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#these photos are stunning of a stunning subject
jackiefour · 2 years
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Mason Alexander Park
as photographed by https://instagram.com/fuckthatnoise?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
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incorrectbatfam · 6 months
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On the subject of Damian and the axolotl, I feel like people do send him pictures of animals and stuff and he gives a rating, idk tho
Stranger: I thought you'd like to know that Lacey had her puppies. *sends a pic*
Damian: For once, a mother who should be proud. 10/10.
———————
Stranger: *sends a derpy cat pic* This is my cat Momo, short for Movie-Theater Mozzarella-Sticks. He just turned 3 and likes to eat pillow feathers.
Damian: Truly the cat of all time. 10/10.
———————
Stranger: I think I saw Krypto the Superdog on my way to work. *sends blurry video of Krypto flying*
Damian: There goes Metropolis's hero. 10/10.
———————
Stranger: *sends a pic of a lizard in a pointy hat* This is King Gizzard, my lizard, as a wizard for Halloween.
Damian: I would give him all my candy. 10/10.
———————
Stranger: *sends a video of their parrot*
The parrot: Polly loves crackers and Damian.
Damian: Tell Polly I love her too. 10/10.
———————
Stranger: Bruh there are so many gophers at Gotham U. *sends pic of gophers chilling in the quad*
Damian: 10/10. Good for them, living their best life.
———————
Stranger: Do fish count? If so here's Bubbles. *sends video of a goldfish*
Damian: They absolutely do. 10/10.
———————
Stranger: I went to my aunt's farm and got to ride the horses. Meet Dash. *sends Instagram story with a horse*
Damian: A fine specimen. 10/10.
———————
Stranger: Opinions on this stingray? *sends scuba diving footage*
Damian: Superb. 10/10.
———————
Stranger: I found a worm. What should I name him? *sends pic*
Damian: He looks like a Kevin. 10/10.
———————
Stranger: This is me and my stepdad with the hens we've been raising. *sends pic*
Damian: What lovely ladies. 10/10.
———————
Stranger: I went to a butterfly garden today. *sends video of a butterfly landing on their hand*
Damian: Stunning. 10/10.
———————
Stranger: I just got back from a safari. *sends album of savannah herds*
Damian: Next time take me with you. 10/10.
———————
Stranger: *sends a Ratatouille GIF*
Damian: Don't tell my family but I'm training my rats to do the same. 10/10 by the way.
———————
Stranger: This is Herbie, our class bunny. *sends a pic with the teacher fumbling in the background*
Damian: He looks more intelligent than your teacher. 10/10.
———————
Stranger: *sends pic* Got bored and bought a frog. I'm naming him Toad.
Damian: I hope your life is as dull as ever. 10/10.
———————
Stranger: Tzu Tzu keeps leaving her laundry everywhere. *sends video of a snake shedding its skin*
Damian: You're her assistant. Do your job. 10/10.
———————
Stranger: I finally got a hamster!! *sends video*
Damian: Now treat them like royalty and get yourself some tubing. 10/10.
———————
Stranger: Ideas for decorating my hermit crab's shell? For context his name is Juan and he likes the color yellow. *sends pic*
Damian: I suggest black and gold. 10/10.
———————
Stranger: I saw a turtle on my morning walk. *sends a pic*
Damian: Ethereal. 10/10.
———————
Bruce: *sends a family photo*
Damian: *blocks and reports*
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xxblairexxss · 8 months
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Subjectivity in art
Pairing : Charles Leclerc x artist!painter!reader
Theme : fluff
Requested!
This is so much fun to make thank you for the request, anon! 🩷
﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎
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f1gossip has added to their story
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ynusername
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Liked by charles_leclerc and 528 others
ynusername 🖼️
username1 charles is so fast slow down no one’s beating your record as her 1st like 😆😂
username2 is she the new gf?
username3 he’s just liking her posts
username4 will you ever post your face
username7 can we see your face
username5 leave her alone guys
username6 you guys be attacking every girl he was ever rumoured to be with
charles_leclerc has added to their story
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ynusername
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Liked by charles_leclerc and 728 others
ynusername 🤍
charles_leclerc you are an art
username1 ariana what are you doing here
username2 i just know she’s gorgeous af
username3 the dresss is to die for
username4 so is charles looking at the art or he’s looking at you bcs i don’t think he even paid any attention to the work 😂
username5 how cute is it that charles went with her to the art gallery 🥹🥹
username6 charles come on how could you pull her with that horrible rizz 😤
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ynusername has added to their story
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charles_leclerc has added to their story
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ynusername
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Liked by charles_leclerc and 4290 others
ynusername the pancakes were yummy! username1 you are so talenteeed!
username2 i couldn’t even draw a straight line
username3 have you ever had your drawings in an art gallery?
ynusername one day, I wish! 🥹
username4 you are so talented!
username5 you are like living in a pinterest 🥰
charles_leclerc
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Liked by joris__trouche, ynusername, and 1,825,386 others
charles_leclerc coffee and art makes her happy
ynusername You make me happy too!
username1 SHE’S BEAUTIFUL???
username2 i knew she was stunning even from her back
username3 you bagged her with that horrible rizz of yours? what did you even say? username4 She’s soooo prettyyyyyy though my heart is a little broken
username5 woah wasn’t expecting charles to be the one who upload her face
username6 finally! someone who is not an instagram model as a wag
charles_leclerc
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Liked by pierregasly, ynusername, and 1,926,027 others
charles_leclerc a little celebration ❤️
username1 WHAT CELEBRATION?!
username2 y’all getting married?
username3 omg no slow down you proposed already???
username4 She slay every outfit 🥹🩷
username5 I need her wardrobe 😩
ynusername
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Liked by charles_leclerc and 27,625 others
ynusername I don’t really want to post this but my boyfriend said I look pretty in white 🤍
username1 and your boyfriend is right you look the prettiest in white
username2 are you getting married to your boyfriend
username3 ppl need to chill not you guys assuming they are getting married just because she’s wearing a white dress??
username4 they are just on a date like normal couple what’s the big deal
username6 I loveeeee your outfitss!
ynusername
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Liked by charles_leclerc and 5285 others
ynusername Had my first work to be displayed at an art gallery in Paris! 🤍✨
username1 Lol charles probably had something to do with it 🙄
username3 get the fuck off
username2 omg you deservedd itt! 🥹
username4 WELL DESERVEED! 🩷
charles_leclerc So proud of you, my love ❤️
username5 need the tutorial on the hair
charles_leclerc
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Liked by arthur_leclerc, ynusername and 1,995,427 others
charles_leclerc the proudest boyfriend
ynusername I love youu!
username1 living the pinterest boyfriend life
username2 parentssss 🩷
username3 it’s just so obvious how in love charles is based on the photos he uploaded
username4 the second pic?!?! ❤️❤️❤️❤️
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✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @xcinnamongirl
If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!
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mrdixon · 3 months
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My eyes only
pairing: established daryl x f!reader
wc: 4.4k
warnings: 18+ content, “christmas light bondage” (iykyk), whipped cream, praise, oral (male receiving), fingering, p-in-v, unprotected sex, kinda overstimulation, creampie, mentions of aftercare
summary: christmas with daryl
A/N: merry LATE christmas!! was debating making this a sub daryl fic but maybe next time… rugged muse chapter 2 will most definitely be the next fic posted….
masterlist
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You were waltzing around the house, throwing around decorations while your husband slept blissfully unaware upstairs. You threw on one of his shirts, wearing your fluffy pajama pants underneath. You had set up his Christmas present next to the tiny artificial tree on the counter, the present wrapped with a cute red ribbon on top.
You chuckled as you plated some sugar cookies you made the night before, making two mugs of hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream.
You moved towards the record player and flipped through the different records, settling for some Christmas music to really set the mood. Humming the tune to yourself quietly as you softly walked up the stairs, smiling widely when you found Daryl by the doorframe of your room.
His matching pajama pants hung loosely around his hips, you had to do some convincing to get him to wear them. He rubbed his eyes, yawning as he glanced you over. “Yer wearin’ my shirt?”
You took notice to the lack of clothing on his upper half, “I am, why? You couldn't find a shirt?” You chuckled, walking up to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. He grunted in response, his arms sliding around your waist while he buried his face in your neck.
“Wha’ the hell is tha’ noise?” He grumbled into your hair, pulling back to investigate. You giggled as you followed your husband and watched him stumble sleepily towards the stairs, the Christmas music becoming more clearer the farther you both went down.
He stood at the base of the stairs, clearly stunned by the effort you put into making this Christmas the best one yet. You walked up behind him, threading yourself around his arm.
“You like it?” You murmured, looking up at his face. Daryl had never experienced a real Christmas before, so this was all new to him. He wasn't emotional but you knew he would’ve been, instead his eyes just glanced around.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, looking down at you. “It's nice,” he leant down to kiss your forehead, his free hand moving to the back of your head. You sighed contently, leaning in to his kisses before grabbing his hand and leading him to the counter. He sat on one of the stools, letting you slide over the mug of hot chocolate to him. Though not liking sweets all that much, he didn't complain and sipped it.
You chuckled and pointed towards the gift by the tiny tree, his head turning to look at it. He quickly looked back at you and raised a brow.
“For me?” He asked, you nodded in response and watched him grab the box. He stared down at it for a moment, nibbling the inside of his lip before pulling the ribbon and letting it fall away. He lifted the top of the box and looked inside, a smile creeping onto his face. He pulled out the scuffed wood figurine of a dog, he looked at you, your hands clasped together as you waited for his reaction. His gaze travelled down to your hands, noticing the little cuts and scratches on them, presumably from carving this figurine yourself. He chuckled and looked back at the figurine, placing it down on the counter before returning to the box. He pulled out a small film camera, his eyes sparkling. You knew how much he loved taking photos, you being his favourite subject. He thought he was being secret about his hobby but you noticed, you always did.
“Like it?” You asked nervously, your hands still clasped together.
“Like it? I love it,” he breathed out, leaning in to kiss you tenderly. “Thank you so much babe,” he smiled a genuine smile, one you loved seeing. He muttered something before getting up and running up the stairs, you sat still and waited patiently for his return.
He ran back downstairs, his hand behind his back. You tilted your head slightly, a wide smile on your face as you looked at him.
“’s not much, but I also got ya somethin’…” he mumbled and revealed a small fox plushie. You giggled when you saw it, taking it from him and laughing joyfully at it.
“Oh my god, Daryl!” You giggled, looking down at the plush in awe. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, sitting back on the stool.
“I found it when I was out the other day,” he murmured softly. “Figured ya’d like it.”
“Oh I love it,” you smiled brightly at him before engulfing him in your arms, “I love you so much, thank you.”
“I love ya too,” he said muffled by your hair while he draped his arm around your waist, “love ya so much.” He got up to properly hug you, kissing along your neck lightly. His kisses tickled but you let it happen, squeezing him. You pulled back to kiss him briefly, and then sat down on your own stool. He watched you pick up your mug and drink some of the hot chocolate, smiling softly at you. Your eyes darted over to him and you chuckled.
