung’s head and you can feel the wetness rush through. Wooyoung lets out a slurry of really loud moans that vibrate through your core, overstimulating you a bit. You push his head away once you feel too much and he sits back onto his heels.

You look down to see a very visible wet spot on his jeans.

“Did you-”

“Yeah, you just tasted so fucking good, couldn’t help myself sweetheart.”

Oh my god, he came untouched from eating you out. Fuck, that’s hot.

He smirks and stands back up, “Why don’t we get out of here so I can make you feel even better, hm?” Kind of dazed and shocked, you nod your head and get dressed again, and he pulls you out of the bathroom, then out of the club doors, calling an uber.

***

Soon the both of you arrive at his apartment, he fumbles with the keys a bit but he opens the door, and you are met with a sight.

His entire apartment is 2000s themed. This man isn’t a twink, he’s a bimbo, and somehow that’s hotter. The couch is a deep dark velvet leopard print material, there's fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, a pink lava lamp on a bookshelf in the living room. Random posters littering the walls. It was honestly cool and interesting. Wait. This is a one night stand. You can’t be interested, duh!

“Sorry my apartment is a bit trashy, do you want some water before we continue?” He says lightheartedly, you didn’t know he could be polite. It’s cute. You mumble yes and he tosses you a water bottle from his pink fridge, and you take note of the Bratz magnet holding his grocery list and you snicker to yourself. He leads you to his bedroom which is surprisingly a bit more tame, littered with figurines of all kinds. Well, the Monster High dolls neatly organized on the shelf aren't exactly tame, but it doesn’t bother you, so it’s fine. His sheets are cheetah print, silk, and as you lay on them you forget the outrageous pattern and focus on how nice they feel, how much better it would feel underneath you as Wooyoung fucks you.

“It isn't overwhelming, is it? I know I kind of have an obsession…” Wooyoung trails off, clearly a bit nervous about the way his interests have overtaken his apartment. “A lot of my partners tend to be taken aback.” He frowns, setting his own bottle of water on the nightstand next to his bed. He sits next to you on his bed and it bounces a bit with the added weight.

“Why would that bother me? I think it’s cute, and these sheets are nice.” You wiggle your eyebrows suggestively and he fully laughs, a blush dusting his cheeks. You can see a look of contemplation sweep his expression briefly, before he grins and pins you to the bed.

“Hm enough talk, let me please you some more sweetheart.” He kisses from your chest to your neck, suckling lightly and most definitely leaving a small mark. “Are you clean?” He asks between kisses along your jaw, making his way to your mouth.

“Yes, are you?” He grins wildly and finally kisses harshly against your lips.

“I am darling, are you okay with me filling you up, nice and full.” His choice of words are so hot, it sends a wave of heat through you. He places his thigh in between yours, pressing into your core roughly. “You’d like that, me filling you up with my cum, fucking into you properly. I’d bet you look so pretty on my cock sweetheart, trembling beneath me.” You moan into his mouth as he presses his thigh harder, before pulling back to take off his shirt. You were right, he does have nipple piercings. And actually, maybe you were too buzzed at the time, but you're just now noticing the cool metal that slides against your tongue with each press of his own. Holy shit he has a tongue piercing too.

You wonder if he has any more.

You sit up to take off your clothes as well, discarding them to the side and leaving you in your underwear. You didn’t wear any sort of bralette or bra, never thinking you would get any action, so you're left in your panties. Wooyoung shimmies out of his clothes too, but he makes a show of taking off his jeans. Oh that’s right, the thong. He turns, his back facing you, as he slowly pulls them down, revealing the bright thong. It hugs his ass so nice and oh my god that’s a buttplug. You’ve literally never felt more wet in your entire life. He takes off his thong and turns his head, “Wanna take it out for me?” He asks innocently and you groan. You crawl to the edge of the bed and pull his hips to the edge, eliciting a squeal from the small man.

Making a show of it, you twist the plug a bit, slowly moving it in and out and he whimpers, before you pull it out fully. His hole gasps around the emptiness and he finally turns around, if you weren't shocked before, you're definitely shocked now. His cock is hard and leaking, for one it’s huge and thick and veiny, the pink tip dripping precum and beading onto, you guessed it, a cock piercing, a prince albert pierced through his thick head and collecting the drips of precum. You look up and he smirks, “Like what you see?” he climbs onto the bed and you scooch against the headboard.

“Fuck yes, god Wooyoung please just, please fuck me already.” He licks a stripe from your navel to your sternum, making a show of tasting you. Wooyoung reaches over to grab a bottle of lube conveniently already on top of the nightstand, drizzling some into his hands and warming it up before slicking up his cock. He spills some onto your pussy, the cold liquid sending shivers down your spine before warming up to the feeling as he spreads it around, rubbing over your clit a few times.

“‘m gonna make you feel so good baby, make you feel so full.” He whispers as he lines himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing inside and god you can feel every inch as he pushes, filling you to the brim, his cock twitches inside of you a few times and finally he bottoms out.

“So big…..fuck.” You whine, wrapping your arms around him and clawing at his back. His cock is so big it barely fits, it stings a bit but it feels so good.

“Gonna move now okay? Let me know if anything hurts.” He moves out and you gasp, the feeling of him dragging along your walls feels so good, so so good, you haven’t had sex this good in, well, ever. He pulls out about half way before pushing back in, going slow so you can adjust to his length. The lube and your slick helps immensely, and soon he picks up his pace a bit. Wooyoung licks and sucks at your neck, shoulders, collarbones, and chest, leaving plenty of lovemarks and hickeys. The pleasure is rushing through your body, between his mouth all over you, the metal of his piercing dragging along your skin, and his large cock– the metal of his dick gliding along your walls– you feel your orgasm approach fast.

“Fuck, fuck faster Youngie, please more wan’ more.” You cry, tears stinging your eyes. The nickname slips out but it does it’s job, and he fucks into you harder, raising your leg onto his should to get a better angle. Wooyoung fucks directly into your g spot, the piercing atop the head of his cock feels so delicious, so so full. “Youngie gonna come, so close please.”

“Fuck baby, gonna come too, wanna fill you up so good with my cum.” He pants, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. Wooyoung brings a hand to your clit and rubs in a back and forth motion, bringing you to the edge, the band that mended earlier snapping once again as you cum all over his cock. He doesn’t stop, fucking you past your orgasm. The overstimulation is too much but at the same time, and you feel a rush, a wet heat builds alarmingly fast and then you feel a gushing wetness, like your peeing.

“Fucking shit, squirt all over my cock sweetheart, jesus.”

“Woo- Wooyoung fuck huh feels good please!” While squirting Wooyoung finishes inside, as promised he fills you up with his cum and god it’s so much, never ending hot ropes filling you up and spilling from the sides onto the sheets as he fucks you through your second orgasm. The both of you are panting as you come down from your highs. Wooyoung slips out of you and you clench around nothing, his come spilling out a bit. He bends down and laps at his own cum quickly, trying not to overstimulate you any further, but trying to clean you up.

“Fuck y/n that was so good, that was the most I’ve ever cum.” He chuckles, getting up to grab a damp washcloth to clean you up, and lifting you out of bed and knot the small couch in his room so he can change the sheets. You help yourself to his drawers and ‘borrow’ a pair of boxers and a shirt. You don’t even look at the shirt, just grabbing some random one. Wooyoung comes back in with fresh sheets and looks at your shirt, drooping them on the floor to double over cackling.

“What? What's so funny.” You frown. Wooyoung points at your shirt and you look down, reading it upside down. “I heart submissive men?” You giggle, “Why do you have so many shirts like this?” You question, quirking a brow.

“Why, did you want one?” He laughs as he changes the sheets and plops onto the bed, patting the spot next to him. You curl up next to him, glad he isn’t kicking you out.

“What if I just kept this one, I like it, maybe I do like submissive men.” He snorts,

“Didn’t seem like that 10 minutes ago when you were underneath me, moaning my name.” You elbow his ribs and he fakes his pain, being dramatic.

“Well, maybe next time I want to be on top!” You huff and turn onto your back, staring at the ceiling. Huh, cute glow in the dark stars. Everything about him is so endearing, and draws you in.

He laughs and turns over next to you, propping an elbow underneath his head, “Who says there’s gonna be a next time?” He questions, genuinely curious. You turn over to him and place a gentle kiss on his lips,

“I do.”

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #jung wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung smut #wooyoung smut #k labels

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sherlockig · 4 months

Text

Hello my little grieving friends (aka my CREW!)

I just want to talk about how much our flag means death has given me. I have not had internet friends since i were a teenager. They all kind of disapeared over time in the same way as high school classmates went away. I have been on this blog on tumblr since 2010 and i have never experienced what ofmd has given me. Not even in my very derranged ca 5 year long sherlock-era did i get to befriend and know this many amazing people who live in my phone. Some of you have come and gone and that is life, but some of you are still here and I hope I get to keep you here for a very long time. Max can not stop us and I want to be here with you until tumblr is put down like the beloved rabid pet it is.

I think we are all taking the news very hard and I think it's important to remember what it is all about really. It's about love and family and above all else the crew so i just want to show some love for my beloved mutuals. And i hope maybe some of you will be inspired to do the same because its what we need in these dark times. We need to be a lighthouse guiding each other to shore.

First of all @gentlebeard - Ella💕 my beloved honey 🍯 I can not explain properly or even believe how lucky I am that I found you and that I get a little good morning from you every day. We have been talking every single day since the first message over a year ago and I don't remember or want to remember how i survived before that. I will treasure the time i spent drinking pina coladas on your balcony in the sun forever and i hope i will get some more time on that balcony this summer. I have found a pirate bar in Sweden so we can continue our expensive pirate drinks theme that we started in Berlin. There is no one else i want to spend 6-8 hours talking to over the phone.💕My partner in crime, lasagna partner and floor person or whatever nicknames we have come up with during this time. You are not just the perfect friend to have, you are also funny, sweet, smart and a expert at making fanvideos that make me cry my heart out and laugh my lungs up - sometimes at the same time 💕💕

@blakbonnet - Meow my darling💕 you were the first one i really started to talk to in the fandom and i am so glad i did. You brighten my days and i love talking to you you brilliant humanbeing (i often find myself thinking i have listened to much to cabin pressure because i struggle to use any other word than brilliant to explain things.. the Arthur runs deep in me) also thank you for being my personal skincare guide in life!! Your fics, your art, your edits, your gifs, your meta the whole you make my dash a better place and we are all happy to have you! There is nothing you are not good at and i am both a bit jealus and impressed by you. Its Meows fandom we all just live in it 💕💕

@youshouldseemeinadeerstalker - Nes my dear💕 We may not be talking very often but I know I always have you there. I loved our vacation together and we had so much to talk about that we didn't even realize that the same song kept playing in my car so long that it messed up my spotify wrapped. It was amazing taking naps with you outside ruins of castles and in botanical gardens and living together in the worlds smallest hotel room. I hope we can get lost together in more cities than Hamburg and Copenhagen. (preferably without rain and sickness and maybe with a map) 💕💕

@darkinerry - Marlena 💕 its a pleasure getting weather and work updates from you and i am always interested in knowing what you have been up to and what you have to say. It brightens my day, please never stop!! Your videos and gifsets can make any day better and you are always kind and funny which are two things i appreciate hugely in my friends!! 💕💕 + You have the coolest haircut out of all my mutuals 😌

@aha-my-villainous-thoughts - Ash my wife💕 my love💕Nothing can make me scream, blush and giggle as much as your fanart. You have this style of everything you make from fanart to dolls to interior design that is so special and breathtaking. One day we will drink so many lattes in a cosy cafe and then sniff lush products for the rest of the day. 💕 You are always there for me - as a online shoulder to cry on or to motivate me with the smuttiest wips ever. I am happy to be mutual married to you 💕💕

@bizarrelittlemew - Ida 💕- my thirsting for rhys brother in arms. I can not imagine tumblr without your gifs or your posts. I love screaming with you over a picture of rhys darbys bicep. I am so happy i got to meet you this summer and i really hope it will happen again. We are not that far from each other, just some miles and a stupid bridge; we can make it. You are always a sweetheart and an incredible friend who write the hottest fanfiction ever💕💕

@dickfuckk - josh 💕 (who I also thought for a long time was called tyler) I dont know where the fandom would be without your bts blog! its a international treasure and a service to humanity. i don't know how you do it. 💕You always have everything i have ever been looking for and as a bonus you are witty and funny like no one else. I am so happy i got to meet you and spend a whole day in your company! 💕

@izzy-b-hands - Holden my absolute darling!💕 I am so glad I got the chance to get to know you! You are smart, funny and kind and my izzy mutual tm. You are always there for me with kind words and I am still forever shipping izzy and the third badminton brother which I think is the best headcanon I have ever helped coming up with. 💕

@funforahermit - Kristina 💕 Your love for Rhys and your gifs are a staple on tumblr and my dash. I know where to go when i need someone to understand how hot Steve is (even if we have agreed that he is yours and Murray is mine which i still think is a fine deal). I very often make or see a picture of Rhys and my first thought is "I NEED TO SHOW KRISTINA THIS" so you live rentfree in my brain 💕

@rainbowcrowley - Addi 💕If i ever start playing wow again you bet i am gonna be talking your ear off about my little frost mages progress but in the meantime i am happy to have you on my dash and even if we don't talk that much are you a beloved part of my dash and brighten it daily.💕💕

@fandomsmeantheworldtome - Maria💕 You were one of the very first people i found in this fandom and your gifs might have helped my rhys obession taking form. You might be into many things I have never heard of but its a pleasure seeing your excitement over everything. You are always a ray of sunshine and i love that so much💕💕

@tabbystardust - Tabby dear💕 You are the kindest person I know who I always get the strongest need to hug and hold close. Your fanart is beyond this world and i adore it like nothing else. Its always both hot and soft in the best way ever💕 I am always excited to get kitty updates and to hear about your ramen receipts. I hope we can still meet at the con next year! I am game if you are!! 💕💕

@hummingbee-o0o - Humming 💕 (i dont know your name sorry) I am always excited to hear your thoughts and metas about everything ofmd related as well as your beautiful art. 💕 it was a pleasure to scream about season 2 after every watched episode!💕

@xoxoemynn - Emy 💕💕 i am so happy to be mutual with you! 💕You always bring joy to the people who get to be around you and fill my dash with the same. We might not talk often but i know you got my back! That is the kind of person you are!💕

@saltpepperbeard - Jodi💕 No one write tags on tumblr dot com like you. There is nothing that can cheer me up more than see that one of my posts has gotten a whole ass novel written in the tags and then i instinctively know that its you who have left your wonderful mark. You are always excited and such a lovely human to be mutual with. 💕 And on top of that you make incredible gifs that make my heart stop!!! 💕💕

@autumnbois - Kai 💕💕 I hope you are doing okay. We might not talk much right now but you were there for me when i needed it most and you are a good friend to have living in my phone.💕💕 I will think of you whenever i see something related to scream and your love for piccrew always make me smile💕