“What’s with that look?” You scrunched up your face, he shrugged and bit his lip.
“Yer just… gorgeous,” he mumbled, “my prettiest girl.” He reached forward to wipe some whipped cream off the corner of your mouth, bringing his thumb to his mouth to lick it off. His gaze shifted down to your lips, rubbing his chin while you watched desire glaze over his eyes. You stood up slowly and looked over to the counter where you grabbed the can of whipped cream before walking over to him. His head tilted upwards to look at you standing over him, you watched his adam’s apple bob when he swallowed.
His hands found purchase on your hips, looking up at you while you held the whipped cream in your hand. “I got another gift for you…” you whispered.
“Mmh, yeah?” His voice quivered, his fingers rubbing your hips. “Have a feelin’ I’ll love it.”
“You will,” you whispered and leaned in to kiss him, a small whimper left his mouth while your free hand came up to cup his cheek.
Your thumb rubbed back and forth against his cheek as his tongue prodded at your lips, seeking entrance. You smirked into the kiss and let him in, your tongues tangling as his grip on your hips tightened. You pulled back and squirted some whipped cream onto your finger, wiping it onto his nose, then his cheeks. He scrunched his face up at the feeling, his eyes shining as he looked into your eyes, curious as to what you were doing. You just smiled sweetly, your tongue darting out to lick the cream off his nose, leaving open mouthed kisses on his cheeks. He let out a low chuckle at the feeling, wiping his face after you were done.
“Wha’ are ya doin’ now?” He grinned, shaking his head while his hands rubbed up and down your sides. “Gonna let me have ya?”
“I will…” you hummed, unbuttoning your shirt and handing him the whipped cream. He raised a brow, glancing down at your cleavage. “What? Gotta make it enjoyable.”
“Suckin’ on yer tits is already enjoyable,” he snorted and pulled you onto his lap. He helped push off your shirt and placed sweet kisses on the tops of your breasts, you hummed delightfully and took the can from him. He pulled back and watched as you sprayed some whipped cream on your breasts, the cream slid down but he caught it, with his lips.
You let out a quiet hum as he sucked on your breasts, licking up the whipped cream that stained them. Your fingers threaded through his hair as he licked you clean from the sticky mess, his eyes half lidded when he looked up at you. You grinned, feeling his erection press against your ass.
“Wanna go upstairs?” You hummed sweetly, gently rubbing along his temples. He didn't reply, picking up the ribbon and camera before standing up with you in his arms, walking towards and up the stairs. You giggled, squeezing around his neck and pushing his face into her breasts. He grunted but placed small kisses onto them as he walked into your shared bedroom.
He placed you down on the bed, the camera placed down next to you while he kissed from your neck and down to your stomach. Your hands dropped the whipped cream and went into his hair, rubbing along his biceps.
“Enough of tha’,” he mumbled to which you raised a brow. He took the ribbon you wrapped his gift with and took your hands, tying them together.
“Hey,” you started, trying to pull your hands apart. He shook his head at you, tightening them even more, but not enough to hurt. He then took your arms and pulled them above your head, using the extra ribbon to tie them to the headboard. “I wanna touch you..” you whined.
“Not righ’ now,” Daryl chuckled, leaning down to kiss your lips while pulling off your pajama pants. You could feel his teeth bite into your lips, pulling back to bite at your neck. You sighed softly, your eyelids fluttering closed when his large hands gripped onto your thighs, keeping you from spreading your legs.
His tongue slipped out to taste your skin, a small whimper escaping your lips as he dragged his tongue down your body. He pressed an open mouthed kiss on the space below your belly button, his thumbs rubbing against the thin fabric of your panties. His warmth left you suddenly and you opened your eyes to see him kneeling above you, the camera in hand snapping photos of you in this position. You blushed, turning your head away only to be turned back, his one hand holding your face as he took photos of you.
“These better not be seen by anyone else,” you warned lightly. He pushed your thigh playfully.
“Nah, ‘s fer my eyes only.” He mumbled, biting his lip as he snapped a few more photos before placing the camera down. He picked up the can of whipped cream, squirting some into his mouth before coming down to kiss you. A delighted noise escaped your mouth as you tasted the sweetness of the cream, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth. He broke the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you two while he looked into your eyes. “Where did ya put the rest of the ribbon?”
“In the closet, brown box on the floor.” You murmured, your breathing unsteady. He kissed your lips once more and then got up, your eyes watching his back as he got to the closet. You heard him rummaging through the clothes, turning around with a thick red ribbon in his hand. A mischievous smirk played at his lips when he crawled onto the bed, watching your confused expression.
“Relax,” he murmured, his fingers dancing over the silky material before pulling it under your neck, around and tying it. “Too tight?” You shook your head and he smiled at you, tying the ribbon into a bow. He leaned over you to grab the camera again and started taking more photos of you, rubbing his bottom lip while he did.
“What’s this for?” You grinned, winking for the camera. He chuckled and ran his fingers through your hair, gripping it tightly and took photos of his hand in your hair.
“Yer my gift righ’? Gotta make sure ya look the part,” he snorted and released his grip on your hair. He placed his palm on your chest, running it over the curves of your breasts and down your stomach before stopping right on your mound.
Your lips parted in a silent cry when his thumb came down to rub your clit over your panties, pressing hard against it. You tugged at your restraints but they didn’t budge, you squirmed as he continued his relentless attack on your bundle of sensitive nerves. He breathed a little harder once your arousal started seeping through the thin fabric, your moans getting louder. He replaced his thumb with his pointer and middle fingers, rubbing them against your folds, groaning as your panties became damp. Your head fell back as well as you stopped resisting against the ribbons keeping you restrained, your mouth open to let out noises of pleasure.
His hand left your clothed pussy, a whine of protest escaping your lips while you lifted your head again. Daryl only smirked at you and picked up the can of whipped cream once again, making two tiny dollops on your nipples. Your breasts shook as you laughed, shaking your head.
“You’re such a freak,” you laughed as he snapped photos of you.
“Well yer the one with whipped cream on yer tits,” he chuckled and bent down to suck on your right nipple, his wet muscle swirling around the bud. You whined, squeezing your legs together to suppress the aching between them. His hands pushed them apart as he moved to the other nipple, licking you clean of the mess. Your pussy throbbed violently, your muscles straining to pull your legs together again, but his strength was stronger. His teeth bit on your nipple, your eyes meeting his piercing ones when you looked down. Daryl’s eyes were full of pure lust and affection, his lips wrapped around your nipple, moving down to leave hickeys along your breasts. You sighed heavily, biting your lip to silence any noises from leaving your mouth. His hand suddenly squeezed your other breast, “I dun’ like tha’. Keep moanin’ beautiful.”
You let out a deep breath as he pulled away, watching him pull his pajama pants down along with his boxers. His cock sprang out, a pathetic moan left your lips when you saw it. He almost laughed, watching your hands scratch at your own fingers in anticipation. He groaned deeply, taking his thick cock into his hand and stroking it while watching your panties get even wetter just at the sight. He caught you licking your lips and moved to your side, kneeling by your face.
“Come, look at me baby.” He murmured and gently took your face in his hand, his other holding his cock. “Ya wanna suck me off like a good girl?”
You nodded eagerly, opening your mouth as you looked up at him with those wide eyes. He smirked and rubbed your cheek with his thumb before sliding his cock into your mouth, taking his time. Your tongue ran across his slit, tasting the saltiness of his precum. Daryl let out a low groan, one hand cupping your jaw while the other went into your hair. Your tongue ran down his length, tracing over the one angry vein while you breathed through your nose. His hips bucked forward involuntarily, causing you to gag on his cock. He murmured an apology and rubbed your jaw, slowly rocking his hips back and forth, not going too deep into your mouth.
“Such a good girl fer me, suckin’ my cock like tha’..” he praised, tugging your hair ever so lightly. His head lulled back, the grip on your hair tightening as his thrusts got quicker. “Fuck… jus’ like tha’..” It was harder to breathe but you couldn’t care less, looking up at him as you continued to swirl your tongue around his length. His groans became more erratic, thrusting deeper into your mouth. The head of his cock pressed the back of your throat, making you gag.
“Good baby… so fuckin’ good, ya take my cock so fuckin’ well.” He moaned, looking down at you. Your teary eyes looked up at him as he continued to fuck your mouth, one hand was rubbing your jaw while the other pulled your hair back. Your hands yearned to touch him, pulling at the ribbon but to no avail, didn’t come free. You closed your eyes and heard the sound of the camera shutter, hearing quiet murmurs from him. You flattened your tongue against his velvet skin, taking him impossibly deeper into your mouth. He cursed loudly, pulling his cock out before he could cum. You coughed, saliva dribbling down your chin. He released your hair and brought both hands down to wipe your face. Your head felt light, almost like you were drunk on his cock. Your lips made contact with his, an involuntary moan leaving your mouth into his at the contact.
He moved away from you, moving towards the bottom of the bed. Finally, he pulled your panties off. Your pussy fluttered at the cool air, your breath hitching as he ran his fingers through it. His fingers pushed in, groaning at how easily they slipped in.
“Jesus christ girl, so wet huh?” He teased, rubbing his fingers tips on the inside of your wall. Your head throwing itself back as rough moans escaped you. Your nails dug into your palms, gasping for air. He dragged his fingertips along your walls as he pushed in deeper, his thumb rubbing your needy clit.
“Daryl…” you let out a sob, tears prickling at your eyes. The sensitivity was too much, though having not done much yet. He shushed you, continuing to pump his fingers in and out of your while teasing your clit. You felt you legs go weak, a cold feeling in your feet as you cried out softly. “Dar… please I can’t…”
“Ya can, gonna make ya cum fer me.” His free hand reached up to rub circles around your nipple, “can ya do that fer me? Huh gorgeous?” His fingers curled inside you, hitting that soft spot perfectly. A loud cry erupted from your mouth, feeling that knot tie, threatening to snap. He rolled your nipple in his fingers, his other hand speeding up the pace. Your legs thrashed while your hands pulled against the ribbon, moans leaving your lips involuntarily. “C’mon pretty girl, yer doin’ so good.”
The praises whispered into your ear threw you over the edge. Your walls closed in on his fingers, throbbing around them as you came. You gasped, groaning deeply as your eyes closed. He kissed your forehead softly, the hand on your breast coming up to your neck. His lips moved down to kiss you, your soft lips moving with his while the hand caressed the space below your jaw comfortingly.
“Good girl,” he mumbled against your lips, “can ya handle another one or do ya wanna stop ‘ere?”
“No… no I need you,” your voice was hoarse. He nodded and pecked your lips quickly before moving back to kneel between your legs.
“Guess ‘s time I unwrapped my gift.” His eyes glimmered, reaching forward to pull at the ribbon around your neck, letting it lay around your shoulders before reaching up to free your hands. You sighed in relief, your arms coming down to lay by your sides, his own fingers rubbing the skin on your wrists. “All good?”