@edsbacktattoo - Jams, jams jams! 💕 We are never online at the same time because of the damn time differences *shakes fist* but you are a staple in this fandom. Your art is incredible and you are the sweetest cookie in the jar. You are funny and always spread good energy to everyone around you and I love that with my whole heart💕💕

@kiwistede - Sam 💕 Your love for stede and rhys is unmet and i love you for that. You are always a good source for some rhys darby insanity and we all know that is what i treausure most here in life! 💕💕

@stedesearring - Kaitlin💕 You are the sweetest and kindest soul out here always spreading joy and love like the sun of my dash. 💕 I always love seeing you and i am happy to have the pleasure to have you as a friend in my phone! 💕💕

@stedebonnets - Ara 💕 Where would we be without your gifs?? without your joy?? without your blog?? without you?? No one knows! I am so happy to call you a mutual and friend and you always bring a smile to my face. Always!!💕💕

@appleteeth - Liz 💕 No one is quite as normal about rhys darby as you and it a pleasure to watch! Speaking of pleasure.. your fic the slightest touch is an all time favorite of mine and i would be embarrassed to tell you how many times i have read it... you are one of my mutuals that i am baffled that they want to follow me. Its a privilege! 💕

@as-a-creww - Caroline dear 💕 You are a beloved mutual and your blog are a permanent part of my dash and i want to keep it like that! you are the friendliest of the friendliest and what is more important than that?? 💕💕

@nandorisms - Ed dear💕 Your shameless reblogs makes the world go around. You are always sweet and a much needed wwdits addition to my life. I count you as a dear friend living in my heart!💕

@londonlock - Londie! 💕💕 The only sherlock mutual i have left and i am very happy to have kept you! 💕 I might have left those days behind me but you know as well as i that sherlock lives in my soul and seeing some sherlock and john love on a daily basis keep me grounded and on top of that are you such a romantic and beautiful human being! 💕💕

@follovver - Tanya 💕 My fellow Swedish ofmd fan! I am very happy to have found you! its nice to be able do discuss it in my mother tongue and i hope we one day can do it live! its to bad we never met when we went to the same uni (or maybe we did but didn't know) Du är fantastisk!! 💕

@wastingyourgum - Al💕(which i always read in my head as artificial intelligence and giggle because it make me feel like you are a robot) My fellow rhys friend. You bring me doses of darby when its most needed and your blog is always on fleek 💕💕

@xray-vex - Xray 💕 100 % one of my funniest mutuals!💕💕 You make hilarious posts that no one else could even dream of coming up with! Always top tier blog content and what more can a girl ask for??💕

@jellybeanium124 - Nina💕 I can not imagine my blog without you! Your posts are always a delight and you are so nice and sweet and funny and incredible (even when you make math mistakes kisses kisses) You bring a honest joy into the fandom that we could not live without! 💕💕

@thunderwingdoomslayer - Nellie 💕 My official rhys darby gif provider who I come to as if i needed a new hit of an illegal substance. I salute you and thank you for your service!💕💕

@forestofsprites - Green my dear 💕You might have gone from ofmd to be the supernatural provider of my dash but that does not stop you from being the kindest forest spirit i know. Your presence is calming in a way i can not explain and i am glad to have you and your love for meg here.💕💕

@cheersmequeers - Kate💕💕 A big puzzle piece to bring my dash together. Always filling it with my favorite gay pirates and i love having you here. Always friendly and full of love.💕💕

@sugashook - Sugaaa💕💕 You know i am in love with your art! Your art is always on top and it bring me back to life every time. I keep the dress i bought from you on the outside of my closet so every morning its the first thing i see and it sets the day right!💕💕 I wear your art on my tshirt to the gym as often as i can hoping to lure in a ofmd fan between the weights but that has not happened yet sadly!! Never stop making your art!! The world would be at loss if that happened 💕💕

@lacefuneral - Jay 💕(should be called YAY because that is what i say when i see a new selfie or fashion post from you) You are a fantastic friend and i love your love for stede and you are always kind and patient in a way that makes me comfortable to ask you questions about something i might not be familiar with. You are forever my moth mutual in my mind 💕💕

@meanmisscharles - Charles 💕 In my head i call you charles but i don't think that is your name but i hope its okay with you! Always friendly and sweet but ready to fight the bullshit the other spread! and such a source for good music recommendations!! 💕💕

@forpiratereasons - Darcy 💕literary no one does it like Darcy! Aways bringing the best ofmd posts to my dash and ensuring i don't miss anything! You are incredible! 💕💕

@blackbeardskneebrace - Miles my dear 💕 You make incredible art both the cute and amazing ofmd art but also the gorgeous historical art you post. Its a pleasure to see you talk about history but also about our beloved gay pirates. Your snoopy ofmd art will live in my heart forever and i think it might be healing me a bit. Maybe even watering my crops and clearing my skin! And those valentine ofmd arts from last year. I am 100 % gonna bring them back this February like beloved decorations you store in the attic. 💕💕💕

@awkward-fallen-angel - Heather 💕 You are one of the sweetest people i have had the pleasure to come across. You bring a big excitement and attention to the things you like and it moves along to everyone near. I mean i have watched long critical role videos just because you spoke so warmly about them and i wanted to know what it meant. I love having you here. 💕💕

@mxmollusca - Mx 💕 (dont know your name so i am just calling you that) I mean you are an incredible writer. I have only managed to read ifwts once because i cried so much that i am scared to open it again because i might just never stop crying. You are creative and funny and absolutely totally normal about rhys darby which in my book is a very good thing to be. And besides that you are a very friendly and nice mutual who is always a pleasure to interact with. 💕💕

@poisonintopositivity - Lilias💕 We have not talked much but we have been mutuals for a very long time and i hope you know that i appreciate you greatly as a mutual and you always but the best posts on my dash!💕💕

@glam-hutchence - Birb 💕💕my dear bird lover! You are a sweet potatoe and i love reading about your love for music and the concerts you go to.💕 Its so nice to take a little part of your life. You are always there for me and i always get happy when i talk to you. You are like a little happy pill! 💕💕

@turtles-on-turts - Turts 💕 Whenever i see a turtle i think about you. Its your brand! You make amazing art! and the ones on canvas always blow me away. 💕💕 Its incredible. You are also so very pretty and i have that picture of you in your depression robe with all the pigeons imprinted in my mind because it such a cute one. You are always very friendly and i love reading your personal posts as well. 💕💕

@vonlipwig - Franky 💕 You bring me lots of normality about rhys darby but these days also a huge bunch of normality about david tennant which i appreciate a lot. You are very nice and i stand by my assesment that you have a very cool aura!💕💕

@haeva - Mar my beloved💕 You bring me my wifes emily and valkyrie and a bunch of amazing posts about everything i can imagine. You are loving and sweet and good at maths which i am always very impressed by. I love being your mutual and doing ask games with you is a pleasure!💕💕

@mykonossalome - Myko💕 When i see moomin i think of you because i know how much you love it. We dont talk as much as i would like but the interactions we have had has meant a lot to me and i love seeing you posting about the things you love! 💕💕

@cottoncandiescupcakes - Cupcake 💕 I love that you are always so excited over our boy the swede and its a pleasure to compare language with you. We can continue fighting if the swede belong to the dutch or the swedes but that is a pleasure!💕💕

@mister-brightside - Andrea my dear💕. Your art is always perfect and whenever i see a picture of izzy giving the middle finger i think about you! Its your brand and its your picture now and no one can change that. You are sweet and caring and a lovely mutual to have. thank you!💕💕

@merryfinches - Kylie 💕 What can i say more than that i ADORE your fanart. The colours the style the softness of it all is exactly what we all need in these times. Every single time it shows up on my dash it makes my heart grows softer and my love grow stronger! I love it so so much. 💕

@ofmd-ann - Ann 💕 You glorious glorious gifmaker! Your gifs are always beautiful and these last days you have saved me with your wrecked edits. As a supplier of rhys darby gifs i love you forever. You are a hero love. 💕💕

@usersukuna - Bia 💕You are a gif magician. Your gifs are perfect and you are also very kind and sweet and i am so glad i can call you a mutual! You light up tumblr like no one else and i am always happy to see you on my dash.💕💕

If you are not in this list it does not mean that i dont love you or have forgotten about you it means that tumblr has put a limit to how many people you can tag which sucks. But if i follow you then it means i love and appreciate you. 💕💕💕 And you know what? We will make it through this hard and trying times of greedy streaming services putting an end to our gay pirates show. I love you all and you know what??

We will make it through as A CREW!

#i might have spent half my work day on this because i am sad and can not concentrate so please dont tell my boss #personal #my beloved mutuals #renew as a crew #i am just very filled with love for you all #for this fandom #💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

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bestygogirl · 3 months

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BEST YGO GIRL: SEMI FINALS

Match 2

please use this as an opportunity to say why you like a character, not why you don't.

Propaganda under the cut!

Isis Ishtar

gorgeous, very caring sister, strong duelist, and the only woman to ever make Seto Kaiba squirm

anyways. not only as mentioned above is she the first woman to make kaiba squirm, but she was by all means going to beat him if not for the millennium rod's millennium interference. yami marik admits that she's a strong duelist with a strategy that's been working for literal years-- and given that she's not like, a professional duelist, thats pretty impressive

she also recently got some really cool meta bumps and let me point out that an "ishizu deck" now includes obelisk the tormentor-- which we knew she had prior to giving it to kaiba, but i think it only solidifies my opinion that she very much could wield an Egyptian God Card, an exclusive little club for top tier duelists

as a character she presents herself with an amazing amount of poise and grace, shes compassionate and kind and stays with mai and serenity even though she only just met them. shes struggling through living the past 5 years of her life drowning in guilt for her family's tragedy just because she wanted to make her little brother happy and shadi is a fucking liar. shes foretold her own death and marches towards it grimly but with so much love in her heart. and even then shes 20 years old and holds an important position in the egyptian government that typically requires a doctorate degree AND has been dealing with mariks off-and-on bullshit entirely by her lonesome. she also likes to flex her fortunetelling a little which is awesome i think she should do that more that scene where she tells the guy exactly how the stele is being transported was so everything

speaking of shes got such an attitude. "is it your destiny to waste my time?" iconic. never seen before will never be seen again. watch the duel between her va and joeys its so fucking funny

shes excult. shes doesnt flinch in the face of god nor death. seto kaiba and yami marik respect her. shes so sad and so sweet and battle city couldnt have happened without her.

also her parallels with kaiba are what motivate kaiba to give yugi the card he needed to beat marik.

kaiba, in duelist kingdom, was ready to jump off a ledge if yugi didnt let him through to face pegasus while trying to save mokuba out of sheer desperation to save his little brother. he KNOWS what that dedication feels like and the iron kind of will you need to have to make that kind of gamble. isis is being so fucking legit with what shes saying and he respects that and her judgement enough to change his mind and not only watch the duel, but give yugi a card that eventually helps him win, even if he has no real confidence in the odds. but theres a CHANCE, which is the same thing he taught her when he beat her in a duel. the layers its her faith that moves him to act. which is so crazy

anyway vote isis shes my best friend forever and a real rep for all the 20 year olds who honest to god did not sign up for this bullshit

Aki Izayoi

An abuse victim who isn't the perfect passive figure but gets to work through her complicated feelings about power, agency, and family. Even with Yusei's help, she is the star of the show when she learns to control her powers and reconciles with her father, it is so fun that a ygo heroine gets to take such an antagonistic role bu not be shamed for her anger

please vote for my main girl, aki izayoi. aki was led to believe she was a monster from a young age by her father, who treated her powers like it made her unworthy of love. as a result, divine was able to swoop in and take advantage of aki's low self esteem. for years, aki believed herself unworthy of love and was molded into a living weapon at the hands of authority figures in her life. she was taken advantage of, and thus when she finally comes face to face with yusei, she refuses to believe he could provide her with unconditional friendship. who would want to be around a monster, after all?

aki also nearly beats yusei TWICE in a duel, bringing it down to a single turn difference. she comes toe to toe with him, and it truly is the result of who dueled better. she remains a fierce duelist, btw. the second season, aki gets her duel runner license, and immediately nearly beats the ass of a tournament winning turbo duelist - to the point where once again, a single card is the deciding factor. that's right: she nearly won. if not for a single trap card, aki izayoi would've won.

a fierce duelist who was shaped into a loving, caring woman despite years of being beaten down by the world: aki izayoi. vote for her now on your phones.

#best ygo girl poll #semifinals #yugioh duel monsters #isis ishtar #ishizu ishtar #yugioh 5ds #aki izayoi #akiza izinski

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 10 months

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Crossfire - Pt 1 Jack Reacher (Alan Ritchson) x F/AFAB! Reader.

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given. Specific Warnings: This is pure smut with story (but it’s mostly about the smut), Size kink, teasing, mutual pining, angst, P in V unprotected (birth control and trust re STI’s(get checked up and keep your partners informed frens)), drinking, swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of war/war fighting, mentions of PTS/PTSD, trauma, military terminology, strip teasing, rough sex, size kink, (small) praise kink, feisty Reader. No mention of Y/N, Reader has nicknames, Teach/Bambi, was in the army with reacher, still doing covert stuff as a mercenary. This is a one shot, but might look at more instalments if people like it. Wordcount: 5,829

Summary: You run into Reacher after years apart. The flames that once burned inside you are ash, but the way he looks at you could start a forest fire.

Author’s Notes: I love Alan Ritchson and having watched Fast X and Reacher recently well… There’s an itch I want him to scratch.

Crossfire

The shitty inner-city bar was loud, too loud. Your ears ring as you watch the banker-bros and their dates laughing it up as they dance without rhythm to the modest-at-best live band. You worry at the label on your third beer bottle. The discarded shredded paper piling up as you try and calm your nerves.

“You doing alright there Teach?” Frankie, Frances Neagley, asks as she slides into the high stool opposite you. Her hair is pulled back in a tie, her olive drab denim tucked close against her as she twitches as people move too close to her, yet not close enough to touch her.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that.” You sigh, shaking your head at the nickname that had stuck since West Point between you, Neagley, and Reacher.

“Do you prefer Bambi? We can call you that if you want?” Reacher’s deep rumble sets off a warmth in your spine you’ve tried to push from you mind for years. You swivel on your stool to take in the bull of a man that is raking his analytical blue-green eyes all over you. You mirror his analysis, taking in the new scars, harder lines on his face.

He’s aged faster than his years.

You think to yourself as you flip him the bird.

“That was one time, Teach at least has provenance.” You scoff, hating both nicknames but at least Teach was rooted in renown.

“How you holding up?” He asks you. With the way he’s looking at you, he’s clearly aware of the mercenary missions you’ve been on, even though he had been out of the force for some time. You’re unsurprised but it still bothers you how honed in on your life he always is.

“Nothing to report Sir,” You hiss, emphasising the last word to dig at him, “If you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.” Reacher has his hooks into you, always able to press your buttons.

“Hey,” Frankie interjects, shooting Reacher a venomous glare before turning back to you, “You can leave if you want, but don’t let him be the reason, he’s not worth it.”

“I’m standing right here.” Reacher says matter-of-factly as he looks between the two of you.

“You’re kind of hard to miss,” You scoff, rolling your eyes but you look back at Frankie and relent, “Alright, Reacher, stay out of my way, I want to have a good time tonight.” You glower at him and the softest, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth has you cursing your own stubbornness. You should never had agreed to meet, and even then the moment he turned up you should have bugged out and high-tailed it home.

“Yes Ma’am.” He says softly before stepping away and blending into the swirling mass of the crowd. You try not to allow yourself to be impressed at the ease at which he could do that, considering his bulk and height.

“You two ever actually fuck?” Frankie asks you and you almost choke on the dregs of your beer.

“No, never, fucking hell Neagley, you trying to kill me?” You splutter, well aware that you’re far too flustered. Reacher notices it too and you see the vein on his neck pop as he stifles a triumphant smile.

“You should have, would’ve made things easier.” She shrugs as she takes another swig of her beer.

“That’s rich coming from you.” You needle back, knowing well that your relationship was tight knit enough to make that joke.

“Fair, but you’re a slutty little bisexual, either fuck him and get it over and done with or get over yourself.” Frankie says with a twitch of her lips. She has you there. The only thing that ever stopped you from fucking Reacher was your own ego.

“Fuck you.” You grumble as you gesture between your empty drinks before asking the obvious, “You want another?”

“As long as you’re buying.” Frankie says with a dazzling smile.

“Always, be back in a flash.” You say with a smirk. You love Frankie, you’d even, sort-of kind-of, dated for a while when you left the service, but Frankie being such a haptephobiac scuppered things for you both. You loved each other dearly but you’re a tactile, sexual person, and having to supress your own instincts wasn’t healthy for either of you. But it didn’t stop you loving one another, and that was something neither of you denied, you just expressed it differently, and that was ok.

You make your way to the bar, waiting patiently as the other, dressed up women got served before you. You’d grown used to it, you never dressed up, not for weddings, not for funerals, not for anyone. It had it’s perks, but in a bar, it meant you were served when you were served. You drum your fingers on the edge of the bar after a while, slowly getting tired of waiting.

“Hey,” Reacher’s low rumble makes you shiver as his large form cages you in. His navy shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as you see the firm, thick cords of his forearms hem you in as his large hands rest on the bar, “How’s Civvy life treating you?” He breathes into the shell of your ear as you shudder beneath him.

“Shit, I can’t be as lucky as you and land myself in the middle of murder investigations and big ol’ conspiracies like you J.” You say, using the nickname you know he hates.

“It cost me a brother, so I don’t know if you can call that luck.” He growls against your skin as he inches forward slowly. You feel the brush of his fucking marbled pecs against your shoulders as he tries to draw you in. This was a dance you had both done many times, riling the other up, pushing the limits to breaking point. But there was always an angle, exploiting each other’s vulnerabilities to get what you wanted, or needed.

It’s the toxic part of your relationship with Reacher you never allow yourself to admit to, but it’s also the only thrill you get anymore. Years of the brass putting warfighting over warfighters meant you were numb to just about any stimulus. Except Reacher.

“Fair,” You nod, trying to keep your mind clear as your whole body screams to push back against Reacher, goad him on so he can finally give you what you’ve craved for over a decade, “But we both know you’re not here for sentimentality and feelings.” You breathe, trying so damned hard not to grind back against him.

He wants something, whatever this is will cost you.

“Correct.” He grumbles before a hand falls from the bar, resting against your hip instead, “Tell me to stop, tell me you don’t want this and I’ll walk away.” He pants against the clammy skin of your neck as you try to wrestle control from the primal part of your brain that would let him rail you right now, against the bar in front of everyone.

“Why now?” You ask, the logical part of your brain interrupting at just the wrong time, you want to take it back, let Jack play his game, maybe let him win for once, then let him fuck you into oblivion but that simple question shatters the illusion.

“Never mind, have a good night, see you ‘round Teach.” Reacher’s tone is clipped as he detaches from you with surgical precision. His body melds back into the crowd instantly as he flees from you retreating back to reality once more.

The bartender finally reaches you and you order your drinks, skulking back to find Frankie gone too. You check your phone and see that she’s bailed. You sit for a while, not touching the drinks for some time, trying to reconcile the night in your mind.

You down your beer and leave Frankie’s drink on the table before ordering an uber. You wait outside and almost scoff at the fact it took you less than a minute to realise Reacher was tailing you. He’s good, but so are you. You spend your nights checking for every sniper position, any potential ambush site. PTS, having the audacity to exist as a woman in the army, and pre-existing anxiety meant you were always hypervigilant.

You head back to your apartment, abandoning the Uber plan as you nip down dark alleyways. Every time he’s there. Sometimes a step ahead, often two or three behind as you watch him grunt in frustration from a rooftop as he reaches a dead end you guided him into.

You flop down on your shitty little sofa as the water still beads at your skin from the shower. You know he’s here, already inside your apartment. The tape you leave over the seams of your sash windows peeled back and replaced almost perfectly, but the room felt off, so when you prodded the adhesive tape it had flaked back without resistance. You had checked the bathroom first, wanting to shower uninterrupted, but you left the door ajar, just enough that if he wanted to, Reacher could see your naked form as you washed vigorously in your wet room.

You look around the studio apartment, the bare wood floors and deep red brick walls helped keep your anxiety in check, dirt shows less, stains easier to cover up. There is so little in the sparse room you’re starting to wonder if you were being paranoid. Then you hear the shift from the mezzanine bedroom. You gaze moves to look up through the balcony, eyes shifting along the dimly lit platform.

“You want a beer Jack?” You ask at the space under the bed you couldn’t see from here, position he was most likely in and you hear the soft grunt at the use of his first name. There’s a pause, where you can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he decides it’s worth staying hidden for any longer.

“Fine.” He huffs as he rolls out from under your bed, exactly where you thought he’d be. Your bed is one of the few places anyone could hide in your apartment and you kept it that way for a reason. You pad over to the kitchen and grab a pair of import beers from the fridge, taking your time, hoping your loose linen shorts and thin tank top would entice Reacher to crowd you from behind again. But you’re left hanging as you hear the creak of your dilapidated groan under Reacher’s weight.

“So, what do you want?” You ask, nudging thew fridge door shut with your hip before you saunter over to sit on the coffee table, Reacher, even if he wasn’t currently sprawled across the whole length, would have taken up too much space for you to be comfortable.

“You.” Reacher says without pause, his sea glass blue eyes raking over the ample amounts of bare skin you have on show. You pop open the bottles with the end of the lighter on the coffee table next to your ashtray full of burnt-out joints, as you lazily take in the way Reacher’s tight jeans hug his strong thighs. The way his biceps strain against the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt has heat flooding straight to your core.

“Denied, anything else I can do for you?” You ask as you hand him the beer, his large fingers brush against yours and you have to battle with your self-control to pull away. Your skin is on fire, your heart in your throat as you feel the pressure of over ten years of pent up desire blotting out the rational part of your mind.

“Can I crash here?” He asks before taking a long swig of beer, you watch shamelessly at the way his throat muscles contract and flex as he swallows.

“Nope.” You breathe, your walls already crumbling as you actually consider saying yes.

“What’s up your ass Teach?” Reacher groans, his eyes hard as he sets the beer down on the table before shifting up into a sitting position, his knees brush yours and you feel yourself clench around nothing. The friction of his jeans against your bare skin, the intensity if his look, his hard stare, all of it riles you up and you have to force yourself to think straight.

“Just getting tired of whatever this is.” You gesture between your chest and his, the truth of your words biting as you steel yourself. You don’t want to fuck this up, you’re in the right place for the first time ever to actually let him in, but you can’t shake the decades of cold hard walls you had festooned around you.

“Understood, see you around,” And he says your name, soft, tender, vulnerable against his stoic, harder than titanium, façade he puts up for everyone. Everyone but you.

Reacher makes it two long strides, which was more like four of your own, before you grab him from behind, wrapping him in a bear hug as you anchor yourself to him. You notice the twitch of involuntary movement as your unexpected contact triggers his fight reflex. But he stills immediately, hands balled at his sides. You press your face into the span between his shoulder blades, inhaling the familiar cotton-fresh, pressed linen and neutral soap smell that you always associated with Reacher. No perfumed frills, as always he was utilitarian, clean, safe.

“Stay.” You whisper into his shirt trying not to sound as needy as you felt, but it’s painfully clear how much you needed this, you can’t hide it from yourself, and you certainly could never hide your feelings from Reacher, no matter how hard you both tried to ignore them.

God he’s warm.

“‘Sure? Seemed pretty clear you wanted me gone.” Reacher says as he places his strong hands on your forearms, as if to move them, but the moment his fingers brush your skin you feel the flash of desire in your chest, striking down your spine like lightning. The hitch in Reacher’s breath tells you he feels it too.

“Look at me.” You order, and without hesitation he turns in your arms, his hands sliding up to touch the bare skin of your biceps. The friction is maddening as you try to suppress the urge to jump him, to wrap your legs around his torso and fuse your lips to his.

“What?” Reacher says with a grunt, his jaw is tight with tension, eyes burning with desire in the low light of your apartment. His thumbs brush the skin of your biceps as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Kiss me.” You breathe, all thought, every ounce of bravado and cold, self-imposed emotional exile thrown to the wind. He hesitates for a split second before he claims your mouth with his own. It’s slow, cautious at first, barely a brush of skin on skin but that’s all it takes. It’s like kerosene poured on a bonfire, explosive, pressured, and unbearably hot. Nothing can stop this blaze now, and you were past being worried about getting burned.

Jack cups his right hand around the back of your neck, cradling it perfectly in his large hand as the other falls to your hip, pulling you against him, fisting the flimsy linen shorts in his hand as he groans down into you. His tongue presses against the seam of your mouth and you open willingly, moaning as his thick, hot tongue dominates you.

“Bed.” You mumble against his lips, pulling away to look up into his lust blown eyes, then you see a flash of mischief in his eyes. Before you can challenge him you’re being thrown over his shoulder. You yelp, embarrassment flooding you as you hear it, cursing yourself for getting caught off guard. Reacher chuckles, charging up the stairs two at a time before practically throwing you on the bed. You bounce lightly against the paisley blue sheets and glare at him, trying to muster every ounce of venom built up over the years for this man. But all you can manage is a pout, which only makes Reacher smirk triumphantly down at you from the foot of the bed.

“Clothes. Off.” Reacher growls the order and a flash of defiance makes you bold. You shift onto your knees and cross your arms, staring up at him with an eyebrow cocked in challenge.

“Make me.” You respond with a scoff, you might have obliged if he had asked nicely, maybe.

“Brat.” Reacher growls before slipping off his watch, kicking off his boots, and taking off his belt. You flush a little as you realise he’s removing anything damaging, sharp, or otherwise uncomfortable. They fall into a pile to his right before he looks you up and down, analytical as always as he prepares to strike.

You expect him to lunge at you, go in for the kill shot and use his brute strength to make you submit but that’s never been the game between you two. It’s always been about the chase, the delayed gratification, the thrill of drawing it out. The bed shifts dramatically as he lowers himself onto his knees.

Fuck, he’s big.

You think to yourself as he kneels, thighs spread as he towers over you. You shuffle back, feet brushing against the pillows as he slowly inches closer. His large hands fall to the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping them open one by one. Each painfully slow motion reveals more and more of his muscular form. Sure, you’d seen Reacher naked before, hell you think you’ve seen him in every state of undress, including when you had to fish out a stray bullet and patch him up in Moldova. But this was different. This was for you.

“Trade?” Reacher says as he reaches the bottom button, his navy shirt hanging off his shoulders, exposing the scarred, rippling torso you knew so well. You could map every scar on his body, or so you thought, new, fresh, still-pink lines and indentations on his skin made you shudder.

“Trade for what Jack?” You say, trying to get under his skin as much as he had already gotten under yours.

“My shirt for yours?” He asks, eyebrow raised in challenge. You know if you refuse you’ve lost, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting you naked too quickly.

“Your shirt for one article of clothing of my choosing?” You barter and he cocks his head quizzically but nods slowly. You smirk and slip down the straps of your sports bra before unclasping it and throwing it away. It was the same colour as your tank top so it hadn’t been obvious it was there until your breasts spill out against the tight fabric of your tank top. Reacher’s eyes go glassy as you see his position shift on the bed, even in the low tungsten lighting you could see the bulge in his dark jeans.

“Impressive.” He breathes, you aren’t sure if he meant your trade, or your breasts, but it didn’t matter. The praise had you open mouthed and trying not to squirm as he inches closer, shouldering off the shirt. He goes to throw it on the floor but you snatch it from his hand, quickly pulling it over your shoulders. It swamps you and you bury your nose into the collar to inhale the crisp, clean smell of Reacher before looking back up through your eyelashes at him. His hand trembles as he swipes it back through the short hair on top of his head.

“What next?” You purr, taking in the broad expanse of his shoulders, his thick neck, and the soft yet defined muscles of his chest and abs. Reacher wordlessly pulls down his zipper, slowly shifting his jeans down over his thighs, letting them pool at his knees as he watches you like a hawk. You exhale aggressively through your nose as you see the dark patch of pre-come on his grey boxers, his cock straining against the tight fabric. You knew he had a big dick, but seeing it erect, erect for you has you pushing your thighs together as your cunt aches to be touched.

He stays like that for a few more agonising seconds and you’re almost at breaking point, about to relent and strip bare for him to take you right there when he finally hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his jeans and manages to take them off in a graceful motion, without moving from his knees.

You don’t wait for the next instruction, you had a plan, you mimic his actions in removing your shorts, pooling them at your knees to reveal the white cotton panties that hugged your mound. They were slick with your own arousal, making them cling to you in a way that made you ache further.

“Fuck.” Reacher hisses as he wipes one large hand over his face, sweat beading on his brow as his eyes roam your body, of course he notices the way your panties cling to you, the way your mouth is parted and eyes blown out with desire. He notices the peaks of your nipples painfully hard and pebbled under the thin fabric of the tank top.

“Looks like you’ve only got one piece left to trade Reacher, going to have to pick what I take off next.” You breathe as you bite on your lip, your eyes piercing his as you notice his Adam’s apple bob violently as he swallows hard.

“Me first.” He rasps, thumbs sliding beneath the waistband of his boxers, revealing a smattering of light brown curls as he lowers his underwear slowly, letting his cock spring free with a bounce. You exhale through your nose to try and alleviate the desire building at the base of your spine but you can’t help the whine that accompanies it. He’s larger than you remember and, but then again you’d never seen him hard, and the pearlescent bead of pre-come leaking from his thick, ruddy tip had your hands balling into fists at your side. You notice the slight upwards curve of it and try not to think about how it was going to feel tight inside you.