“Mhm,” you hummed, wrapping your arms around his neck. He chuckled and kissed the inside of your biceps, lifting your thighs apart and around his hips. His elbows came to rest on either side of your head, leaning over you and kissed the tip of your nose. You let out a quiet giggle that was soon replaced by a whimper as he pressed the head of his cock against your clit.
You breathed heavily through your nose as he rubbed his tip up and down through your folds, teasing your already sensitive pussy. You turned your head to the side, closing your eyes while your chest rose and fell with every heavy breath you took. Daryl’s lips found your jaw and licked across it, pressing gentle kisses along your jawline.
“I ain’ gonna make ya wait any longer, ya’ve been such an obedient girl.” He whispered into your ear, his hot breath tickling you. He reached down with one hand to take hold of his cock, guiding it into your depths slowly. His length invaded your warm wetness, stretching you out. A soft moan emitted from your mouth, closing your eyes. His body trembled above you, clearly holding back from pounding roughly into you. He wanted to be as gentle as he could with you, making sure it wasn’t painful. As soon as he bottomed out in you, he let out a deep throaty groan, pressing his forehead against yours. His hips stuttered as he held still in you, moving his hands to the sides of your head.
“I’m good, move… Daryl please move,” you whined softly, feeling his lips kiss your cheeks gently. He shushed you, withdrawing his hips slowly, feeling your walls grip onto him. He pulled out just so his tip was inside before slamming back in, a choked moan releasing from your lips. He kept his face buried in the crook of your neck, you could feel his heavy breaths against your skin. He repeated this movement, keeping it slow but deep.
Your nails gently dug into his back, rubbing over the crescent shaped marks with your fingertips. He grumbled, his chest rubbing against yours as his pace slowly picked up. His cock slid in and out of you with ease, as well as moans escaped your mouth more freely. His hands slid down your sides, finding its place on your hips. He leaned back, sitting on his knees, your thighs over his as he bucked into you over and over.
The angle was just right, hitting the soft spongey part deep inside you, the part that made your eyes roll back into your head and see stars. The base of his palms lay along your pelvis, his fingers wrapped around the sides of your hips, pulling you towards him to meet his thrusts. Your hands couldn’t figure out where to go, alternating between squeezing his wrists or squeezing your breasts. You could feel his cock pulse inside you, dragging along your velvety walls with every stroke.
“Mmmh, look at ya… so perfect fer me,” he rasped, taking that damn camera again and snapping photos of you. “So pretty, gorgeous.” Your eyes fluttered shut, mewling softly. You could hear him toss the camera to the side, his palms landing flat on the mattress by your sides, ramming himself into you roughly. Your face screwed up in pleasure, your brows knitted together in pure ecstasy while your jaw went slack. Your moans filled the air with the sound of his balls slapping against your ass, and soon you felt a warm heat in your belly.
“Mmph, Daryl..” you whimpered, squeezing his hips with your thighs, signaling your impending orgasm.
“I know, ‘s okay.” He murmured sweetly, leaning over you to kiss you. His kisses were soft and gentle, contrasting with the harsh thrusts he gave you. The head of his cock kissing your sweet spot every stroke, causing your back to arch and press your chest against his. He took the opportunity to slip his arm under your back, his free hand coming down to squeeze your ass. His breath was heavy and his kisses turned sloppy, so you knew he was also close.
“I’m gonna cum,” you moaned out.
“C’mon girl…” he groaned, the hand on your ass slipping down to your thigh and pulling your leg over his shoulder. You threw your head back in bliss, moaning loudly as the angle changed. The head of his cock directly abusing that spot of yours, sending hot pleasure up your body. Your own hands grasped at the sheets, knuckles white with how hard you were squeezing. “So fuckin’ tight, gonna cum fer me?”
“Yes!” You shouted, your throat hoarse and your moans raspy. You surrendered to the pleasure, laying limp against the bed as he continued to fuck you deeply. Obscene sounds of your pussy squelching around his cock filled your ears, the bedsprings squeaking with the intensity of his movements.
“Good girl, c’mon.” He moaned, biting his lip as he pushed his limits. Your mouth opened wide in a silent scream, eyes rolling back as you came. Your walls tightened around his length and he groaned shakily, “shit, fuck.” You felt his warm release coat your walls as he came inside you. His hips stuttered, moving back and forth slightly as he fucked you both through your orgasms. He collapsed on top of you, his lips sucking on your collarbone. You out a sigh when he pulled out, his body leaving yours. You just closed your eyes, your pussy throbbing around nothing as his seed poured out of you. You heard the snap of the camera once again and raised your head.
“Stop that,” your grumbled, a small smile on your lips. “I gave you that to take pictures of the pretty things you like.”
“Yeah? Well I’d say you and yer pussy are quite the pretty things.” He snorted, moving off the bed and into the bathroom. You sighed and shook your head, closing your eyes as you lay back. The sound of water running could be heard from the bathroom, soon Daryl emerged again holding a damp cloth. You breathed out quietly as the cold water met your warm skin, his hand making gentle ministrations in between your legs to wipe you clean.
After he was done he kissed your forehead and tossed the cloth in the hamper before crawling into bed next to you. You scooted closer to him, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he pulled you in. He placed another kiss along your temple, rubbing your shoulder.
“Enjoyed your gifts?” You giggled to which he squeezed you, picking up the camera and flipping through the photos. He let you look which you eventually turned away from in embarrassment, “ew wait, delete that.”
He laughed, kissing your lips. “Not a chance,” he sighed and put the camera on the night stand, pulling you flush against his chest. “It was perfect, I love ya darlin’.”
You smiled up at him, rubbing his stubble with your thumb. “I love you too, Daryl.”
He let out a deep breath and wrapped both arms around your small frame, rubbing circles into your lower back. “So… are we goin’ out later today?”
“No way Dixon,” you chuckled. “My legs are weak.” He chuckled, leaning down and kissing your jaw, breathing in your scent.
“Good, I dun’ mind stayin’ in bed all day…” He raised a brow to which you narrowed your eyes. He practically pounced on you, giggles leaving your lips as you both squirmed under the blankets.
Seems you won’t be leaving the bed today.
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f1byjessie · 2 months
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A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.
sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.
( lando norris x photographer!reader )
━━ part two.
Friday evenings are typically spent in the comfort of your flat. Normally, you’re half paying attention to reruns of whatever shitty reality TV happens to be on and half scrolling through social media to keep up with the ever-fluctuating trends of content as per your job requirements, all the while eating your body’s weight in takeaway. It’s not the dream, but it’s certainly a dream.
Tonight, you plan on amending things to include going through the pictures of Bali’s stunning beaches that Lando’s been spamming you with throughout the day, but beyond that, you have no intentions of deviating further from your norm.
You’re actually really looking forward to it. Though you’d rather cut off your own hand than admit it to his face and give him new ammunitions to tease you with, you miss Lando during the winter breaks. So much of your year is spent having him nearby━ a near-constant presence buzzing with the inability to slow down let alone stop━ and when he isn’t around, the silence seems louder. There’s no one else who manages to annoy you the way he does, and it’s just not the same without him.
To make matters worse, between your new job, Lando’s travels, and the scheduling conflicts that have arisen in turn, you haven’t had a chance to catch up with him beyond a few back-and-forth messages about his current escapades. So you really, genuinely, truly are looking forward to it.
Garrett Ward throws a wrench into things.
You have mixed opinions of Garrett. He can be very sweet, and he’s gone out of his way to make you feel incredibly welcome in your first week with the Manchester City team. He makes good conversation and seems genuinely interested in what it is you’re doing, often asking questions about your equipment and process, which is a nice change of pace from most other clients you’ve worked with in the past who rarely give two shits about anything beyond the final product. But his reputation is… concerning.
Garrett Ward is infamous in English tabloids for being a notorious womanizer.
There are several articles that come to mind, but the most damning of which is from 2019, before his trade to Manchester City, detailing with very incriminating photos how he’d been seen entering a club with two women and then leaving just a few hours later with a completely different pair. You don’t want to assume he’s the same man now as he was back then, nearly a full five years ago, but you’ve been working in the sports industry long enough to know that athletes can have anyone and if they want then they will have anyone━ there is no shortage of temptation.
And you are not arrogant enough to assume you would be the outlier.
Which makes his interest in you feel less like friendly curiosity and more like something you need to be wary of.
It’s also why━ as you make the trek through the Etihad Campus car park━ you feel dread begin to pool in your stomach as you answer your ringing phone. “Hi, Garrett.”
“Y/N!” He exclaims excitedly, sounding like he hadn’t just seen you barely ten minutes ago in the weight room. “I meant to catch you before you left, but you were outta there so fast I wasn’t able to.”
And there’s probably a reason for that, you want to say, but you hold your tongue. “Yeah, I usually try to be pretty quick about it.”
There’s an awkward pause left open as if he expects you to say more, and when you don’t he clears his throat. “Erm, well, I was actually just calling to see if, perhaps, you would like to grab dinner with me this evening.”
You don’t. At all. It’s one of the last things you would like to do. There are plenty of other hellish things you would willingly rather subject yourself to before sitting down and sharing a private meal with this man━ jumping into the Thames is one of them, and letting Lando drive you around on the autobahn in his Spider is another. Both could very easily result in death, permanent disfigurement, or any other number of horrible outcomes, but neither includes Garrett.
Your hesitating silence must be an answer enough for him, because he chuckles again and adds on quickly, “No strings attached, I promise. It’ll just be two friends getting dinner.”
All you want to do is get cozy on your couch in your pajamas with a kebab from the place down the street and watch pretty people deal with their pretty people problems on TV. You don’t think that’s too much to ask for, but apparently, some higher power does.
“I suppose that’d be alright then,” you agree tentatively, speeding through the stages of grief as you mourn the initial plans of your Friday evening━ the easy, simple, comfortable plans. “Shoot me a message with the time and place and I’ll meet you there.”
“Awesome!” Garrett cheers. “See you later then.”
The peaceful silence that awaits you after you hang up feels like it’s mocking you. Too bad you can’t flip off silence.
“Look, the truth is, City is looking at trading me at the end of the season if I can’t clean my act up.” Garrett’s voice is quiet as he admits the reality of his future to you, but it breaks the silence of the world around you like a gunshot. “And not just loaning me out━” he adds, a twinge of something akin to anger noting his tone, “━but fully trading me. They’re saying that my image makes things too hard for them and the only way they’ll consider re-signing me is if I can either keep my name out of the tabloids or try to clean myself up.”
In Garrett’s defense, he technically did hold true to his promise of just two friends getting dinner. Things were actually going quite well, too. The restaurant was a little more high profile than you would’ve expected for a casual meal, but that can easily be passed off as the luxurious lifestyle and expensive tastes of a pro athlete who can certainly afford it. Expenses of your meal aside, he’d been good company, asking after the ways of working in Formula One and then finding similarities in his football career that made it easy to chat about the struggles and stressors of professional sports.
But you can recognize that this is where it’s all beginning to go downhill.
He’s announced it completely out of the blue as you’re walking back to the garage where you’ve both parked your cars. On top of that, his pace slows and you’re forced to slow down as well to match it until you both eventually come to a halt in the middle of the pavement.
You feel for him, in all honesty. You understand the difficulties of contract negotiations and how easily they can fall apart. The fragility of Formula One contracts is its own special brand of tricky and you’ve seen many friends move on to other teams in the blink of an eye just as they’ve begun to settle down and make their mark where they are. You can’t say for certainty that you understand the mechanics of football contracts to the same degree, but you can imagine they have their own fragile fine print.
But the chill of a January night in Manchester is brutal, and you’ll be the first to admit that your outfit does not protect against it. You don’t really want to be having this conversation in general, because you’ve known Garrett for all of a week which makes you acquaintances at best, but you especially don’t want to be having it now, out here in the cold when all you want to do━ all you’ve wanted to do since this afternoon━ is curl up in something warm and comfortable and pretend the world outside your flat doesn’t exist for a few days.
“I’m not sure what this has to do with me if I’m being honest, Garrett.”
He shrugs. “I just thought you might be able to help.”
You shove your hands in your pockets in a desperate attempt to keep your fingers from going more numb than they already are and shake your head at him. “I don’t know how exactly you think I can help you with that. I’m a photographer, not a PR officer.”
“My agent thinks it would be a good idea if I showed the media that I could hold down a steady relationship. Prove to them that I’ve changed my ways, and have matured.” He shrugs again, nonchalant despite being the one to bring this up in the first place.
“Have you?”
He makes a face, something between a flirty smirk and a suggestive wink, “Well, I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Garrett.”
“Look,” he crosses his arms and levels you with a look that fills you simultaneously with more rage and annoyance than a single person has ever made you feel before. “It would just be for a couple of months, and then we could stage an amicable breakup and that would be that! It just has to be long enough to show everyone that I’m not the same as I used to be.”
You give him a look right back, hoping it conveys how appalled you are by his audacity. “Okay, but why me of all people? Christ knows you probably have a list of women in your contacts who would jump at the chance to pretend to date you for a few months.”
His face pinches up in disgust. “Yeah, but they’re all former hookups, and I mean, they’re kinda psycho about me to be fair. If I tried to end things, they’d probably go to the tabloids themselves and smear my name with the worst things they could come up with.” He shrugs again, and you’re starting to find that you hate it when he does so. “I need someone willing to just play along for the time being and who will be discreet when things are over.”
“And you think I’m that person?” You scoff. “You’ve known me for a week!”
Your voice echoes and it reminds you once again that you’re having this conversation in the middle of a random street in Manchester. It’s cold and dark, and you’ve been attempting to bite back your frustration since the moment Garrett called you. You’ve been as nice as you possibly can be for this man, shy of bending over backward to worship the very ground he walks on, and you’re so close to your limit that you think if he shrugs one more fucking time━
He shrugs. “Well, yeah, but you know how this industry works. So I know you can be trusted.”
You take a deep breath to try and retain what’s left of your quickly slipping composure, before you say, “Garrett, this goes beyond unprofessional. I could potentially get into a lot of trouble for this. You’re technically my co-worker, if not my client by proxy. It’s not a good look for me to be getting with the athletes I work with, considering my entire career is based on working with athletes.”
He makes a befuddled face as if asking what that has to do with anything. It occurs to you that he’s probably never had to worry about the ethics of hooking up with someone when most of the women who are interested in him would do everything in their power to spend a night by his side whether it’s morally just━ or legal, for that matter━ or not.
“That doesn’t seem to stop you from being all cozy with that Nor-whatever guy,” he grumbles.
“What?”
“That driver,” he repeats. “You post him all over your socials, like, all the time.”
You tear your hands from your pockets and throw them up in the air, “Because that’s my job?!” The stupidity of the man before you is genuinely baffling. He’s been asking about your job all week long but the way he’s talking now makes it seem like he didn’t catch onto the fact that your entire career is centered around media and the creation of content made with the explicit intention of being shared.
“I am quite literally paid to take and post pictures of him per my contract with McLaren,” you continue. “And even if I wasn’t, he’s my best friend?! I’ve been working and traveling and spending the majority of my time with Lando since 2019 so of course I’m going to be close with him. Do you not post your mates every once in a while?”
“Yeah, but it’s different. All my mates are guys, so nobody thinks I’m dating any of them when I do it.”
You scoff in disbelief. “I cannot believe this right now. You know, for a moment, I briefly considered helping you. But you’re actually exactly the type of prick the tabloids say you are.”
He takes an intimidating step closer, and his voice drops an octave lower. “I would reconsider if I was you.” You’re not short, but Garrett isn’t either. He’s one of the tallest players on the Manchester City team, and the way you feel now with him staring you down makes you wonder if this is what it feels like to be his opponent on the pitch.
It’s fucking terrifying.
But you’re fucking livid, too.
Your jaw clenches and you bite out sharply, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“What it means,” he starts, “is that if you don’t help me, maybe I slip a word about something or other to my boss who slips a word to his boss who is, also, your boss, and suddenly, whoops!” He gives you a cocky smirk, so sure of himself that it makes you feel like your blood is literally boiling. “He’s not your boss anymore. In fact, nobody is your boss anymore, because your ‘slip in conduct’ was very inappropriate and made several players uncomfortable, which doesn’t look very good when trying to get jobs elsewhere in the industry.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Well,” he fucking shrugs. “When you say it like that, yeah. I guess I am.”
You cross your arms, your hands clenched into fists so tightly that you can feel your nails digging painfully into the flesh of your palms. “You’re a real bastard, you know.”
“You’re not the first person to tell me that, love.”
If only it were legal to kill a man━ Garrett Ward would be six feet under and picking worms from between his teeth.
You weigh your options, though. You’re not sure how much weight his word actually carries. For all you know, he could tell his boss, they could bring you in to discuss things, and then you could explain it all from your point of view. Garrett is a notorious flirt and you doubt it’s the first time he’s tried to pursue someone who isn’t interested in him. You doubt it happens very often, but it has to have happened at some point. Not to mention, his reputation regarding women is bad enough that Manchester City is already giving him an ultimatum, so you probably have a chance, and the worst-case scenario is that you amicably part ways with the team and that’s that.
But realistically there is a worse worst-case scenario, and it’s pretty damn close to what Garrett is threatening. Losing this side gig wouldn’t really be too much trouble. It would put a dent in your savings, and you’d have to be a bit better about how you ration out your groceries and other necessities around the flat, but losing your job at McLaren? Being blacklisted from the industry entirely? That’s life-destroying. You would lose everything━ all the blood, sweat, and tears you shed to get where you are would be for nothing.
All because of a prick in sky blue.
“Fine,” you utter from between gritted teeth. “I’ll help you. But I won’t post you on my account. I won’t bring you home to my parents. I won’t go round to your flat and I certainly will not have you round to mind. You get one kiss to make it official to the paps, and then nothing more.” You take your own threatening step toward him, and a vindictive part inside you shines with malicious glee when he shifts ever so slightly backward. “If you try anything else, I will run to the papers and drag you through the mud worse than any of your little psycho groupies ever could.”
He scoffs, “You’d ruin your career.”
“But I’d tear you down with me,” you reply.
He takes a moment to think, staring into your eyes and weighing how serious you are. Whatever he sees staring back at him must be convincing enough because he sniffs, nods, and smirks.
“Deal.” He leans down, “I think I’ll be taking that kiss now. Make sure to really sell it, yeah?”
━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre
━━ a/n: i feel like i say this every time, but i am seriously blown away by how well the first part of this was received! like, seriously, thank you so much for the kind words everyone said about it! hopefully this second part lives up to the hype of the first, it's a little denser, but the events are important to establish for the rest of the story so it needed to happen!
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starlightkun · 3 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
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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?
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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.
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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.”
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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!”
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[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.
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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.
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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?
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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.
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“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.
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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.
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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.”
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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?
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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?
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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.
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“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?”
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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?
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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.
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“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!”
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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.”
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“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.”
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.”
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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.”
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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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prismatic-bell · 15 days
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Something happened at work the other day that I feel like Tumblr would enjoy.
So I have a Native coworker we’ll call D. (I actually have several Native coworkers, but D is the subject of this story.) This woman has forgotten more about this industry than I’ll ever have the chance to learn; you know that post that goes around about how in every office there’s one petite motherly lady with a title like “secretary” or “assistant” and she’s the one who actually runs the place? At my job, that’s D.
D often gets a lot of shit because she’s deeply sarcastic and can be biting because she doesn’t suffer fools. But the truth is, that’s just her—learn to accept that her humor is dark and based in irony and you’ll quickly find she’s actually pretty funny and knowledgeable. So in January I submitted her for employee of the month, and she won.
A couple days ago I was walking by the board where they post pictures of honorees for stuff like employee of the month, employee of the year, letters from the CEO, that kind of thing. And I noticed they’d updated it, and there was D’s photo.
First of all, I have never seen this woman BEAM before. I think she was stunned someone looked past the veneer to recognize the skill beneath, and was thrilled to know it. But second of all?
She was wearing a bandanna, which I have never seen her do before, and it was in Native colors. I’m not sure what her tribe is, but people who’ve lived near Southwestern indigenous tribes will know what I mean when I say there’s a certain richness and boldness to Native color and design that isn’t really present in white Southwestern culture, and when you see it enough you start to recognize the patterns and colors as being distinctly indigenous. I’m confident when I say it was of Native design.
I don’t think it was official regalia in the sense of “this is what she’d wear if she was performing a ceremony at a powwow” or “this is something ancestral her great-times-five-grandparents would recognize,” but the colors and what little I could see of the design on it suggested she saw a chance to dress up a bit and represent her people and was happy to have and take it, and it made me happy to know it made her happy. It wasn’t a thing that was on my radar when I submitted her—what I was thinking was “if she ever leaves this company is going to fall apart in like five minutes flat”—but I’m glad it became part of her win.
It made me glad, and I feel like there are people here who’d also be glad of it, so I’m sharing it with you. Be kind today, or at least only call someone a dumbass if they really deserve it. (It’s what D would do.)
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scaredpigeons · 7 months
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“Let me look at you.”
kaveh x fem!reader
Nsfw 18+ MDNI. Smut. Pussy inspection, teasing, light oral (fem receiving) Kaveh’s a bit mean, but not really and we like it. Established relationship, childhood friends to lovers, yes you both live in Alhaitham’s house still cuz I’ll never separate my otp
———————
You hear the rattle of a doorknob, unable to open. 
Then a thud, as if something hit the door. 
“Darling?” Kaveh’s frustration leaked into his voice. “Are you in there? I forgot my keys again.” 
You smiled, and rose from the sofa to open the door. Your sweet Kaveh stood in the doorway, shoulders slumped and white knuckling his mechanical toolbox, looking at you miserably through his brows. 