He watches you with a smug grin, clearly feeling like he had already won but you look away from his beautiful cock and back up into his hungry eyes.

“What next?” You ask, voice pathetic and breathy but you weren’t ready to buckle yet. Reacher swiftly takes off his boxers before shuffling closer, looking between your cotton panties and your peaked nipples as they strain against the fabric.

“Top.” He murmurs, he’s so close now you can smell the perspiration over the usual freshness of Reacher and it does nothing but increase the ache between your thighs. You had hoped he’d say that, you don’t waste your time now, shrugging off his shirt before, peeling the material over your head with a huff as you lose your vision for a split second. The bed shifts beneath you and when you pull the tank top over your head you see him, towering over you, knees almost touching as he tilts his head down at you with a wide smile on his face.

He says nothing but slowly leans forward, his chest millimetres from your face as he reaches behind you to pull his shirt back over your shoulders. You shudder as his fingers brush the bare skin of your shoulders before looking up into his blue-green eyes as you see the strain in his neck muscles as he tries to hold back.

“Looks like you lost Reacher, I’ve still got my panties on.” You breathe as he rocks back down onto his knees, his fingertips trailing down from your shoulders before he reaches your pebbled nipples. He brushes his knuckles against the sensitive buds and you arch forward at the touch, the pleasure blinding as his rough skin scrapes blissfully against them.

“Who said getting naked was the goal?” He asks, his hands trailing down to your thighs, gripping the flesh of your ass in his hands as he leans down into you, his strong nose brushing against yours, lips hovering just short of your own.

“Then what?” You breathe, your right hand rests atop his on your ass, you trail your middle and index fingers down from the hollow of his neck, following the valley of his sternum and tight stomach before ghosting along the patch of curls just above his shaft.

“I think you know.” He breathes, pressing his forehead against your own as he wrestles internally for control.

“Hmmm, think I need you to spell it out for me Reacher.” You counter, removing your hand from his torso to slide it up your thigh instead, tracking slowly up to the seam of your panties where they curve over your mound.

“Fuck.” He grunts but clearly not giving in so easily. You smile and push up on your knees, forcing his hands up as you unfold your legs, flopping back against the pillows under him as you cant your hips up towards him. His hands shift up from your thighs as you move, pinning you down by your hips as he moans above you. You hook your ankles over his calves and look up into his dark eyes with your best bedroom eyes, batting your eyelids as you pull your right hand up to your mouth, pulling your panties to the side with your left. The air hits your soaked pussy and you shudder at the sensation. Reacher’s eyes don’t leave yours, not daring to look down.

“Teach.” Reacher growls in warning but that only spurs you on more. You push your two fingers into your mouth slowly, all the way to the knuckle, hollowing your cheeks out as you suck hungrily on your own digits. He watches you, entranced as you pull them back out, saliva glistening between the digits as you lower them to your clit. Reacher says nothing as he follows them down, he’s practically vibrating with tension now.

You slide your fingers through your drenched folds, whimpering at the sensation as you gather your arousal over your fingers, you bring them back up to your lips but before they get there Reacher snatches your wrist in his hand. Without pause he pulls them into his mouth and groans around your fingers as he laves his tongue between them, savouring your slick like a man starved. Your fingers leave his mouth with a pop and he breathes your name as he cups your cheek with one hand, the other tight on your hip, you were sure it was going to bruise but you didn’t care. He repeats your name again through ragged breaths.

“I give in, can I please fuck you?” He asks and triumph takes a backseat in your mind as you feel the heat rush through your veins.

“Yes.” You breathe against his lips and he presses his tongue into your pliable mouth. You can taste yourself on him and you moan as the hand on your hip pulls you flush against him as he devours you. His length grinds against your slit, rubbing blissfully at your clit as you buck up into him. You want his cock so bad, you wriggle and whimper against him as he continues to lick into your mouth with fervour.

“Need another taste.” He mumbles as he pulls back, dropping onto his elbows as he wastes no time pressing his thick tongue deep into your desperate little hole. You cry out and buck up into it as he laps up your arousal. He shifts up to your clit, swiftly replacing his tongue with two of his large fingers. You cry out as the stretch burns but it’s soon assuaged by the way he sucked on your clit, flicking his tongue in rapid, punishing circles as he fucks you with his strong fingers, his knuckles rutting against your core as you feel the burning heat of your orgasm building. He laps greedily against your clit as he picks up the pace thrusting into your cunt with his fingers.

It’s blinding, like a supernova spreading from the base of your spine, blowing through your cunt and splintering at your toes as you convulse around his digits. You quake as he continues to piston in and out of you as you ride through your orgasm. He watches your face twist and contort, occasionally flicking his tongue against your clit to elicit another shudder from you.

“Jack.” You plead, cupping his jaw as you gently push him away.

“Sorry, ‘just looked too good, twitchin’ f’me.” He babbles, your slick coating his hard jaw as he looks down at you with reverence. You pant up at him but you’re still not truly sated, you want more, so much more. You reach down to his cock and grip him tightly at the base, Reacher’s eyes go wide and he smiles down wickedly at you.

“You sure?” He asks, placing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, teasing his tongue against the skin there.

“Please.” You beg, you need to feel him, need him to split you open. Reacher groans softly and nestles down between your legs, one hand on his cock, the other holding you steady by your hip. He swipes his head through your folds before pausing in realisation.

“Do you have a condom?” He asks, voice strained as he tries to be good, to do the right thing.

“Reacher I’ve not had sex in months, I’ve had clean bills of health since, and I’m on the pill, unless you’re packing an STI,” You look up at him this time with a face of judgement, “Which I will be pissed we’ve gotten this far and you haven’t said anything,” You add and he grins down at you incredulously, “I’m down if you are.” You say, looking between where his thick head is already stretching your entrance and his handsome face.

“Hundred percent sure?” He asks once more, twitching as he tries to restrain himself.

“Reacher, just fuck me already.” You growl. Reacher obeys and presses his tip inside, the stretch so much more intense than his fingers but you’re already so wet it’s no more than a pleasant burn.

“Fuck, so tight.” He breathes, easing further in as you buck up into him, your legs wrapping around his waist, ankles crossed to pull against his lower back. He groans as he finally lets go, thrusting deep into you as you cry out in bliss. He fills you so tightly it’s overwhelming, you squirm under him as he brings a hand down to swipe his thumb against your clit.

“Fuckin’ Beautiful.” He growls as he starts a steady pace, his balls slapping gently against your ass each time as he bottoms out. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he fucks down into you, spurring him on his thick cock rakes against your fluttering walls as every thrust threatens to unravel you.

“Reacher, fuck.” You groan as his tip hits your g-spot, making you writhe and clench, your right hand falls from his shoulder as you drop it down to swat his hand out of the way. You circle your clit with two fingers, matching his pace with ease fro this angle. He growls at the sight of you touching yourself as he fucks into you harder now, both hands on your hips as his rhythm falters.

“Can I-?” Reacher begins to ask but you cut him off, scraping angry red marks down his chest.

“Come inside me.” You command and that, combined with the sensation of your nails biting into his skin has Reacher stuttering his hips against you as he paints your walls with his spend. You come seconds later, pulsating around his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm, not slowing until you’re fully spent.

He rolls off you, almost falling off the modest double bed, only for you to catch his arm as you move over to give him some room. His cum is leaking out of you but you don’t care, sheets can be washed, or burned, but this moment with Reacher is precious.

“You ok there Teach?” He asks breathlessly as he turns to face you, pulling you against his chest, looping his strong thigh over yours caging you in against him.

“Seriously? Did you not hear me? Ok would be an insult to you.” You say with a laugh, prodding his sternum lightly with your finger.

“Fair point.” He says as he runs his fingers up ad down your body, tracing every curve, every scar, noting the places where you shudder. You place soft kisses to his chest, dragging your nails of your free hand up and down his back. It’s the most tender moment you’ve ever had, with anyone and the fact it was Reacher who was giving it to you was bizarre but you don’t care. After a while you feel yourself drifting off, but you know you need to wash up, even if you had only just showered.

“Reacher, gotta pee, c’mon.” You grumble against his skin and he sighs.

“I know.” He says softly as he places a kiss to the top of your head, but neither of you move, both terrified that if you let go it will shatter the illusion, the perfect moment neither of you wanted to lose.

“Reacher?” You whisper, anxiety bubbling in your throat as you prepare to ask the question that almost ruined it earlier.

“Hmm?” He responds sleepily, it he props himself up on his elbow and blinks the sleep away as he hears the concern in your voice.

“Why now?” You ask softly, trying to maintain eye contact, not wanting to shy away from this.

“Because,” He says softly, cupping your left cheek as he looks at you in earnest, “I’ve lost a lot of people I love, and I’m tired of pushing the people I love away, because I’d rather live and lose than never live at all.” He says and you can’t help but stifle a giggle.

“Did you just paraphrase Shakespeare at me?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“It’s Tennyson, actually.” He grunts but the smile doesn’t leave his lips. You roll your eyes, he always was more into poetry than you.

“Do you want to crash here?” You ask softly leaning up to meet his lips, the kiss is soft, passionate, yet not the same as the hunger from before.

“Thought you’d never ask, c’mon let’s get cleaned up, I’m exhausted.” He mutters against your lips before hoisting you up into his arms, swinging his legs over the bed before carrying you to the bathroom. You grumble something about manhandling being degrading but he just laughs, because he knows deep down you like it. And you do too.

“Nobody knows it, but you’ve got a secret smile, and you use it only for me.” - Semisonic (Was listening to this while about mid-way through this and I just thought it was appropriate. Let me know what you think! I really liked writing this and would love some more Reacher stuff as it's pretty sparse as far as I can see? As always, likes and reblogs and comments are SO appreciated.

#Reacher #jack reacher x you #jack reacher smut #jack reacher #jack reacher x f!reader #alan ritchson #fanfic #fanfiction #jack reacher fanfiction #jack reacher fanfic #jack reacher x female reader #Frances Neagley is sneaky #vi writes #viwrites #viwritessmut #smut

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save-the-villainous-cat · 5 months

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Okay so how about a delirious or gravely injured hero / villain who starts telling the other details about their secret identity because they’re so sure they’re not going to make it while the other is like don’t even think about dying on me ?

"Look," the villain hissed. They pressed their hand into the wound the supervillain had stabbed into them. Flesh had ripped open and blood had been mercilessly dropping to the ground for the last few minutes. It was fair to say that the hero had...overdone it. The villain knew they could forget their own strength every now and then but they hadn't expected them to kill the supervillain that brutally. "I am dying."

The villain leaned their head back but the headache would not die. They dared to peek at the supervillain's body and somehow allowed themselves to relax. Years of anger and anxiety were gone now. Some peace was a good thing. Ignoring the tears and the pain, their eyes found the hero.

"Don't be ridiculous," the hero said but still, the villain could hear their voice shake. Whenever the hero's wall which they had built around their heart crumbled like this, the villain felt some weird sense of accomplishment. Wasn't this their job? Changing the hero? Even if the villain wasn't a good person, was this a good deed?

"No," the villain said. They grabbed the hero's wrist. Their nemesis was panicking, staring at the villain's wound in shock. "I am dying, love."

The hero shook their head and the villain wasn't sure if the pain made them hallucinate the tears in the hero's eyes or if those were actually real. They had never seen the hero this emotional.

"My parents aren't buried in the city," the villain said. "But I wouldn't mind if you chose a cemetery here."

"No."

"I have a cat, also. You need to take care of her. She's only five months old. I found her on the streets a while ago." The villain's hand crawled up the hero's arm until they found their hand and squeezed. "God, I thought I'd have some more time."

They couldn't even stop the tears. Couldn't control anything. Their vision spun and they felt bad for forcing the hero to watch them die. It was a little selfish, wasn't it? But wasn't it also a human desire?

Not to die alone?

"I have a sister, too. She lives far away, though. Maybe you'll find her phone number in my apartment? Could you take care of that? I know it's a lot to ask..."

"Don't you dare. I didn't murder someone for you to die now. I didn't protect you all these months for you to..." The hero swallowed and wiped thick tears away. For a second, the villain seriously thought they were dead already. I didn't protect you... "You cannot die now. I won't let you. You're too important to me."

"It's fine, I..." The hero pulled out their phone and dialed 911 with shaky fingers. The villain's eyes widened but they were too weak to protest. The hero tried to breathe but it was clear that it was quite troubling for them to take normal breaths. They were fighting just as much as the villain.

The villain had given up already, though.

"Yes, hello. I would like to report a murder. I killed someone. I also need an ambulance...I injured someone else, too," the hero said. "Locate my position."

They hung up.

"Fuck, what are you...?" The villain's heart was beating faster than ever. They couldn't believe what the hero had just told the authorities. Confessing a murder like this...asking for an ambulance? The villain wouldn't make it in time and the hero would go to jail either way.

This couldn't be happening. The villain had wanted them to live a quiet life, not dying young in prison. The amount of villain's the hero had already sent to jail was impressive and if the hero joined them, they wouldn't survive the first night.

The villain moaned when they moved. Pain was taking over and they weren't sure if they wanted to throw up or pass out.

"They won't put you in jail when you're injured like this. Especially not when I am the one who's responsible. They've been hunting you for quite a while now but in this case I am the criminal. This buys you time and they can actually save you at the hospital." The hero took in a greedy breath and closed their eyes. More tears.

"You're insane, you're-" The hero took their hand.

"It's the only way to save you. Your blood type is A+, right?" Perhaps? The villain wanted to throw up. This wasn't happening, the hero hadn't just pulled their Go to Jail Card intentionally.

"I think so?" The villain started to sweat and suddenly, it felt as if the world wanted to push them into the afterlife. They refused to die, now that the hero had confessed to a crime. But they feared they had no control over that either.

"Mine is A-, so I can donate. I'll try to stay on the ambulance, if they let me." The hero seemed to be back in their cold self. Always calculating, always thinking. Their poor hero. Always fighting.

"You'll go to prison," the villain whispered.

"And I will find a way to crawl back to you," the hero said. "I always will."

#you always got my fav requests #writing snippet #heroes and villains #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #hero #villain #request #an answer for an ask #hero x villain #heroxvillain

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annoyinglandmagazine · 7 months

Text

Bilbo was taking surprisingly well to Valinor. Of course he’d been expecting it to be an adjustment, elves were very different creatures to hobbits after all, but he was certainly in fine comfort here. He’d always got the impression that elves had very- well for want of a better word elven ideas about what constituted a home, it was not his place to criticise but sleeping in trees seemed to lack a sense of cosiness to be perfectly honest, but Elrond seemed to have gone to a heartwarming effort to make his surroundings more familiar.

He and Frodo had been given spacious yet hobbit proportioned chambers in the building (practically a castle really) his wife had made for their household, a display of generosity that he should have come to expect yet still took him off guard. The rooms were filled with lush wall hangings, rugs and throw blankets, each pieces of art, and there were ever so many places one could sit and work away at whatever took their fancy or simply gaze out at the stars or waves crashing against the rocks.

Despite the seeming peace and tranquillity of his surroundings he was not oblivious to the fact that there was tension in the halls. He was proven right when Elrond came in one day after going down to the city, somewhere the hobbits had still not quite worked up the nerve to go themselves as they knew they would stick out like sore thumbs and were not fully prepared to be bombarded with questions and stares.

The Lady Galadriel’s brother Finrod had become familiar company however, when he was not too busy teasing his sister that is, and seemed genuinely eager and impressed with all they had to say. He even seemed enthusiastic about Bilbo’s attempts at poetry, though when he heard a reinterpretation of an ancient romance ballad about the flame haired princess being freed from her tower by a valiant elven prince he had to cover his mouth politely before bursting into a fit of laughter when he met Elrond’s eyes. He apologised profusely afterwards, though Bilbo was still trying to discover what had been so funny.

On this day however Finrod was not in attendance, it was just some of Elrond’s household, his wife and Bilbo in the corner writing a new poem about Beren and Luthien (a little overdone perhaps but still an incredible story). Elrond hung his cloak on the stand by the door and adjusted some invisible flaw in his braid work before picking up a book and silencing all the numerous proceedings in the bustling communal area with one casually uttered sentence from the window seat.

‘I decided to invite my parents over for dinner.’

Glorfindel dropped the plant pot he was holding with a crash, the only noise in the stifling silence. Everyone seemed to take that as their queue to leave whatever they were doing and walk calmly, run like their lives depended on it for the doors, some even for the windows. All except Bilbo that is, he wanted to hear what it was that made all these dignified and battle hardened immortal beings scatter like young hobbits pillaging Farmer Maggot’s grounds.

Glorfindel spoke and his voice was definitely trembling, goodness what could this be about? ‘Which- which parents would these be Lord Elrond?’

Elrond didn’t look up as if he hadn’t noticed the panic he’d unleashed and twirled his bookmark about his fingers while replying absentmindedly. ‘Hmmm? Oh, well I really didn’t want to start off on a note of picking some over the others after so many millennia apart so I thought it best to meet them together, clear the air and all that rather than leave things fester. I’m quite done with letting things go unspoken you know.’

‘You what.’ The Balrog Slayer trembled and shook, he who had laughed in the face of the Nazgûl.

‘What in all the lands of Arda could have possessed you to- Elrond! Are you trying to get us all killed?!’

‘Oh, peace Glorfindel, my family aren’t going to kill each other or you.’

‘Elrond your families killing each other is how you got one of them! Which is still severely fucked up by the way and so ridiculously unhealthy I don’t even know what to do with it.’

Elrond huffed at Glorfindel’s hysterics, ‘Honestly, it’s fine. It’s just dinner. They’re hardly going to sour their first meeting with me since before the destruction of Beleriand just to be petty.’

Bilbo privately thought that there was very little certain family members wouldn’t do to be petty, especially where ill advised family dinners were concerned. Tonight should be entertaining at least. He wondered if the elves, with the wisdom of many ages would be able to restrain themselves.

Glorfindel sighed and leaned forward onto his hand muttering something that, despite Bilbo’s incomplete fluency in the language, sounded suspiciously like swearing. ‘Well I suppose there’s nothing we can do now except send as many to safety as we can spare and pray to every Valar we can think of.’

‘And hide the breakables,’ Elrond chimes in lightly seemingly unperturbed by the very dangerous individual who was looking gradually more and more murderous. ‘Naneth used to throw things at the wall after receiving letters from Atya. Best hide any weaponry as well. Maybe serve something that doesn’t require sharp cutlery?’

Glorfindel inhaled slowly several times while staring down his significantly younger lord. ‘I hope you know Elrond, that the only reason I am not throttling you right now is that I do not want to upset the Lady Idril by causing injury to her only grandchild. She terrifies me, perhaps more than you and your parents but it is a fine fucking line.’

As Glorfindel headed out to try and pull the house into some semblance of readiness for the seeming impending disaster Elrond lifted his gaze from his novel and stared out at the rolling ocean before him. While only moments ago he had seemed light and teasing, as if he were secretly aware of and enjoying the turmoil he’d caused, something Bilbo had become more and more accustomed to seeing from him since their arrival on these shores, now he appeared every inch of his years, an ages long loss lined in those bright eyes and a trace of hesitance that was even more alarming.

‘Are you quite alright lad?’ Elrond’s mouth moved into familiar expression of amusement at being referred to as such by one so many times his younger and that was something at least though his eyes didn’t change.

‘Everything’s alright, it’s only just- well it’s been so long Bilbo. I know coming from me that may sound unusual to you, but I’m talking about things that happened in the First Age of the world, in Beleriand for goodness sake, that entire continent hasn’t existed for over seven millennia. So it’s just hard- I’ve spent so long imagining this day and I truly have no idea how it will go. It’s been so long since I’ve had parents and now- I might finally get that connection again but what if it fails? They haven’t seen me since I was a child, some of them anyway, what if they don’t like the person I am now?’

‘Any parent would be proud of having someone like you for a child, Elrond. I’m sure it will go splendidly, why they must have missed you dreadfully, I can’t imagine being separate from Frodo for so long.’ He was touched deeply by this elven lord opening up to him about such worries and resolved to try his best to make tonight go without a hitch. Glorfindel must have surely be overreacting after all, it couldn’t be that hard, could it, to prevent a few people (he was admittedly still unclear on the circumstances that led to Elrond’s parents being referred to as seemingly distinct groups) coming to blows at a reunion with their son?

#silmarillion #tolkien #elrond peredhel #glorfindel #bilbo baggins #valinor #fourth age #kidnap fam #elwing #earendil

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ikkosu · 9 days

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Listening to Nicki Minaj and David Guetta song called hey mama gave me ideas....

Beginning 2000'. Ur a sport car racer in the city of ur choice and ur kinda known in town to be very good.

Imagine one day u found an abandonned race car that has a yellow orange red paint job and decide to repair it and use it to do races (u know, like the one in Tokyo?). Because like, the car has a unique design u've never seen before, not even for a rally. And is in perfect condition.

The day of the race, u arrive and everyone is quiet bc wow, that car is new, shiny and beautiful. They all stare at u, including others competitors.

In summary, u start ur race, and praise the car asf like "yeah baby, give me all u've got", "show them what u can do", "that's right, go on, don't stop","such a perfect engine revving to prove them we are the best"... and u notice the car litteraly has no speed limite, is doing an outrageously good performance and seems to be enjoying the race. The adrenaline running through ur blood make u ignore the fact that the car seems to react and live the moment.

Because of this, u win every races and end up beating every records. Nobody has ever made such an impressive performance.

To avoid having people touch ur new jewel, you leave quickly after recieving some prices and go back home. You blast some music to celebrate.

Back home, u decide to wash the car when u notice some weird pinky liquid coming out from under the car.

If u want u can eventually write what happen next (it's midnight and my brain is nwjfifishs) but i kust wanted to share this idea with u :))

Have a nive day/night ~~~<3

gosh!! that is such a good idea omg. I always like the idea of bots going along whatever their new humans are taking them to, preffering to remain silent while the human just,,does whatever they want to do lmaoo. Only escaping to their bases at night then returning the morning after like they hadnt left.

Given the human is a racer I can imagine they would manhandle the car a lot,,,,and Cybertronian are naturally sensitive on the driving wheel as well as the joysticks (and the pedals, too. Especially, the pedals) which leads to several pent up 'frustrations' from the bot themselves....👀👀

Doesn't also help the way you keep praising the car, touches always so rough yet soft when you knead the joystick or swivel the wheel....

I don't have much to add but,,,,

—CURIOUS, you hunch over, other hand pointing the mouth of the hose to the crevices of the wheels. They rolled across enough dirt already, but you miss impatient skidding of the the wheels back and forth.

Whatever strange substance that was, it had a tangy smell to it — almost pungent, yet also a little sweet?

You curled out a finger and dipped it into the viscous liquid. It was strangely cool to the touch, yet the tip of your skin flared with a mild burn a only a balm would induce.

Moreover, the crush, candy color were reminiscent of the cherry flavored Gatorade, you hoard often from the shops. Is this some new kind of fuel? If so, then why weren't you informed? Trends these days....always so discreet. But, how did it end up here?

The thought of shoving your finger inside your mouth, going against all ethical hygiene practices for a taste to satisfy your curiosity, is short-lived the moment the engine rumbled.

But it wasn't just a rumble....almost like a whine. Did it just breedle? Did it talk?

You yelped and scrambled on your back when the car shifted : a blur of mesh metal parts, churning and transforming into shape. Then, a shadow loomed above you, caging you in. Chuffs of steam heaved, like breaths of a a beast and two blue flaring lights for eyes, fervent and desperate...

#transformers #maccadam #transformers x reader #transformers idw #ikkoasks #suggestive

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why-animals-do-the-thing · 8 months

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I had previously been under the impression that AZA accredited zoos and aquariums in the USA are more likely to take good care of animals than those that lack this accreditation. Is this incorrect?

It's... really complicated. The short answer is: maybe? Which doesn't help at all, I'm sure. I'm working on a huge project to try to quantify a bunch of accreditation stuff, so I don't want to say anything concrete from preliminary data, y'know?

Accreditation at a facility tells you, basically, what standards they are supposed to meet and what political group / industry club they're part of. But there's a lot of issues with all of the five zoological accrediting / certifying bodies where oversight during the accreditation cycles doesn't really exist in a functional way? Either reporting systems are in place that highly disincentivize reporting (because they aren't anonymous and could be tracked back to a staffer) or just don't have formal protocols for it all.

So being AZA accredited tells you the type of expectations they're trying to live up to, and what standards they met at the time they were inspected. I have some concerns about whether the standards for certain aspects of accreditation (like aesthetic stuff, not animal care) are really sustainable for duration given how you're constantly hearing about how zoos scramble to get all the little deferred things fixed prior to the next inspection. But, that's not necessarily an issue with the zoos, and more the program - and that's something that AFAIK happens with every accrediting group, not just AZA.

There's also an aspect of how the requirements of each accrediting program kind of... self select for the type of zoos they want? AZA's application and annual fees are incredibly high, which isn't necessarily a good use of money for many smaller facilities; they also require compliance with a lot of things not related to animal care and welfare, like internal staffing structure and facility aesthetics. Again, something that either smaller facilities just can't afford - do you spend money on the animals or on paving all your pathways? - or aren't interested in getting involved with because of how intrusive it is. So most of the AZA zoos you see are the bigger, well-funded ones with city-type aesthetics, because that's what who the program is set up to encourage to apply. (There are definitely exceptions to this, but find me a big city zoo that isn't AZA or in the process of becoming AZA).

To try to answer your questions, AZA zoos are more likely to be high quality because in order to be accredited, they have to have a certain amount of cash flow. Having more funding / income tends to make regular operating issues easier to solve. AZA zoos are certainly more heavily scrutinized every five years by their accrediting body than a group like ZAA, which is mostly focused on animal care / education / conservation and isn't going to meddle in a zoo's business operations. But AZA zoos aren't perfect. Most of them don't even meet all of the AZA standards completely at the time of inspection: there was an article a couple years back about how rare it was that Cheyenne Mountain Zoo met all of the AZA standards at the time of inspection - only the 4th zoo to do so in AZA's 50-something year history. (How that works is that zoos that don't meet all the standards but are close get provisionally accredited, and then have to fix or improve some stuff within the first year to keep it). And believe me, AZA zoos can and do have problems too - look at the embezzlement conducted by the previous leadership at Columbus, or the sexual assault and conduct issues with the Director at Henry Vilas. They're just less often covered in ways that are visible to the public.

Accreditation is a good indicator what a zoo intends to be, and what animal care / conservation ethos it participates in. It isn't, however, always a guarantee that the facility is good or that the animal care (or staff welfare!) is better than at an unaccredited or alternately-accredited place.

#zoo politics #accreditation politics #zoo accreditation #ongoing work

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kykyonthemoon · 2 months

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Limerence (noun) — a mental state of profound romantic infatuation, deep obsession, and fantastical longing.

⋆˚✿˖° This chapter is a part of a mini-series of dark fairy tales and romance sets in another universe. It consists of three chapters, each with a Male Lead and is separated from one another.

⋆˚✿˖° Character x Reader/MC, from another (OC's) point of view. Reader/MC's pronounce is "she/her/hers".

⋆˚✿˖° Warnings & tags: 16+, MDNI, angst, hurt, thriller, emotional and mind control, manipulation, love spell, obsession, unrequited love, major character death, dark fantasy, dark fairy tale, m.urder, s.uicide attempt.

⋆˚✿˖° Leonard is my OC.

⋆˚✿˖° Read more chapters:

✦ Xavier's ✦ Zayne's

⋆˚✿˖° Masterlist

⋆˚✿˖° My friend Cery made an art for this fic here: x

Chapter: The Muse — in which he brings the world his most significant work of art.

⋆˚✿˖° Word count: 3k1

These days, the artist community was vibrant, with some even competing for acceptance to the exhibition at Mo Art Studio.

So did Leonard. He had to rush around and ask for help everywhere in order to be given a chance. Money was not an issue, but the host of this exhibition was certainly not an ordinary person. He wasn't offering tickets to the highest bidder, but rather to those who possessed an artistic vision and passed his evaluation.

“The ticket will be sent to you within the next three days. Please keep in touch.” The other end of the line cut the discussion off, but Leonard's mind remained lightheaded, unable to believe the gift he had just received.

“Wait…” He spoke before the other person hung up. “Excuse me… May I do an interview with that artist in the exhibition?”

There was no response. Leonard believed they were reviewing his proposal. He held his breath and wait for a while, then the manager named Thomas spoke:

“We do not accept interviews. But a few individual queries could suffice. Of course, if you are able to leave a good impression.”

"I got it. Thank you."

Putting the phone aside, Leonard leaned back in his office chair. How to impress Linkon's most talented painter, or should he say - the world's best artist? Despite his young age, there was no one in this city who had never heard of his work.

The artist's name was Rafayel. He became well-known for his landscape paintings, which brought admirers to a dreamlike state when they stood in front of them. He seldom appeared in public, despite having organized hundreds of major and minor exhibitions. Who he truly was remained a question, and the most mysterious part was probably his disappearance a year ago.

For a whole year there were no new paintings or art activities. No one saw him in Linkon during that time. His manager and studio kept it silent, as if everything had evaporated overnight. Then, last weekend, he unexpectedly reappeared and made an important announcement, which was an exhibition called The Muse.

In contrast to his previous events, guests had no idea what they were about to witness. According to the majority of internet comments, Rafayel returned with a work of a lifetime, a painting that exceeded anything he had ever created. That was the final result of a year-long hunt for inspiration. Of course, there were those who believed he was steadily degrading since he hadn't been able to draw anything decent in a long time and had simply planned this event to earn some money.

For Leonard, either truth was fair. He must uncover all of the details and secrets surrounding Rafayel's reappearance. Since that was what he did for a living.