“Welcome home,” you stepped aside, allowing him to trudge into the entrance. “ I would ask how your day was…” 
“You would not believe the day I’ve had. I don’t even want to repeat some of the atrocities I had to witness today, let alone the absolute crimes against art as a whole— and I had to just sit there and let him drone on and on!— AND regardless of my experience and clear expertise on the subject, this—this monster absolutely refused to budge on— seriously my love, who in their right mind requests five inch thick mullions on stunning lancet arched windows?! The man's wife wanted them to be Sumerian rose stained glass— which I already ordered the exact amount for, at double the usual rate so they could have it installed in time for their daughter's birthday— and suddenly the man wants mullions?!” 
Your romantic relationship with Kaveh might have been fresh, but being friends with him since childhood gave you plenty of experience with these kinds of moods. You knew this spiral would only ruin his evening, and if left to fester it would consume his entire month. 
“Is there anything I can do to help?” You asked timidly, not wanting to send him into another rant, but not wanting your silence to convince him you don’t care. 
Kaveh huffed, and turned towards you. “Unless you can tell this imbecile of a client that—“ He paused, actually looking at you for the first time since he walked into the house. 
Since moving in with him and Alhaitham, you’d certainly made yourself comfortable in the space. 
The house had little pieces of you scattered here and there; a lavender throw pillow on your favorite couch, new mugs in the cupboard, a framed photo of the three of you from your last trip to the desert—smiling and laughing in the sun while camped at an oasis, but nothing showed how comfortable you were there more than how you dressed around the house. 
When the two of you became adults, you rarely ever saw each other outside of the akadeymia and Lambads tavern, so respectable formal wear was what you wore often. When you started coming over and rekindling your bond with Kaveh, you wanted to impress him, to be attractive to him, so you always dressed your best, always done up. But now…
He gazed longingly at your thighs peeking out from beneath one of his oversized shirts, buttons only done up halfway so that the majority of your chest was visible, placed to just cover your nipples in case someone came home during the day. Your hair was pinned back away from your face using a multitude of his own hair pins, and your face glowed as if it was recently washed. 
You were the pinnacle of beauty to Kaveh. So comfortable in his life— like you were meant to be there all along. He sighed, releasing his tight grip on mehrak to let him hover in place just beside him. 
“Actually, yes.” He sighed again, releasing the tension in his shoulders as he gestured for you with his arms. “Come here, let me hold you for a moment.”
You smiled sweetly and curled up into his embrace, humming happily as he rested himself at the junction of your neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply and groaning a little beneath his breath. 
“You’re perfect, you know that?” He said wistfully. 
You giggled, dropping your head to his shoulder to hide your intense blush. “Stop that! I’m supposed to be making you feel better, dummy.”
“Just having you here like this makes me feel a bit better, love.” He pulled back a bit. “Come now, let me look at you, there’s no need to hide.”
Despite your flustered state, you unwrapped yourself from him, cheeks warming even more at the way his eyes raked across your body.
“You like when I look at how beautiful you are, don't you?” He said, holding your hand in his with a gentle squeeze. Though his tone was still gentle, there was something burning beneath his gaze that had warmth pooling into the pit of your stomach. 
He grinned then, suddenly a bit mischievous in nature. “You know what would really help me de-stress, love?” 
If you hadn’t seen where this was headed before, you certainly knew now— though that didn’t make you any less flustered. Even after so many months, physical intimacy with Kaveh still worked you up just as badly as it had the first time. 
“I’ll do anything for you, Kaveh. You know that.” You murmured, cupping your own cheek in embarrassment.
You feel a light pressure around your limbs and waist, and suddenly you are hoisted into the air, hands together above your head and legs spread. 
“Wait—what?!” You tried to struggle, but the grip that he had mehrak put you in was unshakable. You’d seen Kaveh use this function with mehrak countless times; to swing his claymore, to move building materials, but never once had you seen it used on anyone else. “K-Kaveh! What are y-you doing?!”
His head appeared between your legs, though he was still standing, and you could see now why he had hoisted you so high into the air. 
“Just stay still for me, yeah? I want to look at you.” 
“B-but—“
You were silenced by his long, cool fingers pushing his shirt from where it covered you, and your legs spread even wider, exposing you in your entirety to him. He smiled as he hooked his fingers into your panties, sliding them down your thighs and onto the floor at his feet. 
You continued to squirm as your face bloomed with heat, trying to look away but entranced to watch him as he spread you apart, looking at your center with intense eyes. 
He wiggles your labia around a bit, spreading you open and watching as the strands of your slick glisten between them.
He’s torturing you. Eyes never leaving your cunt as he gently thumbs at your clit, watching it twitch and relishing the moans you can’t bite back. 
The teasing makes you ache, it makes pressure form behind your glossy eyes and deep inside you somewhere shameful. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing as he toys with you, poking and rubbing here and there as if to make sure his eyes don’t miss a single part of you. 
He sees you struggling, and a laugh emerges— light and airy from his chest. 
“Please… you’re teasing too much this time, Kaveh.” You manage to whimper. 
“Oh?” He says, eyes still unwavering from your leaking hole. “What is it you want, my love?” 
You keened, so frustrated with his not-enough-touches and the fact that he’s making you say it. You tried wiggling from the hold on you once more, but it only served to satisfy him more. 
“Please!” You begged. “Please make me cum!” Your blush burned. You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed him, to feel him. 
He hummed contently at your cries, finally looking up at you. His gaze burned with a lust so intense you don’t think you’ve seen it since the first time you ever shared your bodies with one another. It was an all consuming flame, and unlike the first time— this one didn’t startle you. 
Kavehs passion was one of his best qualities, and seeing it take on this form, this desire for you— to have you, to make you his— was something you came to crave. 
“Not yet.” He said. Tone leaning towards condescending. “I’m busy looking. You’ll let me keep looking, right?” 
His gaze trailed back down your body to your aching core, where he continued to run his fingers along your folds, eyes heavy with lust at the slick he touched there.
“After all,” he said. “You're so very pretty, and you know how stressed I get. And playing with this pretty pussy of my very own helps sooo much, you know that dont you?”
His words were dripping in sex—in demeaning condescension, and you were about to explode because of it. You squirmed and struggled more, moaning and crying out at the weight of his heavy gaze, and the lightness of his thumb across your clit. It throbbed, sending waves of need up your limbs and making your hips buck against his touch.
“I really enjoy playing with you like this,” He said darkly. Times like these were the only moments Kaveh ever spoke down to you. He was typically very doting, loving, and non confrontational when it came to your relationship. But when you hear his voice sink like this, hear him speak as if he owns you, it sends your brain into overdrive. 
Finally, finally he brings his tongue up your center, taking a nice firm lick from your clenching hole to your aching clit. He seems to add just the tiniest bit more pressure as his tongue rakes over your clit, and you squeal. 
A low, shuddering orgasm overtakes you, and you crumple into it, trying to milk it for all its worth. You’re shocked that he keeps his tongue gently moving over your clit when he realizes what’s happening though he never moves to make it more intense. He works you through it gently, drinking up your cries of pleasure. Your clit throbs dully with each wave of your orgasm, and right before it becomes something closer to painful, he stops. 
His large hands grip your thighs, and he watches as you continue to twitch with the aftershocks. He watches your orgasm subside, and laughs when you start to squirm needingly so soon after. 
“Awe, poor sweet thing. Not enough?” 
Your fucked out expression was nearly enough to break him. Tears streamed down your flushed cheeks, your eyelids drooped and heavy from the aftermath, but still sparkling with lust from the need for more. 
Truly, Kaveh never felt more blessed than when in these moments with you, and he truly couldn’t even remember the specifics of what exactly had made him so unhappy in the first place. 
He was sure he’d remember eventually, and go back to having more work to do, but for now, he’d rather just enjoy the fire you’ve brought from within him. 
“Alright, alright.” He smiled. “I wasn’t done with you yet anyways.” 
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sytoran · 1 year
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𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐎𝐈𝐑 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 || w.maximoff
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boudoir photography: (.n) a photographic style featuring intimate, sensual, romantic, and sometimes erotic images of its subjects.
☰ PAIRING: sub!collegestudent!wanda x dom!amab!professor!reader
☰ REQUEST: I do have a prompt idea, subcollegestudent!wanda x domteacher!reader... where readers assigns an assignment that requires taking pictures that students have to sumbit for there final or something. Wanda submits a photo of her naked... reader gets flustered and holds her back after class and maybe reader tells wanda to meet them somewhere (an apartment or hotel) and then yeah reader fucks the shit out of wanda (sorry), also maybe G!P reader and some kinks like breeding, being tied up etc, whatever youre comfortable with and feel free to add your own touch.
☰ TAGS: smut (18+), college!au, lesbian sex, you're like the hot professor, and wanda is horny af, you can guess how that ends, bondage, breeding kink, professor kink, elements of brat-taming, mentions of reader smoking but i don’t condone smoking irl, shit eats your lungs up but its hot in fiction (to a certain extent), wanda is obsessed with your hands, sadism, degradation kink, humiliation kink
masterlist | AO3
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albeit it might seem arrogant, you were quite aware of the fact that you were attractive.
in your defense, it was incredibly hard not to notice.
enrolling into the prestigious avengers college as a psychology professor with no less than two PhDs, you were quickly classified into the category of ‘the cool and funny one who’s too hot to be a professor’. those words weren’t yours, just for clarification.
the first time you walked into your class, donning a casual suit, laptop tucked under a thick arm of muscle that fabric didn’t conceal, your peripheral vision exposed the dropped jaws of female students and the impressed eyes of the male ones. 
stunned silence at your strangely stark presence quickly turned into sheer admiration when you did your little introduction. whenever you tried to make eye contact with the students to be engaging, you were almost always guaranteed a flirty wink from the ladies. you nearly choked several times.
it didn’t help that your face was a little too good-looking, or that your smirk was a little too sexy. so when you started the lecture, it was plainly obvious that none of them were actually paying attention to the lesson, but more so you. 
word spread fast, and soon it seemed like every student in avengers’ college wanted to sign up for professor l/n’s psychology class.
however, as much as the attention filled your pride, none of your students ever did quite catch your eye like a certain redheaded one.
photo-psychology. 
human relationships, personal identity, interpersonal communication, perception, creativity. they helped to explain how we, as humans, create visual images, how we share them, and how people react to what they see.
though an expert in this field, you don’t think you would ever really be able to put into words the emotions you felt, when you saw wanda maximoff’s submission for her finals.
dear god.
when you said there was a photography assignment that would cost about 40% of the final grade, you presumed it meant well-thought-out imageries of subjects that represented the current state of one’s psychological wellbeing.
not this. certainly not this. nothing could have ever prepared you for this.
wanda maximoff, the redheaded student you held an inexplicable attraction towards, in a set of some of the most erotically compromising positions you had ever seen. 
the first image she had submitted was of herself in a skirt that was far too tiny to leave anything to the imagination, black fishnet stockings tightly hugging sinful thighs, sitting on her knees. 
the second image had wanda in a dark room, the only illumination being the moonlight from outside her window. the minimal lighting fell on her side, bringing light to a generous cleavage. wanda was cleverly and outragingly positioned so that the darkness prevented you from seeing more.
and the third image, god, the third image. it was a sight you would never forget. the redhead was dressed in nothing, sprawled out on her bed, one hand shoved up her pussy, the other probably holding the camera. 
wanda’s face was contorted into an expression of euphoria, on the brink of an orgasm. pretty eyes glassy and her mouth slightly open, of which you swore you could hear her needy moans of release. 
to add insult to injury, the camera was angled just so you could see a hint of wet, pink, folds, but not quite nearly enough to fully capture the entirety of her beauty, leaving you on the edge of precipice to crave more.
you stiffened in your seat, still in the middle of grading of the submissions during class. you swallowed, trying not to let it show. without looking up, you could feel those mischievous viridescent eyes on you.
while it was undeniably wrong, these were the most captivating, alluring, and entrapping images you had ever laid your experienced eyes upon.