Leonard was a journalist who specialized in arts. Despite his greatest efforts over several years, he still had little hope of succeeding. He had been without a single decent piece for a long time. Then the opportunity to visit the Mo Art studio presented itself before his eyes. He was not going to miss the chance to see a place that had never been accessible to the public before.

The day of the exhibition approached. Leonard had purposefully showed up early, but as he reached the gate, he noticed that about fifty formally dressed guests were already present. They were enjoying wine and food as they walked in groups into the main hall, where the primary event was held. Leonard also entered with nervousness. All of the windows and doors were wide open, allowing the sea air to convey a salty fragrance into the hallway. Rafayel's famous works are framed, and hung or placed in the center of a floral garden that the host tenderly arranged himself, giving guests the impression that they had just lost themselves in the Garden of Eden.

However, that was not the primary attention of the event. Something massive and cylindrical appeared in the center of the hall. It spanned from the ground to an exceedingly high glass ceiling. It had a diameter of up to ten meters, and was covered in a crimson velvet fabric, protecting it from inquisitive eyes of guests. Even the personnel had not an idea of what was inside.

"Rafayel did all of this himself." Thomas, the manager, spoke up. "I can't answer your questions because I'm not sure what's there. But whatever it is, it will undoubtedly live up to the name of his Muse."

The flock of intrigued guests around Thomas nodded, then split out to stroll around and admire the pillar, as if its very presence was already an art. To them, the less they comprehended something, the more valuable it became.

Leonard found a seat close to the window but not too far from the center of the hall. He was afraid of missing the opportunity to witness Rafayel's Muse. Late in the afternoon, the sun glided across the horizon, casting golden rays into the place. The guests began to get tipsy, wondering if Rafayel would show up or if this was all a hoax, when, down the stairs, the host of the party appeared.

He donned a lavish dark blue suit with sculpted sleeves and shoulders that looked to be encrusted with spectrum fish scales. His presence was as magnificent as his name, causing the entire hall to fall silent. Guests held their breath as they watched the young artist stroll down the steps, the heels of his shoes reverberating on the marble floor as if a piece of music had just been executed.

“Welcome to the exhibition.” Rafayel spoke in a solemn voice. "It appears that all of the guests here are wondering; what exactly has he been doing during the past year? Why didn't he present any of his new work? What's the point of this exhibition?"

Rafayel halted for a moment, his dark eyes behind a few purple curls scrutinizing each guest individually, as if reading them all. The corner of his mouth twisted up in delight as he effectively piqued everyone's interest. He resumed his speech:

“It all began with a muse. My muse. That's a story perhaps a lucky visitor would unveil in this exhibition. But for now…” Rafayel lifted a hand. “Let me introduce you to my one and only, Muse.”

The scorched cloth transformed into crimson tiny particles that flew all about, blending into the fiery sunset outside. The crimson sun halted in the center of the room's largest window, and emerged as an illusion was Rafayel's Muse.

Leonard blinked. In front of him stood a tank of water with a thick glass cylinder. The inside was ornamented with flowers, coral, and white pillars of broken plaster encircling an oval of the glass tank, offering him the sense that he was staring at a lost city under the depths of the ocean. There were schools of brilliant small fish swimming around, weaving between the crevices of the broken world. In the midst of the tableau, there was a woman floating in the water in an upright stance, a few meters above the tank's bottom, conveying an illusion that she was flying. Her head was adorned with pearl jewelry, eyes were closed, as if she was in deep slumber. Her hands opened, allowing the orange-red fish to whirl around her wrists. Then they invited each other to swim along her tiny unclothed arms, to her exquisite neck covered in shimmering pearls, and down to the thin white garment that was floating in the water like her own body. Her bare feet lingered above the seaweed, as if to tease them with the fact that they were unable to grasp her no matter how hard they tried.

A beauty out of this world. That was what Leonard's mind could think of. When he came here, he was full of determination to discover Rafayel's secret, but now, when he witnessed its beauty with his own eyes, he was speechless. His brain felt empty, as if that beauty had filled it and he no longer needed anything else. A melodic rhythm could be heard somewhere, distant seemingly from another universe, but apparently emanating from the tank itself.

All guests were drawn to the center. Rafayel vanished among the crowd that was cheering him. Nobody suspected that Rafayel's Muse was not a painting but an entirely distinct thing. Whatever it was, she was the size of an adult in her mid-twenties. A statue or a doll that resembled a real person?

Leonard brushed past a few astonished others to get closer to the tank. Rafayel's exhibit could easily shock the entire art field. Leonard had already begun pondering concepts for his next piece. Unlike the other guests, who were merely engaged in the beauty in front of them, he was more enthralled by the narrative behind The Muse.

Who was she? Where did her story begin? Leonard sought around for Rafayel's silhouette but could not find him. However, near the stairs, he encountered Thomas with a look of panic and utter shock on his face.

“It can't be… No… It can't be her…” Those were the words Leonard could hear before Thomas bolted out of the hall.

There were just a few people invited to the show, and after approximately an hour, they had presumably spent all of their admiration and hypothesis on the tank. They met again in groups to tour Rafayel's studio. Who knows when they would be able to return here again, in ten, twenty, or even fifty years?

Leonard took advantage of the reality that people had left the area to approach closer and examine more, now that he was the only one standing nearby. The Muse was still inside, a smile on her lips, but why did Leonard feel a suffering coming from her? He strolled around the tank to better view her. It was hard to discern whether this was in fact a sculpture by Rafayel or a real person. That was also what the guests spoke about all day.

The Muse was so genuine. To the point that Leonard expected her to open her eyes and climb out of the tank. But she remained still, absorbed in her own undersea world. He stayed frozen, unable to move his gaze away from the tank, for Rafayel had previously stated that within this, his secrets hidden.

Yet Leonard, with his mundane eyes, might never discover it. The only thing he found was possibly a tiny coating of pinkish red water coming from The Muse's breast. That ruby hue seeped through the attire that enveloped her, and it looked nothing like the color that Rafayel often used in his paintings. There was something rather odd about it. It resembled blood, from The Muse herself.

The exhibition came to an end. Guests departed on their own after being notified. Rafayel returned to the lobby. Leonard took the opportunity to ask in an instance:

“Mr. Rafayel. May I ask you a few questions regarding the exhibition?

Rafayel gazed at him. To increase his reputation, he identified himself as a journalist who specialized in writing about art.

"Ah. "I remember you." Rafayel responded. "Among the guests, you were the only one who gave an impressive answer to my question."

Leonard tried to recall the survey he was required to complete before Thomas reached him to inform he had an invitation. These questions were all about Rafayel's career, and the answers were readily accessible online. There was just one question, the last one, that sparked a lot of consideration in Leonard, while having nothing to do with Rafayel's works at all.

"If you were given a magical spell that made the person you love love you forever, would you use it?" Rafayel reiterated his query. "You're the only one who chose not to."

Leonard nodded. It was truly what he had said.

"May I know, why?" Rafayel glanced at him with curiosity. Leonard was taken aback, as he had come here expecting to be an interviewer. Who would have guessed it was the other way around?

"A spell is just an illusion." Leonard responded honestly. "That is not love." "Love must come from a true heart."

"A true heart…" Rafayel repeated each word. His eyes were as sorrowful and deep as the tranquil water, yet it was terrifying since he had no idea when the storm would arrive. "Perhaps, she would choose the same answer as you."

"Pardon?…" Leonard interrupted Rafayel's thoughts. "Who are you talking about?"

Rafayel smiled but remained silent. Fearing that the young artist might leave without answering, Leonard impatiently said:

“Aren't you talking about your Muse? Can you tell me who she is?”

Rafayel gazed at the girl in the aquarium. He smiled. Just a small movement of the lips conveyed devotion, anguish, and regret.

"She is my true heart." Rafayel's voice resembled a song. But he said nothing more, and Leonard was asked to leave right away.

The Muse's story was forever a mystery. The mystery that Leonard had yet to come very close.

That story began a year ago. Or perhaps, it had originated a long, long time ago.

When a Lemurian gives their heart to someone, it will die if not reciprocated.

Rafayel had given his to a human girl.

He met her when she was a child. She was his savior when he was expecting such a painful death on land, and she helped him return to the sea.

She could not remember who he was, nor did she know that all those years, he had been watching her from afar. Amid the waves, behind the rocks, he watched her grow up.

He met her again as a painter many years later. She happily accepted his company. But it was not all he wanted. He longed for her. He craved her touch to make her become his, in the way he had determined his heart belonged to her.

But, her heart belonged to someone else.

A year ago, she told him that she was getting married.

Rafayel could not recall how frightening his emotions were. No matter how powerful the storms were at sea, they could never match his rage at the time. And, with a dreadful calamity brewing in his head, he did what he did to her.

He bound her with an ancient Lemurian enchantment. He made her fall desperately in love with him. She did everything for him, even abandoning her engagement and following him to a far away place. A secluded island only for them. Glorious summer nights lingered forever on the beach, when she and he were entangled, merging in the waves of never-ending love. He had her how he wished.

However, like an illusion, that spell did not persist forever. It drove her to insanity. She wandered alone on the shore, tears streaming and her mouth constantly crying out the name of the person she truthfully loved with each sob. She begged of him.

“Rafayel… Please… Let me go… Please… set me free… Set me free!”

Her screams were drowned in the ocean waves. Little did she realize that seeing her in this way made his heart bleed as well.

"Please…" She sobbed. Rafayel's dagger was in her grasp, and she pressed it to her throat. "If you won't let me leave... I must free myself..."

"Hush now, my dearest…" Rafayel quietly stretched out to her. This was not her first time in this state. He approached her, placed a hand on her forehead, and brushed away her wind-blown hair. Her fingers on the dagger tightened, urging him to back away. However, Rafayel seized the blade that was cutting into her neck, forcing his hand to bleed.

"You don't want to cut yourself, dear."

She trembled and stared at Rafayel. He hummed a very familiar melody, which made her thoughts muddled once more. The dagger slipped from her hand as she collapsed to her knees on the damp beach. Screaming.

“Be still, dearest love.” Rafayel gently lowered down. His knees were next to hers, as if he, too, was begging her to stay. “I can ease all our suffering… If you listen to me now…”

She covered her ears and shook her head with ferocity as if she never wanted to hear another word from him. Rafayel smiled in bitter. She had been like this lately, forgetting who she was and how profoundly she was in love with him. But that was alright. He would help her rekindle her love. She would obey at once as soon as he began singing.

He sang their song. He sang it the first time they met, and he still sang it day by day with her by his side.

She wept tremendously. She clutched her head and pleaded with him to stop. But Rafayel could never. Just like he could not stop the waves from crashing against the shore, who could ever stop his love for her?

After a while, she became quiet. No more yelling and pleading. She gave him an empty stare and a smile.

"Rafayel." She called his name. Her hand found his body, as though she had desired to be close to him since forever. Rafayel embraced her. He stroked and kissed the top of her head. His tears sank, condensing into pearls and nestling on her hair.

“I'm sorry… I'm sorry for turning you into someone like this…” Rafayel whispered in her ear. “But I've found a way to fix everything. You shall not suffer any longer... And neither shall I..."

Rafayel held her with one hand as the other sought the dagger's hilt in the moist sand.

“Will you do this for me?”

He gazed into the eyes of hers which were dreamy under the spell of love. She nodded.

"I vow to do everything for my dearest beloved."

"Very good." Rafayel smiled as he kissed her lips. "You will always be my Muse… Mine, forever..."

The dagger swung across the fiery sunset. The water chanted its melody in an ancient ritual. Then everything fell silent.

Rafayel watched her passionately as she slept within the water tank he had specifically built for her. That was her home, now and forever.

His hand stroked across the beautiful design. Her body was adorned with jewelry crafted from his teardrops. She was a masterpiece of his lifetime, which extended to no end. His Muse. His lips found hers on the other side of the glass, and he pressed a kiss.

From now on, she would weep no more. She would feel no pain.

A crimson light emanated from inside the pocket near Rafayel's chest. He pulled out a blazing red protocore.

This entire world will soon know that, her true heart shall forever belong to him and him alone.

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bookworm551 · 8 months

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Take the Edge Off | Part 7 | The Bet (2/2)

After losing your bet against Miguel, it’s time for you to pay up.

A/N: alrighty y’all, this is almost entirely smut. Full disclosure, I don’t do BDSM, so I wrote what I was comfortable with. Also, this is like the longest chapter I’ve ever written for anything, so you can see why I broke it up into parts and why it took me so long to finish. Still, I had fun with it :) also, miguel is soooo Lana coded <3

Warnings: smut, temperature play, spanking, handcuffing, sight deprivation, oral f-receiving, orgasm denial/edging, knife play if you squint, and the nastiest of them all—fluff

Word count: 7.5k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

When you emerged from the portal, you were surprised to find yourself standing in a large room. It was similar to your own little apartment you had here on Earth-928, but this was much larger with full-size windows overlooking Nueva York. Despite its size, the apartment was scarcely furnished. There was a large bed on one wall, neatly made, and minimal furniture in the space. It seemed barely lived in, which you were sure was the case given how much Miguel worked.

"What a view," you commented as you stepped towards the large windows that displayed the city below. It was an impressive sight, the bustling vehicles in the air and on the ground zooming around almost like bees in a hive. It was like the people of Earth-57218 but with less beauty and more technology. You could feel Miguel's presence right behind you, and he took a second to watch the busy lives of the people below with you.

You were reminded of your thoughts from earlier that evening about living a normal life. Would he ever have thoughts like that, too? Would he ever think of you the way you thought of him?

Finally, he lifted a hand to the glass and gently tapped it twice with his finger. The glass immediately darkened, cutting off much of the natural light that had been flooding in before. "Don't get distracted," he whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss to your neck. "You lost the bet, and now it's time to pay up."

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words, and you couldn't tell if you were nervous or excited at the prospect of him doing "whatever he wanted" to you.

"Well, I don't get paid until next Friday, so I can get you your money then," you joked, halfway turning to face him. When you looked up at his face, your heart sped up by the hungry look in his eyes. "Money is useless to me," he muttered. "You have what I want right now."

You wanted to reply that money wasn't useless to you, but when he snaked his arm around your torso and pressed his lips to your neck, he stole all the snark out of you. His body leaned forward against your own, and he bent over and lifted you up bridal style.

You chuckled lightly. "This is romantic," you commented as he walked you over to his bed. He set you down gently, and the bed sagged down as he hovered over you. "I would hardly describe what I'm about to do as romantic," he murmured, his eyes alight with lust.

You felt that same flutter of anticipation in your stomach again. "And what are you going to do?" You asked breathlessly. His eyes studied your face with a subtle smirk growing on his lips. "That's for you to find out," he told you smugly. "Why would I spoil the fun?"

You huffed in annoyance at his secrecy. In truth, you were nervous for what he may do to you. Was he going to hurt you? Was he going to leave you covered in marks? What sort of dark fantasies did Miguel O'Hara have hidden away?

He must have been able to read your apprehension on your face because his eyes softened slightly. "I want you to listen very closely," he said. "I'm going to do what I want, but you get to tell me where the line is, okay? That's all you have to say."

You blinked up at him. "Line?" You repeated softly. He nodded and confirmed, "Line." Your heart was racing now in anticipation. Safe words were new for you two, and you wondered how far he wanted to go. Still, it gave you a measure of comfort that he would ultimately defer to what you were willing to do.

He waited for you to respond, so you nodded your understanding at him. A faint grin pulled at his lips before he pressed them onto your own with a kiss. His tongue pushed into your mouth, and you gave a soft moan as he kissed you passionately.

His hands wandered down your arms to your wrists, and he gently removed your web shooters, causing your suit to disappear from your body. You were left laying in his bed in only your bra and underwear. There was a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he stared down at your mostly-naked figure under him.

"Do you remember our first time together?" He asked softly as he ran his hands up your stomach slowly and reached under your back. You arched your body to allow him to unhook your bra while replying with a smirk, "How could I not?" The image of him tied up and begging was forever seared in your mind, and you often thought of it late at night with your hand between your legs.

"Do you remember what I told you then?" He continued as he tossed aside your garment and began palming your breasts with his large hands. Your eyes were closed now in response to his sensual touch, and it made it difficult for you to focus on his question. "No," you admitted softly, shifting your hips to search for some relief from him.

Miguel hummed in mock disappointment, and his hands wandered up from your breasts to lift your arms up over your head. With one hand, he pinned your wrists to the pillow, and you suddenly remembered what he was talking about. I'll get you for this. You also remembered what he had said another time. Payback would be tying you up nice and pretty for me.

Your heart sped up as you realized it was finally time for you to face the music. Miguel saw the realization dawn on your face. "I think you remember," he murmured smugly. You took a shaky breath before nodding slowly. There was a sly grin that grew on Miguel's face.

With one hand still pinning your wrists to the bed, he kissed you. When he broke away from your lips, he whispered, "You know what I'm gonna do, don't you?" Eyes blinking open, you nodded your head without a word. Miguel's eyes danced with lustful intentions, and he continued, "And you're going to let me do it, aren't you?"

One of your eyebrows raised skeptically at him. "I don't really have a choice, do I?" You countered. An amused smirk grew on his lips as he stared down at you. "No," he answered. "No, you don't."

With that, he shot a web at his headboard and slowly, meticulously, he bound your wrists together, leaving you with about a foot of webbing between them and the headboard. You gave an experimental tug on the webbing that restricted your hands and found that he had securely tied your hands, leaving no room for them to pull or move. Your heart was pounding with the thrill of being completely at his mercy. You didn't think Miguel would actually hurt you, but the endless possibilities of things he could do to you made your breathing quicken.

When he was satisfied with his rigging, he leaned back to admire the sight of your body with your hands stretched above your head. "You look even prettier than I imagined like this," he muttered with a self-satisfied smirk. His words made your face glow with a faint blush, and you thought of something to say that would distract you from the warmth you felt at his praise.

"Aww, you think of me when I'm not around?" You asked in an overly-sweet tone, looking up at him through your lashes. Miguel's eyes darkened with desire, and he let out an amused huff. "I think of all the things I could do to shut you up," he said, sitting up and stepping off the bed. Your eyes followed him as he crossed the room.

"Or all the things I could do to make you scream," he continued casually, approaching a door you assumed was his closet. "Or make you beg." He opened the door, and though you strained to see, the door blocked your view from what was inside.

When he finally closed the door, you noticed the silk tie in his hands. You wondered for a split second what it was for, but as he walked back toward you, it suddenly became clear. Crawling back onto the bed, Miguel gave you one final, smug look before gently placing the tie over your eyes and tying it securely behind your head.

"So many things to do," he mused quietly in your ear. "But I think we'll start here." He placed a brief kiss on your lips before slowly trailing down your body. You shivered at his touch, and being deprived of your sight made every kiss feel electric. Reaching for your breasts, he took one in his mouth, running his tongue over your nipple while his hands squeezed your tender skin greedily.

"Fuck," you whispered softly. Your back was arching off the mattress to press into his hands and mouth. His mouth moved lower to your stomach until he reached your underwear. He slowly removed the fabric from your waist, placing kisses down the inside of your thighs as he moved it down your legs. You groaned softly, shifting your legs to try and capture his head and failing. You wanted more of him. You needed more of him.

Just when you thought he was going to move back up to continue feeling your body, you felt his weight lift off the mattress. Your eyebrows scrunched together as you tried to determine what he was doing. Without your sight, you focused heavily on any sounds you could pick up, but Miguel was frustratingly quiet.

"I hope you're not planning on just leaving me here," you commented, desperate to break your anxious silence. Your little quip earned you a small huff, and you determined he was somewhere on the other side of the apartment. You also heard the sound of something opening, and you knew he was retrieving things, but you couldn't figure out what it was.

You wished your premonitory senses would activate to warn you about what he was doing, but your body seemed to know you weren't in any actual danger, so you were left to guess. Your heart leapt as you felt the mattress sag back down with his weight again. He wasn't touching you, but you could feel that he was kneeling next to you.

"Why would I leave you here?" He wondered thoughtfully, and you could hear the undercurrent of lust in his tone. "I have you right where I want you, and you're not leaving until I'm done with you." You shifted on the bed, eagerly anticipating when he was going to touch you again. To break the tension that settled between you, you joked, "Careful O'Hara, your mouth is writing checks your body better be able—"

You cut yourself off with a sharp gasp when you felt something painfully cold press against your nipples. You strained against your bindings to escape the freezing sensation, and after a few seconds, you felt the cold trail in small circles around your breasts before disappearing again, leaving you gasping.

Feeling the wet chill on your skin, you realized Miguel was using ice. "What were you saying?" He asked smugly as you recovered from the cold. You wanted to say something snappy, but you were at a loss for witty words. "Nothing?" He questioned and blew gently against your wet skin, causing you to shudder. Before you could answer him, the cold returned to your nipples, and you thrashed with a loud groan.

Miguel kept the ice against your skin even longer before lifting them off again. This time, he ran his tongue over one of your hardened nipples, and you groaned again at the feeling of his warm mouth against your cold skin. "What pretty noises," he murmured when he moved to your other breast. Your chest was heaving, and your skin was covered in goosebumps from both the ice and his touch.

After a few moments, Miguel lifted himself up off your body. Your hearing was strained as you tried to discern what he was going to do next, but Miguel didn't seem so interested in talking anymore. You tried shifting your legs to subtly feel for him, but he wasn't within reach of you.

Just when you were beginning to wonder where he was, a cube of ice was placed onto your chest just below your throat. Your breath trembled as it slowly melted down your skin, between your breasts, and toward your navel. You jumped when you felt Miguel's cool hands on your thighs, and he slowly wrapped his arms around them.

He had done that enough times for you to know what he was going to do next. Your pussy ached for his mouth while your stomach was tensing with the cold trail of the ice. Miguel placed a few light kisses to your thighs before his lips finally moved to where you wanted them.

You cried in alarm when you realized that Miguel had a small piece of ice on his tongue, and with his mouth vigorously eating you out and his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs, you had no escape from the freezing temperature against your clit. "Mmm, fuck!" You cried out as your body writhed in an effort to escape the cold pressing against your hot entrance.

The extreme cold was deliciously torturous as the ice melted against your pussy and his mouth. When the ice disappeared, Miguel continued eating you out fervently, and you were vaguely aware of the feeling of his webbing digging into your straining wrists. Your startled cries evolved into moans as warmth returned to his mouth and your clit, and his tongue was moving expertly in a way that was making your thighs twitch under his strong hands.

"Oh god, Miguel," you gasped, feeling a tightness form in your core that made you desperate for your release. Miguel moaned against you, the deep bass of his voice sending vibrations against your clit. You wanted nothing more that to wrap your legs around his head and run your fingers through his hair, but the webs at your wrists were still restricting you as well as his strong arms around your thighs.

You breathing turned into panting whines, and you were about to cum when Miguel lifted his mouth off of you. A desperate groan tore from your throat as you tried fighting against his hands to capture his head with your legs to no avail.

"Not yet, cariño," he murmured, sounding slightly winded. "I still have more for you." You could hear the smile that you were sure he was wearing while his body lifted up off the bed. You squeezed your legs together in an effort to give yourself some relief, but it was pointless. Nothing you did could replicate the feeling of his tongue.

Again, you focused hard on trying to figure out where Miguel was and what he was doing. "Are you trying to hide from me?" You asked in hopes of figuring out where he was. You were surprised to hear his amused chuckle right beside you. "I'm not hiding," he told you. "But I love watching you try to find me. You get so restless waiting for me."

Your skin jumped as he brushed his fingers across your stomach, and you could all but see the smug look on his face. "You have no idea what I could do to you," he continued quietly, and you gasped softly when you felt the sharp point of one of his claws trace over your tender skin. He let his claw wander up your stomach all the way to the hollow of your throat before pulling away again.

Your chest was heaving in anticipation for what he would do next. The throbbing between your legs was almost painful, and you were desperate for him to touch you again. You tried pulling your hands down again in vain and felt frustration course through your body at not being able to move.

Just when your anticipation was getting to be too much for you, Miguel came back onto the bed. You could feel his weight settled between your legs, and when you shifted them, you were pleased to feel his thighs between your own. Your lips were parted as you waited for him, your breathing quickened.

A warm, almost hot, liquid poured over your stomach, causing your back to arch and a gasping moan to emerge from your mouth. The heat contrasted so sharply with the chill of the ice that had melted on your skin that it made your body shiver involuntarily. Miguel chuckled darkly at your reaction, pouring more of the hot liquid over your nipples, causing another moan to escape your throat.

The heat felt good once the initial shock subsided, and so when it started to drip down your stomach and off your sides, you sighed in satisfaction. Miguel took a hand and ran it across your body, spreading the oily substance all across your torso. You pushed your body into his hand to encourage him. His other hand also started rubbing the oil across your skin, slowly digging his fingers into the tissue around your hips, up your sides, to your breasts, and around your shoulders.

You moaned at how good it all felt. Being Spider-woman was definitely a harsh and physically demanding job, and you were almost always in some type of pain as a result of it. Your muscles were always tight and your skin always bruised. Now, laying there while Miguel slowly massaged your body with warm oil, you felt like you had died and gone to heaven.

"What did I do to deserve this?" You wondered softly. Miguel hummed in response. "Do you like this?" He asked quietly, his voice soft and deep. You nodded, your voice useless as his fingers reached under your back and massaged the muscles there.

Every movement was slow and intentional, and in that moment, you could've convinced yourself that this was more than just fucking, more than just losing a bet. You wanted to believe that so badly, but that was dangerous thinking. Still, when he kissed your neck while massaging your back with warm oil, you let yourself savor the intimacy of it all.

His hands moved down to your hips and then to your ass, his fingers digging deep into the muscle. You sighed deeply as you lifted your thighs to encourage him. He ran his hands down the outside of your thighs and back up again on the inside. Your breath shuddered as he slowly pushed your legs up, and you wrapped them around his waist, desperate for him to be inside you. "I know, babygirl," he chuckled. "Not yet."

You groaned in frustration. The ache you had for him was almost painful. "Please," you whimpered softly, the desire to feel him stretch you out making you desperate. Miguel hummed thoughtfully, his hands roaming over the skin of your thighs. "I do like it when you say please," he conceded. "Say it again."

You sighed in exasperation. Of course he was going to drag this out. You squeezed your legs around him tighter to bring him closer, and a thrill ran through your body when you felt the head of his cock at your entrance, making you groan in anticipation.

A sharp sting on your ass startled you and made you yelp in surprise. It took a second for you to realize that he had actually spanked you. It sounded more painful that it was, but being deprived of your sight meant that your sense of touch was heightened, and you definitely hadn't expected him to do that.

"I told you not yet," he chastised you sternly. "Now, say it again." Your heart was hammering in your heaving chest. "P-please," you stuttered, trying to think straight. You wished you could see his face or feel his body. It was driving you crazy letting him tease you like this.

"Much better," Miguel murmured softly, rubbing his hand over the spot he had smacked. He teased his length against your hot entrance, causing your breath to hitch and your legs to tighten around him. Seeing your reaction, he moved away again, and you groaned, pressing your head back into your pillow in frustration.

"You're so needy," he said. "Why should I give it to you?" You shifted restlessly under him. Why was he torturing you like this? "Please," you repeated, trying your best to hide the desperation in your voice, "I need you to fuck me."

Miguel hummed in an almost disinterested manner. Clearly, he wanted to hear more. "Because you're the only one who can do it right," you answered breathlessly, raising your leg to brush against the side of his body. "You're the only one I want, Miguel, so please, fuck me." Miguel cursed under his breath. You knew hearing his name would soften his resolve, and you bit your lip in anticipation for what he would do next.

When you felt him tease the head of his cock against your entrance, you sighed softly and had to fight the urge to try pulling him in with your legs again. Instead, you waited with baited breath for him to push into you. As you waited, scarcely allowing yourself to breathe, the mattress sagged down around you as you felt Miguel lean over and hover inches above your body.

"Breathe, baby," he purred in your ear, smugness evident in his voice. The way he spoke was sinful, and you struggled to listen to his instruction. With effort, you managed to take a deep, shaky breath. Miguel placed a gentle kiss under your jaw and murmured, "There's my good girl."

With your second breath, he pushed into you. The air caught in your throat at the feeling of him stretching you out. How did he feel so good every time? Your head pushed back against the mattress as his hips came flush against yours. Your pussy caused Miguel to groan softly, too. "You always take me so well," he commented smugly.

His thrust were slow, tantalizingly slow, and you strained against your bindings as your arms instinctively longed to wrap themselves around his shoulders. "Mmm, shit," you moaned. "You feel so good." Your words made him increase his pace marginally, but it was clear that he was holding back.

You could tell that he had one hand planted next to your body to support himself while the other wandered down between your breasts to your stomach. "Do you feel me here?" He asked as his hand gently pressed down on your lower stomach, right above where his cock was moving in and out of you.

Pornographic sounds poured from your lips from the pressure he was placing. His hand was pressing down against your G-spot from outside your body, and as he moved his hand in small circles, the pleasure it brought you made your hands strain against their binding.

Miguel, too, was enjoying the pressure he added. He was grunting quietly at the feeling of your pussy squeezed around him, and it wasn't long before he picked up the pace and began moving in you at a quickened tempo. His hand came off your stomach as he started thrusting into you faster, and instead, he wrapped his strong arm under your lower back, forcing your body to arch off the bed.

A long whine rose up from your mouth as he railed into you. He was holding you at an angle that made his dick hit just right inside you. You couldn't even breathe properly from the blissful feeling his cock deep inside you. Under your blindfold, your eyes were rolling back into your head, and your legs spread even further apart to allow him to completely bury himself in you.