“see me after class, ms. maximoff.” you said, as calmly as you could, voice only a touch rougher than usual.
“yes, professor,” wanda said back, ‘professor’ rolling off her tongue in a manner far too seductive to be respectful. you gripped the paper a little harder. 
nearly an hour rolled past with strained silence, unbeknownst to the rest of the class. you waited patiently as the students filed out, watching wanda shove her friends playfully at their playful teasing, before waving goodbye as she walked up to you.
but you decided to leave her hanging, not making any move to speak. wanda was waiting for you to say anything, to do anything. 
by the expression on your face, it looked like you were going to bend her over the table and take her right then and there, but while it was a desire rooted deeply in her heart, wanda knew you would never do that. you were an enigma of your own accord, too gentlemanly to be brash with your actions, but too dangerous to be undermined.
you were smart, obviously, calculated in everything that you did. but beyond that was an effortlessly alluring aura that drew everyone towards you like a moth a flame, wanda being no exception from the rule.
so when those calculated began scanning over her body, not in greedy lust but in the knowing acknowledgment that it was yours, wanda felt the inevitable wetness pool in her panties. the flush blossomed on her cheeks, spreading to her ears and her neck.
your eyes rested on her thighs, the ones that had been clad in stockings in the photo, your imagination running wild but your exterior ever-collected. wanda felt her thighs clench, and you licked your lips for a fraction of a second.
it seemed like an eternity of thick tension spreading across the expanse of the room, just her and you in a little bubble of forbidden desires better left unsaid.
then you absent-mindedly began typing on your laptop, not even half of your attention paid on wanda anymore. the redhead stiffened, wondering how you could’ve been so careless in that very moment.
but she caught sight of the paper that had been slipped to her previously. a slip with a neatly-written address, a time below it.
“it’s for you,” you pointed out offhandedly, finally, not even giving her a second glance.
nevertheless, wanda saw the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at your lips, and she felt the excitement bubble. or maybe it was something less innocent than excitement.
you stayed seated under your desk as she left, eyes burning into the back of wanda’s head, noting her flushed dizziness and the entrancing sway of pretty hips.
it was till she was gone that you let out a deep groan, spreading your legs and leaning back, having hidden a throbbing erection in your pants for nearly an hour.
it was 4 p.m. when wanda arrived at the hotel, her legs bouncing with excitement.
high heels clicked against marble tiling, hands shifting to tug down the incredibly short dress she had chosen. the air-conditioning was cold against bare skin, raising goosebumps.
the hotel you had chosen was expensive, the particular unit tucked away in some ungodly frivolous suite. wanda wasn’t sure how many zeroes you had spent on her.
but beyond all that, she was nervous. even though you were the object of her wet dreams encased in dapper black suits, you were still a professor, after all.
she took a deep breath, checking the unit number for the hundredth time before rapping on the door sharply. 
wanda held her breath, wondering if you would even open the door. maybe it was wrong to trust you so foolishly. to crave and want someone she was forbidden to love.
“come in,” called a voice from inside, raspy with something wanda couldn’t quite pinpoint, but definitely turned on by.
your breath caught in your throat when you laid your eyes on wanda. 
she was dressed in a juniper-green silk dress, one that clung to all the right curves. brilliantly crimson lipstick only magnetized all your attention to soft lips, ripe for the taking.
"hi," wanda murmured softly, stopping right before you. her eyes raked over your less formal figure, manspreading as you sat on the edge of the king-sized bed. 
what captured her attention was a cigarette resting between your lips, being toyed with by two fingers. wanda didn't exactly mind, only further turned on at the sight of a partially unbuttoned blouse.
you hummed in response, extending your arms in a gesture to grasp her hips. wanda flushed at your straightforwardness, swallowing at the sight of long, ring-adorned fingers.
stepping closer to let you pull her into your personal space, wanda sighed in relief, relaxing into your touch.
using a free hand to press chaste kisses on the back of her knuckles, you grunted when wanda gently scraped painted nails on the sharpness of your jawline. 
unspoken words between gentle caresses quickly became rougher gropes of bare skin, your impatience getting the better of you at wanda's eagerness.
"i- i want you, please." wanda whispered, palming at the erection in your pants. 
"are you sure?" you voiced again, almost as if foreshadowing what could ensue. "i can- i can be a bit, well, rough."
wanda shook her head, swallowing when your hands roamed further southward. "i like it rough, professor."
then your hands were cupping her ass, pulling the redhead down onto your lap. gauging her reaction with watchful eyes, you wrapped a hand around her neck to pull her in.
wanda whined at the touch of your hand on her neck, squirming in your lap when you let out a puff of smoke into her mouth. her eyes got hazy as you rested a thumb on her bottom lip, tracing mindlessly.
the taste of the smoke made her dizzy, her breathing clogged for a moment when you began kissing her. gasping needily for oxygen, she tried to pull away.
but you were adamant in getting what you wanted, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, as wanda clawed at your exposed skin with shaky moans.
soon enough, the kiss was all tongue and teeth, clashing with fervency. you tilted your head to let your tongue slide between her soft lips, and wanda let out a moan that reverberated in your ears.
"please," she whined, tugging at the back of your shirt, taut with the expanse of expensively crafted muscles.
"i don't think so, miss maximoff," you responded with a breath of escapism, low decibels making her ears blush. "misbehaving today, hm?"
“i don’t know, maybe you should punish me first.” wanda replied almost instantaneously, haughty but with an air of brattiness that you wanted to fuck out of her.
your eyes narrowed, hands trailing over her pretty thighs, then slapping it roughly, making her jolt with a gasp. “maybe i should.” you murmured hotly, the kisses on her collarbone turning downright possessive.
wanda moaned, hips jerking against your crotch area. you groaned, hastily flipping her over onto your bed. effectively trapping her in, with knees on either side of her lithe figure, you didn’t think you had ever seen a more breathtaking sight.
"you alright with bondage?" you breathily asked, pupils dilating at wanda's hazy eyes of arousal. the fight she had in her earlier seemed to dissipate with each passing second you denied her of pleasure.
wanda nodded eagerly at the suggestion, tilting her head to suck at your fingers, tongue trailing around the cold metal of your rings. 
you bit back a guttaral growl. "let go," you muttered, gaze tearing into her pliant mouth still sucking. wanda seemed to ignore you, only taking two fingers further down her throat, letting out a pretty gag.
"let go," you repeated again, slower, in disbelief at how disobedient wanda could be. but you shouldn't have been surprised, for she had quite literally sent her professor nudes for her finals. 
“...you’re a fuckin’ brat, you know?”
“mhm, you should fuck it outta me.”
sooner than wanda thought physically feasible, you had her wrists bound by handcuffs, pinned to the headboard. the restraints allowed for minimal movement, but not nearly enough to satiate the redhead’s unrelenting need for alleviation.
you let your hands roam over her exposed body, now barren of clothing. she was divine, in every state of matter, with or without.
“you remember the first image?” you quizzed, hovering above wanda’s restrained form. she tried to reach for you, to touch and feel, but the only thing she was greeted with was cold metal of handcuffs.
"what image?" wanda gasps, her whine breaking off into a shrill shriek of pleasure when your lips wrap around her cute, stiff nipple.
"don't play innocent," you reprimanded with a dangerous seriousness. pulling down your pants, wanda ogled at the sight of your huge cock straining against the pants of your boxers. then you pulled that off, too, letting it spring free, and wanda wondered how the hell it was going to ever fit inside her.
but her train of thought was halted by a harsh slap to her thighs. you seemed to like that, watching porcelain turn crimson, watching the shake of the ass in its aftermath.
"you know the first image," you begin, sliding your cock against her wet folds. wanda cries, groping for you, fighting against the cuffs. "the one with the tight stockings, and the little skirt."
your practiced self-restraint left wanda a bumbling mess, cock brushing against her clit in the slightest. it was so frustrating yet satisfying to be bound by the cuffs, denying her of pleasure yet giving her that in abundance.
"you got all dressed up for me?" you hummed with a satisfied grin at her state of duress. "such a whore, mhm?"
"i- i'm not - ah! - m'not a whore- f-fuck," wanda fell apart at your commanding jurisdiction, like she had been subjected to imprisonment within your unrelenting hold.
"but you are," you insisted, letting your cock enter her dripping cunt in the slightest, then pulling out. "so wet, fuck."
wanda let out a disparaged cry, as you smirked. "and the second image." you continued. "you remember that?"
wanda nodded frantically, the cuffs on her wrist leaving red marks in its wake. she knew better than to disobey you now, to let her brattiness be the cause of that loss of euphoric pleasure.
"i remember, professor. i'm s-sorry. please-"
before wanda could even finish her sentence of wailed apologies, you slid your cock into her properly, as wanda let out a moan so pornographic she looked divine.
the redhead undulated her hips frantically against that little bit of friction, chasing her high as you pulled out yet again. "you sure you're sorry?" you questioned. "'cos i don't remember telling you to fuck yourself on me like a little slut."
"fill me up, professor, please," wanda begged.
"oh, i don't think so, miss maximoff," you said dryly, plucking at her nipple so harshly she screamed. "not until you tell me about that third picture. so fuckin' needy, huh? what if i just reported it to school's authorities? then you'd be expelled 'cos you were all too whorish for your professor." 
wanda thrashed under you, fighting against the handcuffs in a futile attempt, as you began sucking on a hardened nipple. "just wanted to take your pups, please. please, i need it." she rambled, gasps and moans escaping her divine lips.
your unrelenting tempo of cruel erotica left wanda a mindless mess of babbles and she was so, so wet. 
you stole away orgasm after orgasm, and wanda cried at each lost, knowing she had brought it upon herself. 
"please, please, please, i need you inside now." she whimpered.
but your patience had soon run thin, and you could never feasibly deny such a breathtaking woman before you, so you finally gave in to her desires.
your grip on her hips so harsh wanda was sure it would bruise the next day. the thought of going back to school and seeing you at your desk with the knowledge that her body was yours made her shiver, but then that thought was thrown out the window when you entered her.