Your name was falling from Miguel's lips in between quiet curses. Evidently, he was enjoying himself as much as you were, and you could feel how his whole body was consumed with pleasure above you. Having to rely primarily on your hearing for clues, you were more than pleased by the grunts and moans he was making.

With your back still arched from Miguel's arm, it wasn't long before you felt the tightness in your stomach start to form again. Your thighs started to quiver, and your breathing became ragged as you prepared to be overtaken with pleasure, but just when you were reaching your tipping point, Miguel pulled completely out of you.

You let out a loud, frustrated groan at the loss of his cock inside you. Denying you of your orgasm again felt cruel, and you squeezed your thighs together to try and give yourself some relief as you had before to no avail. "Please, Miguel," you whined, begged. "Don't stop."

You felt the weight of the bed shift around you as he moved back. "Not yet, babygirl," he told you, sounding out of breath. You wondered if he had been close to finishing, too, but before you could ponder any further, Miguel's hands wrapped around your hips and flipped you over like you weighed nothing.

With a gasp, you found yourself lying on your stomach. You understood now why he had tied your wrists the way he had. With the length of webbing between your hands and the headboard, you were able to turn over and support yourself on your knees and elbows without any uncomfortable twisting. Now, you were positioned on your stomach, and Miguel's commanding hands propped you up on your knees with your ass up to him.

You felt his hand glide across your back, his palm still slick with oil. "I've been wanting to see you like this for a long time now," Miguel commented under his breath. "You look so fucking perfect on your knees." You let out a short huff at his words. "Are you just going to stare, or are you going to do something about it?" You asked impatiently, still frustrated at being denied your pleasure.

A sharp pain stung your ass as he slapped you in punishment, forcing a gasp from you. "Watch your tone," he told you in a warning voice. You took a shaky breath before nodding submissively. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest in reaction to him spanking you as well as in anticipation of what he may do next.

Juxtaposing the pain he had just inflicted, Miguel placed slow, deliberate kisses up your back starting from the base of your spine. You moaned softly as his lips trailed up your body, seeming to press a kiss over each vertebra. As his mouth moved up your back, his hands roamed up the sides of your body, gripping at your soft skin.

Your breath hitched as each kiss served as a countdown to him being back inside you. His lips wandered up between your shoulders to your neck as his hands gripped your breasts under you. At that point, you were so desperate for him that you arched your back and pushed your ass back toward his hips with a quiet groan.

"Use your words," he prompted in a low voice, and his lips tickled your ear as he whispered to you. You whimpered softly before replying, "More." You could feel how his whole body was hunched over yours, and you could only imagine how his muscular torso looked as it enveloped your frame.

"Mmm, you can do better than that," he stated, and he nipped at your earlobe while teasing his cock against you. You whined and tugged at your bindings again, wishing for the millionth time that you could move freely. "Please, Miguel," you groaned, "I need you to fuck me."

You had almost expected him to drag it out like he had done so many times before, but perhaps hearing you say his name satisfied him, or perhaps he was just as eager to continue what he had so abruptly interrupted. Either way, he didn't require any more begs and pleads before slamming his cock deep into you.

Cries of pleasure tore from your throat as Miguel began pounding into you mercilessly. Your salacious sounds intermingled with the wet smacking of his hips against your ass as he thrust in and out, over and over, into your aching cunt. Miguel growled at the sensation of repeatedly burying his length inside you, and you could hear him grunting under his breath, "Fuck, just like that."

You buried your face in the bedding under you to muffle all the sounds you were making. Arching your back, you pushed your ass up as far as you could, and the feeling of him railing you like that overtook any coherent thought you may have had. You felt Miguel's oily hands grabbing at your waist harshly as he tried keeping a grip on your body.

Suddenly, you felt his claws dig into your hips sharply. You gasped and clenched your teeth at the painful sensation. It was different from his fangs, which still had some degree of pain. This was pain in the most sensitive parts of your waist adjacent to your stomach, and it outweighed the pleasure you were feeling instead of enhancing it.

You hissed sharply in reaction. For a moment, you struggled to remember what he had told you at the beginning. Finally, you uttered, "Line," so quietly that you wouldn't have been surprised if he hadn't heard you, but he did.

Immediately, you felt the sharp sting of his claws retract from your torso, and he grew still before pulling out of you. "Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, and you could hear the notes of concern in his voice. His hands rubbed up your back gently, and you nodded, trying to regain your breath to explain. "It just hurt a little more than I like," you admitted finally.

Gently, he turned you over onto your back again to assess you while his fingers lightly massaged your waist where he had pricked your skin. He placed his lips against your stomach and murmured, "I didn't mean to. You just feel so good." He placed another kiss to your skin before saying, "We can stop."

You quickly shook your head. "No, don't stop," you rushed. "Just...no claws." His fingers continued massaging over the scratches on your skin. "I won't," he promised. "I'm going to make you feel good."

His kisses trailed down slowly from your stomach, and your breath hitched as his lips traced over your sensitive skin. As he kissed you, he inserted 3 fingers into you, earning a soft moan. He moved slowly at first, working to rebuild your trust in him by curling his fingers inside you with a deliberate slowness. As more moans sounded in your throat, he increased the speed of his fingers and lowered his mouth down right above them.

All the echos of pain from his claws were banished by the pleasure his tongue brought you as it lapped at your swollen clit. Your whole body tensed as his hands and mouth worked together in an apology that spoke louder than any combination of words he could say. He told you he was going to make you feel good, and he was clearly telling the truth.

"Oh, fuck," you gasped as your hips moved of their own accord to increase the pressure of his mouth. You wished desperately that you could see him, see how his dark eyes were looking up at you lustfully, see how his muscles were flexing as he moved his fingers in and out of you rapidly. Instead, you had to rely on a combination of your memory and your imagination to recreate the image.

As you started to grow closer to finishing, you tried to suppress any indication that you were about to cum so that Miguel wouldn't keep denying it to you. You tried swallowing your noises, but you couldn't help the way your breathing started to come in short gasps as you felt the familiar tightness forming.

Sure enough, when Miguel heard your tell-tale panting, his fingers stopped moving, and he lifted his mouth off of you. A long, frustrated whine tore from your throat as he pulled his fingers out of you. "I know, love," he murmured, sounding out of breath. "Wait for me."

The mattress shifted as he moved himself up, and before you could make another complaint about his teasing, he pushed his cock back into you. Your whines turned to moans as he started moving inside you, and he snaked his arm under your lower back again and lifted your torso into an arch. He pounded away into you, and at that angle, his length hit your G-spot every time.

You couldn't speak as all the air had been snatched from your lungs. The best you could do was make quiet, strangled moans as pleasure overtook every other feeling in your body. Though your eyes were still blindfolded, you were seeing stars, and above you, you could hear the grunts that Miguel made with every thrust.

With the angle he was holding you at, it wasn't long before that tightness returned. Your thighs started to quiver as your breathing grew shallow again. "Don't stop," you pleaded desperately between ragged breaths. He didn't respond, but he also didn't stop. His own breaths came in quick pants, and you heard the sound of splintering wood above your head which you realized was his claws digging into the headboard.

Finally, you hit your breaking point. All of Miguel's edging paid off because your legs began shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave. You were practically screaming as you came hard around him, every nerve in your body ablaze with ecstasy. The intensity of what you were feeling was indescribable. You couldn't even feel how the bindings around your wrists were cutting into your skin as you writhed under him; there was only complete and utter pleasure.

Miguel groaned loudly at how you tightened around his cock, and with a few more quick, desperate thrusts, he was gasping your name as he came inside you. Your quivering legs wrapped tightly around his torso as you continued riding your high while his muscles tensed in pleasure. Together, your bodies were both shuddering, and your minds were both clouded with overwhelming bliss.

As the haze of your orgasm finally began to lift, you registered the sounds of your heavy breathing along with Miguel's. There was also the sound of more splintering wood as he withdrew his claws from the headboard above you. His head rested on your shoulder as he recovered from his high, his hot breath fanning against your skin. Your legs fell away from his waist as your body went limp. Neither of you moved for a few moments as you took them to remember how to speak again.

Finally, with a short grunt, Miguel pulled out of you, earning a quiet whine from you. You felt empty without him, and as he pushed himself off your body, you felt exposed, unprotected. You hated it.

To your tremendous relief, however, he cut away the bindings around your wrists and lifted the blindfold from your eyes. Your arms ached from all the times you tried pulling them down, and you groaned softly as you brought them down to your sides. Blinking your eyes opened, the scene around you looked blurry, but you could still make out Miguel's face hovering above you, some of his hair dangling over his dark eyes fixed intently on you.

You raised up one of your newly liberated hands to cup his cheek as you tried forcing your eyes to focus. He placed his hand over yours and pressed a soft kiss to your palm. "How do you feel?" He asked finally, breaking the long stretch of silence between you. He sounded exactly how you felt—spent.

You couldn't answer him; the ability to form words hadn't fully return to you. Instead, you pulled his face down to yours and kissed him like it was the last time you could ever do it. His hand left yours to slide under your back and pull you closer as he kissed you with as much passion as you gave. Your arms were finally able to do what they had longed to do the whole time and wrapped themselves around his neck to hold him close.

You didn't want it to end, didn't want to pull away from him. This was more than just lust, at least it was for you. If he had asked you to stay with him in that bed forever, you weren't sure you would say no. It was a dangerous temptation.

After a moment, Miguel broke away from your lips. "Are you feeling alright?" He asked softly. You nodded your head, still not ready to use your voice. "Was it too much?" He questioned, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of discomfort. You shook your head mutely, and his lips started to quirk upward at your silence.

"Can you use words?" He asked in amusement. Your lips pulled up to mirror his smirk, and you shook your head in reply. "That good?" He surmised with no small amount of pride. You rolled your eyes before nodding at him. In all honesty, it was the best you'd ever had. He was the best you'd ever had.

Your hand dropped from his face to rest on your stomach as you sighed deeply with closed eyes. Your body still hummed with the aftermath of your high, and you felt you didn't have the energy to do anything except lay there with him.

Miguel glanced down at your hand and carefully lifted it off your body to inspect it. Around your wrist were angry red markings from when you had fought against your bindings. They didn't even hurt really, but they didn't look pretty either.

"I'm sorry about this," he murmured softly as he traced his fingers over the skin of your wrists. You looked up at his face and realized that this was the first time you had ever heard him apologize about anything, and by his gentle voice and concerned face, you knew he was being sincere.

His eyes moved away from your hands to look at you, and you offered him a soft smile. "Payback," you whispered, finally breaking your own muteness. Your comment seemed to assuage the concern he had for accidentally hurting you, and a subtle smile formed on his lips. "Payback," he agreed.

You held his gaze for a moment, relishing the way his face softened at you. There was a sheen of sweat on his skin that gleamed in the dim light of his room. Neither of you said anything, you simply admired each other in silence while your bodies were still humming with pleasure.

"We should get cleaned up," he murmured finally. You closed your eyes with a quiet groan. "I don't want to move," you told him with a sigh. He smirked down at you before sitting up. "Come on," he said quietly as he moved his arms under your body.

You giggled as he picked you up and carried you out of bed the same way he took you to it. His skin was warm, and when you leaned your head against his chest, you could hear his steady heartbeat in his chest.

He carried you like that into his bathroom before setting you down in front of the shower. It was extremely spacious with the shower head placed high above you. He turned on the water, and after a few moments, steam began filling the air, and you stepped under it together.

Neither of you spoke a word the whole time. You were still reeling from everything he had done to you, and Miguel didn't seem to mind the silence. There was something intimate about the two of you together, completely exposed for each other and yet not engaging in anything sexual.

Miguel had wordlessly offered you a wash cloth that you were now using to lather soap onto your body. As you washed away all the evidence of your activities together, you were replaying what just happened in your mind. Babygirl, cariño, love—all those nicknames he gave you in the heat of the moment echoed in your head. Did he ever mean them? Or did he just get swept away in all the sweat and hormones and say them?

You watched as he let the water run over his head, and you noticed all the scars that scattered across his back. It took all your willpower not to trace your fingers across his muscular shoulders. You loved seeing him with his guard down, and as he wiped away the water from face, you were reminded that he wasn't some untouchable deity like some of the other Spiders thought; he was just a man.

You weren't sure how long you were in there before Miguel finally turned the water off. You stood and waited while he retrieved two towels for you both. He ran his over his hair before tying it around his waist. Then, he came over and wrapped your towel around your body.

You were about to make a quiet joke about how you could do it yourself, but as he covered your body with the towel, he kept his arms wrapped around your form, his body engulfing yours as he pulled you against his chest. He held you like that for a few seconds, and the idea of you speaking in a moment like that felt irreverent.

Finally, he broke the silence between you by whispering, "You're staying here tonight?" It seemed like less of a question than an assumption, and you wondered if you had only imagined the hopeful tone in his voice. Wordlessly, you nodded. Of course you would stay the night. You would stay every night if you could.

He pulled away from your body after another second, allowing you to secure your towel around your torso. He left you alone in the bathroom as you continued drying yourself off, and when you came back out to his room, you found him under the covers with his eyes closed. You thought he was asleep for a moment, but as you approached the bed, his eyes blinked open to look at you.

Letting your towel fall away, you crawled into bed with him. Without a word, you gave Miguel a long, slow kiss before settling down next to him. Almost as soon as your head hit the pillow, you realized just how exhausted you were by your excursions together, and you felt yourself drifting off in no time.

You were brought back to consciousness when you heard him whisper your name. "Hmm?" You replied lazily, unsure of whether or not you imagined it in your dozing. Your eyes were still closed as you heard him sigh.

"You can come on the mission."

You were definitely imagining things now. Your eyes fluttered open in confusion, and you found him looking at your face expectantly. "What?" You questioned, unable to process what he had said.

"You can come on the mission with me," he repeated softly. You lifted your head up off the pillow as you understood what he was telling you. "But—but I lost the bet," you told him. His lips bore a faint smile at your reaction. "I told myself if you could make it to sundown, I'd let you come," he explained.

You stared at him, dumbfounded. The complete surprise you felt at him completely eclipsed any sort of joy you would feel at being able to go on the mission. Finally, you asked, "Why?" He didn't respond for a moment, but when he did, he said, "You were right. You are one of the best."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Not only had Miguel O'Hara changed his mind, but he had admitted that you were right about something. Never in a million years would you have thought that even one of those statements would be true, let alone both.

"Don't get too excited," he warned, noticing your reaction to his words. "After this, no more missions with me. This is just the exception." A smile slowly grew on your face, the idea finally settling into your mind that you got to be on the coveted team to bring down the anomaly. "Because you need me," you asserted playfully.

Miguel rolled his eyes at you. "Don't push it," he grumbled, making you chuckle. "Okay, fine," you replied as you laid your head back down on the pillow, and after a beat of silence, you added with all the sincerity you possessed, "Thank you." You both stared at each other wordlessly for a moment until he said gently, "You're welcome."

With that, you closed your eyes again and let sleep finally overcome your body.

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