"oh, fuck," you cursed, eyes wide, a breathy rasp in your voice that was ear candy for wanda.
the redhead had taken the entirety of your cock in her hungry pussy on the first thrust, velvet walls hugged around you so wet and hot you never wanted free reign again.
"professor," wanda's pathetic little mewl had your grip on her hips tightening. 
"you're soaked." you groaned out, shifting inside her to make yourself comfortable. the redhead thrashed again at your actions, and you had to shove two fingers in her mouth to shut her up.
the familiar feeling of cold metal against her tongue had wanda relaxing for the slightest, but you took that opportunity to begin fucking her like it was the last thing on earth you would do.
again and again, using her like a little doll, releasing your healthy amounts of seed into her gaping pussy as she begged to be bred.
orgasm after orgasm, as wanda cried your name, as you marked her with sharp teeth and even sharper thrusts.
over and over, until the hotel room reeked of sex, and the both of you were covered in slick and sweat, and until the management security came knocking on your door.
it was 2 a.m. when wanda left the hotel, her legs barely able to move.
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this took way too long lmao also i loved the contrast between “it was 4pm when wanda arrived at the hotel, her legs bouncing with excitement.” and “it was 2am when wanda left the hotel, her legs barely able to move.” it’s a parallel i thought was pretty cool so hopefully yall noticed that detail too :o
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eternalsa2z · 4 months
Text
GGLAM: Krystal
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"Hiiiii Krissy! Welcome to GGLAM!"
Kristie had been going to "GGLAM By Polly" for a few weeks. Normally a high end salon wouldn't be her thing. But after "Paula's Cuts" shut down and was replaced by this Barbie-like boutique, her choices were limited. Of course, it also helped the the bubbly and beautiful Polly 'grandmothered' in all of Paula's old clients, offering the old prices for whatever their old styling used to be.
Of course, Polly was always pushing for this or that. Telling her client that she'd look cute with extensions. How she should totally go blonde. That thick and curvy waves with a full body were sooooo in right now. Kristie would always decline the over-enthusiastic bimbo, who to her credit would always drop the subject and do something simple. Kristie did appreciate that her stylist always listened and obeyed her...or maybe the ditz just forgot she offered a total makeover just a few minutes before.
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"You're hair is soooo soft and shiny and pretty! Do you trust me?"
Honestly, she did. Polly was exciteable but never did anything Kristie didn't want. So whether it was the stylist's adorable eagerness, the endless happy salon music, or an inner curiosity wearing her down, she relented and consented.
With a squeal of excitement, Polly got to work. Blowing. Teasing. Fluffing. It felt like forever and Kristie almost dozed off as the bubbly beautician tried something new and exciting. When the makeover artist's long acrylic nails tapped on her shoulder, Kristie stared at the mirror in a daze.
"You're such a good girl letting me give your hair a makeover! Do you like it?" Polly asked hopefully.
Kristie nodded. It was...pretty. Sexy almost, but not too over the top. She liked it. Somehow, for some reason, she wished Polly had gone further.
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"OMG your face is flawless! You're, like, a literal Barbie!"
Kristie blushed, even if her face didn't show it under all that foundation. Polly's compliments were what convinced her to do more this time. Sure, her hair was kept simple, just washed in a special silicone enriching bath that Polly kept gushing about. But this was the first time Kristie had agreed to pay for the 'Pretty Girl Package'.
The results were stunning. The pink lipstick, the pink top, the little sparkly earrings all made her mind sparkle. She couldn't help but giggle with giddiness alongside her stylist, especially after Polly told her that the package meant she could take all the products home for free.
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"Look at you Krissy! Ur, like, a living advertisement for GGLAM! An adorable doll on display!"
As Kristie posed, she processed the words. Her new blonder and curlier hair. Even her somehow curvier form that fit that new dress juuuuuuust right. For a moment she tried to think about it, whether the change was too much. But Polly played that catchy little jingle from the salon as she snapped some photos and Krissy forgot what she was worried about.
There was nothing to worry about! All she had to do was let Polly make her pretty. Wear the cute clothes. Be a GGLAM model. It was soooo easy and soooo nice to let someone doll her up and dress her so sexy. It's like Polly was always saying - Good Girls Love A Makeover!
"Yesssss Krissy! Look at my little blonde angel! You're shining like a diamond...or like, a Krystal!"
Krissy felt amazing. After weeks of makeovers, special supplements, enriching hair treatments she finally went blonde. 'Bimbo blonde' as Polly called it. They left a bit of Krissy's dark roots as a reminder of her old self...but, like, Krissy could barely remember what she looked like before she started working with Polly.
But Krissy didn't worry. Or think. She just did what she was told. Sat obediently in the chair. Gave a smile for the camera. Did a little twirl on command. Polly knew best. Krissy trusted Polly. Krissy would be GGLAM's good girl model.
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"Krystal you've been, like, an uh-may-zing client! I've sooooo loved helping you become the super pink girly girl bimbo you told me you were on the inside!"
Krystal just posed and pouted prettily. She, like, didn't 'member telling Polly that she wanted to be a bimbo. Or even looking like such a girly girl before. But, like, Polly must've known. She always knew what was best!
Now Krystal looked her best. She was a bit sad Polly said that after her latest pink makeover her 'Good Girl Package' was done. But quickly happiness took over as her cotton candy pink brain saw her candy pink new hair and yummy new body. As pink and pretty on the outside as she was on the outside, with a hawt new bod to match her mind.
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"Hiiiii this is GGLAM by Polly, 'cuz Good Girls Love A Makeover! I'm Krystal...how can I, like, help make you beautiful?"
She stared blankly at the mirror, absent-mindedly brushing her hair and admiring her makeup. Her simple little mind couldn't memorize much beyond that silly short intro line, but luckily Polly had a 'lil repetitive tape that helped drill the greeting into her head. GGLAM's new reception needed to make a good first impression!
After month going to GGLAM, Krystal always made a good first impression. Especially after Polly plumped up her lips even more. It was sooooo worth it quitting her old job. Not only did she, like, get to hang out at the salon allllll day, but Polly gave her comp...complimen...like, free makeovers for working there! It was totes the best deal ever!
She was a total GGLAM girl now. But as she talked the next client...she hoped she wouldn't be the last. Good girls love a makeover...and bimbos need besties...
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thesargasmicgoddess · 5 months
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I've been meaning to ask this question but never have. The quality of your photos is just amazing; not simply in the subject (the beautiful and stunning you) but the image quality, the lighting, and the colours.
My question is what do you use to take these photos? Is it a digital SLR, a phone app in particular you'd recommend, etc. And do you ever use post production to improve contrast, crop the frame, blur backgrounds, etc?
I mainly would like to say that I'm always seriously impressed with what you post here, and thanks!
Aww thank you!
I just use my phone. I find that the cameras on phones are such amazing quality nowadays, it's sufficient for what I need it for. Currently, I have a Galaxy S23 Ultra (sorry iPhone peeps, I'm an android girl 🤣🤷🏻‍♀️) and I just use the camera, no app.
We do have a few digital professional cameras, but my husband just likes to use those for landscape photos 🤣🏔🌄🏞
I have a pretty specific style and I think post-production is GOLD--but I don't mean filters and beautifying effects. I'm a stickler about framing, lighting, background (it makes me crazy to have a cluttered background), sharpness, and saturation. If it's b&w, then I tend to prefer high contrast. Shadow and light are just amazing props.
And the context. The story. The authenticity of the photo. That's all super important to me too.
I think attitude is important. I don't shoot unless I feel inspiration. I actually used to shoot a lot more, but since life has been very busy, I don't force it. I do it when it makes me happy or if an idea really needs to be played out to satisfy my curiosity/creativity.
There's currently a beautifully edited shot that I'm mulling over posting for Halloween. It's full nudity, which I dont post much at all. But I usually will post full nudity when I just think the photo is stunning.....so we shall see 🤔
I sometimes wish I had a camera person because some shoots are just hard to frame and execute by yourself.
Here's an example of one of my favorite sets. The framing, lighting, background...just a favorite all around.
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kckt88 · 28 days
Text
The Beginning
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Summary:
Every Dynasty must start somewhere.
Warning(s): Talk of Violence/Blood, Eye Injury, Betrothals.
Word Count: 1923
A.N - Credit to Aemond Targaryen Team (@aemond_team) • Instagram photos and videos for the picture of Aemond & Dany.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.
“This interminable in fighting must cease” shouted Viserys banging his wooden cane on the floor.
“F-Father” muttered Rhaenyra.
“Your father. Your grandsire. Your King demands it” screamed Viserys.
“Your Grace if-“
“-I will see things at an end” snapped Viserys as he turned towards Otto who bowed his head in faux submission.
“Husband” muttered Alicent sadly.
“When Princess Vaera turns five and ten, she is to come to Kings Landing where she will be wed to my son Prince Aemond” declared Viserys.
After momentary beat of silence, the room erupted into chaos.
“I will not have my son married to that girl”.
“He attacked Baela”.
“They attacked me”.
“He stole Vhagar”.
“Mother don’t let her be married to him”.
“She’s my daughter I should get a say who she marries”.
“SILENCE!” bellowed Viserys.
“You will do as your King commands, the two of them will enter into a period of courtship and then they will be wed. I would see our family united, and I swear there will be consequences if anyone dares to disobey me” ordered Viserys.
“Yes, Your Grace” muttered Rhaenyra.
Vaera looked down at her hands that were still stained with Aemond’s blood, her cotton night dress in tatters after she had ripped away a piece of the fabric to press against his face to try and stop the bleeding.
“He didn’t steal Vhagar” mumbled Vaera.
“What did you say?” asked Rhaenyra her eyes wide with surprise.
“Aemond. He didn’t steal Vhagar”.
“Yes, he did, Vhagar belonged to Rhaena she was our mother’s dragon” snapped Baela.
“Nobody owns the dragons; they are creatures of their own free will, they are not posessions to be passed down, she allowed Aemond to claim her. Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor” replied Vaera. (A dragon is not a slave).
Rhaenyra smiled slightly as she tucked a stray silver curl of hair behind her daughter’s ear.
Alicent stunned to silence turned to face Viserys who smiled.
“It seems as though my granddaughter is the only one blessed with any kind of sense. This matter is finished” ordered Viserys.
Vaera noticed Aemond peering at her from across the room and she gave him a small smile before she turned away.
- Five Years Later -
Everything had changed since that night on Driftmark. Vaera had lost her father Laenor and gained another in her great uncle Daemon, who also turned out to be her biological father.
Not that Vaera wanted to know the details, but her mother had spent her wedding night to Laenor with Daemon. A death had occurred at the feast and Laenor had descended deep into his cups to block his pain over the loss of his beloved Joffrey and Daemon had snuck into her mother’s chambers, did what they wanted or needed to do and nine moons later she had been born. Of course, by this time Daemon had already absconded across the narrow sea and married Laena Velaryon.
Growing up had been a little tough for Vaera, as her mother had been deeply in love with Daemon and his abandonment of her had broken her heart. Every time her mother looked at her, she could see it in her eyes. Rhaenyra tried to be a good mother to her and sometimes she was indeed soft and warm, but other times she was vacant and unfeeling.
So, Vaera spent most of her time with Laenor, even more so after he mother gave birth to Jacaerys and Lucerys, both babes blessed with brown hair and bearing an entirely coincidental resemblance to the commander of the city watch Ser Harwin Strong.
Whispers of bastard followed both of her younger brothers and it eventually caused a rift between them. Sure, she had also been subjected to the reservations of the court, but due to her flowing silver hair and amethyst eyes suspicions of her true parentage eventually fell by the wayside.
Maybe it should have been better when her mother had married Daemon, but it wasn’t. Things remained the same. Vaera always got the sense that her father was disappointed in her, he seemed to be dismissive of her and never cared to spend time with her like he did her sister Baela. Her other sister Rhaena had told her that she had felt the same way and it was most likely down to their lack of a dragon.
It wasn’t her fault that her cradle egg never hatched. Mayhaps that dragon wasn’t truly meant for her.
A theory that turned out to be true, when Vaera had managed to claim the most ferocious dragon alive the Cannibal.
All those who had tried to claim him before had perished, his nest was littered with the bones of all those who had tried and failed. Yet he’d accepted her. She was his first ever rider.
Perhaps he senses her loneliness and the need for a friend as he had felt the same way. But something definitely called to her with her Cannibal and their bond was like no other. They spent every moment they could together, either in the air flying amongst the clouds or on the ground where Cannibal would curl around her as she read countless books to him.
Messages of congratulations arrived from Kings Landing, although some were laced with uncertainty with regards to her claiming of the ferocious Cannibal. Sure, he had a reputation but as long as his hunger was satisfied then he had no desire for the flesh of his own kind.
The years on Dragonstone spent bonding with Cannibal were the best, of course the deteriorating relationship with her parents and siblings wasn’t a great aspect. But Vaera firmly decided that she didn’t care as long as she had her dragon.
Her mother was too preoccupied with the babe she’d recently given birth too. A boy named Aegon, which was ridiculous considering there was already an Aegon. But now her father had his son and that’s all he cared about.
The time was now upon her to travel to Kings Landing so she could begin her courtship with Aemond. She wondered what he’d be like now. They’d not seen each other since the night he’d lost his eye on Driftmark, but they had been friends before that. Vaera was not simple minded she knew what was expected of her with regards to marriage, but she hoped Aemond would be amenable to rebuilding some form of their friendship.
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Due to recently giving birth, her mother could not escort her to Kings Landing and her father wasn’t keen either something about ‘Hightower cunts’ and neither Jace nor Luke volunteered which in Luke’s case was probably a good thing. So, after making sure she had everything packed and bidding farewell to everyone, Vaera climbed on the back of her Cannibal and took to the skies, heading away from Dragonstone towards Kings Landing.
Once Vaera arrived in Kings Landing, she had Cannibal circle the Red Keep a couple of times before he landed with a colossal thud on the stone walls that surrounded the castle. Announcing his arrival with a thunderous roar, Cannibal manoeuvred himself off the wall and lowered himself to the ground. After taking a moment to gather her bags that were attached to Cannibal, Vaera elegantly moved off Cannibals back and descended down the wing that he’d pressed against the ground.
Cannibal lingered by her side for a moment, observing the two guards that had appeared at the entrance to the castle. His low rumbling growls echoing around the courtyard.
“It’s ok my sweet” urged Vaera as she ran her hand along Cannibals scaly neck.
Cannibal who was still hesitant to leave her side, bared his teeth as the guards moved closer.
“I’m fine, they are merely escorts. Go hunt and find a place to rest. I will see you soon” said Vaera as she pressed a quick kiss to Cannibal’s snout.
Cannibal trilled as he nudged her gently, lingering at her side for a few moments longer before he opened his large wings and took off from the ground with a huge gust of wind.
Vaera held her bags close as the guards slowly approached her.
“Princess Vaera. Welcome to Kings Landing. Allow us to escort you to the Queen”.
“Thank you” replied Vaera.
Vaera silently followed the guards as they walked through the Red Keep. Ignoring the curious looks of the maids and servants as she went passed.
Eventually the guards came to a stop in front of a large ornate wooden door.
Knock, knock.
“Enter”.
“Princess Vaera. Your Grace” said one of the guards as he stood aside and allowed Vaera to enter the room.
“Ahh Princess, forgive me. We were not made aware that you would be arriving today”.
“Apologise your grace. My mother must have forgotten to send the raven” replied Vaera.
“It appears so Princess. But never mind you’re here now. Let us discuss your courtship and upcoming marriage to my son” said Alicent.
“Yes, Your Grace” said Vaera bowing her head respectfully.
“Talia, would you take the Princesses bags to her assigned chambers” ordered Alicent.
“Your Grace” replied Talia as she wordlessly took Vaera’s bags and left the room.
“Please take a seat” offered Alicent, gesturing to the empty space next to her.
Vaera slowly sat beside the Queen and took a deep breath, she had not seen Alicent since Driftmark and in truth she was a little nervous.
 “Your courtship period with Aemond will last approximately three moons, after that the two of you will marry in the sept under the faith of the seven” said Alicent sternly.
“Of course, Your Grace” whispered Vaera, fidgeting with her riding leathers.
“You will be expected to do your duty as a wife and only bear my son’s children”.
Vaera of course picked up on Alicent’s thinly veiled dig at her mother, and obviously the Queen was waiting for her response as she stared her pointedly.
“I’m well aware of my duty Your Grace. Despite what you may think. I am not my mother. I fully understand the value of my virtue and I swear that no man has touched me, and no man will ever touch me besides my husband” replied Vaera truthfully.
“Pretty words Princess. Surely you can understand my reluctance to believe such things”.
“Yes, Your Grace I do understand. But as I said I am not my mother, and I can assure you I have no such desire to sully myself or my husband by birthing bastards” said Vaera sharply.
Alicent stared at her for a moment before smiling and nodding her head.
“You will of course be assigned a guard who will accompany you and ensure your safety and wellbeing” said Alicent.
“Yes, Your Grace” whispered Vaera.
“I must also inform you that I expect your to behave whilst you are here and act in a manner befitting a Princess of the realm” retorted Alicent.
“Of course, Your Grace. I will endeavour to act accordingly” said Vaera.
“This is your home now; you may go where you wish” replied Alicent.
Vaera nodded wordlessly.
“Ser Arryk will be your guard, mayhaps you would like to be escorted to your chambers so that you may bathe” said Alicent.
“Yes, Your Grace, I understand the smell of dragon isn’t particularly pleasant” replied Vaera.
“I expect your presence at dinner later today, a formal introduction between you and Aemond will be made. I will send a maid to inform you of the time. Ser Arryk will you escort the Princess to her chambers”.
Ser Arryk lumbered forward and Vaera bowed respectfully to the Queen before following the knight.
As she walked back to her assigned chambers, Vaera couldn't help but wonder what her marriage to Aemond would be like.
Would he love her? or would she be nothing more than his duty?
Only time would tell.
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gremlin-bot · 1 year
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One (1) New Reply
I finally wrote my prompt I sent to @stealingyourbones back in November! well part of it. This is just chapter 1, so this gets a summary @dpxdcshipweek
Edit: forgot to say that I got help with the usernames from the wonderful @tourettesdog and @half-dead-ham! (If I'm wrong it's bc I'm not at home rn to look at my notes)
Ao3 link: Here Master List: Here
Summary: Danny has always had more internet access than a child really should have had. He tended to spend that time on game forums and different websites dedicated to space. Everyone once in a while he'd venture onto one about heroes and villains. That's how he met Tim Drake-Wayne or BatShadow as was his username back then.
Chapter 1: Blorbo Supplier
Danny just wanted to see uncommon pictures of Superman. It really shouldn't have been this hard. He's an alien, there should be a lot of pictures of him. Frustrated with his lack of results he resorts to looking for the pictures through unpopular social media websites that should have new pictures. His first look didn't meet his goal, and before he could even think of trying again he was distracted by a post. It was a picture of a figure swinging between skyscrapers, backlit by neon light all against a smog filled sky. It was stunning and made all the more captivating by the identity of the subject in the photo. A picture of Batman, The Batman, taken in a way that you couldn't deny it was him. That was impressive on its own, but the quality is what made it shine. Danny had to see if the account had more pictures of Batman, or even other heroes. Looking at the blog, hoping it wasn't a deactivated user, he finds the posts of BatShadow. 
The blog is a gold mine of pictures of Batman and Robin with some villains the duo we're fighting. All with stunning quality, with each subject undeniable as who they were but still giving a sense of privacy. Sadly, Danny couldn't find any other heroes pictured, but Danny could live with that. Batman was his third favorite hero, he blames Sam and all her knowledge on the edgy and obscure. She would be ecstatic about these photos, too bad he wasn't going to tell her. He was being petty. Sam should have known better than to say he couldn't keep a secret, so this is his secret now! Pettiness aside, Danny was going to message BatShadow to see if they had pictures of other heroes they hadn't posted.
Messages begins with BatShadow
(04-17-20xx)
ConstellationCruiser:
Hey, sorry to bother ya
I just saw your posts and was wondering if you have any pics of superman
BatShadow:
I don't know. I would have to look. I don't usually go to an area with him in it much, so no promises.
ConstellationCruiser: 
Thanks!! And that's fine really, it's just that your pics are amazing
BatShadow:
Thanks! Sorry, I have nothing for Supes.
ConstellationCruiser:
Damn
It's fine 
I wasn't really expecting much
I'm just surprised at the quality and quantity ya got there
BatShadow: 
It's super hard to get them without being caught but so worth it!
Danny continued talking to BatShadow about pictures and superheroes. Eventually switching to personal interest. Danny learns that BatShadow skateboards and in turn he tells them all about the stars. By the end of their conversation it was well into the night, Jazz wasn't going to be pleased. It was worth it though.
—-----
Danny ended up messaging again the next day, and the day after that. The other user was interesting and he was just so broad. Especially during these long summer days where Sam was off at some gala trip and Tucker was on vacation with his family. His parents being busy in the Lab at all hours and Jazz working a summer job didn't help. Even with Jazz trying to get him out of the house but it never really was worth it. Not with Dash and his gaggle out. Not without his friends there.
It's not like anyone besides Jazz would care about what he was doing online. Their parents were too caught up in drawing out plans and blueprints for a ghost portal or something. He doesn't care, it's more of the same for him. Don't get him wrong, he loved his parents and they loved him. They just pay more attention to their inventions, and this one happens to be one Danny can't help out with.
He's getting distracted. Danny was supposed to be cleaning the lab, not thinking of long gone days. It was taking way longer than he thought it would. His parents really aren't as careful with their samples as they really should be. After cleaning spilled ectoplasm from the vent grates he will finally be done, then he can get on the computer and add BatShadow on Steam. They were going to play Portal 2 together later.
—----
Tim didn't think he would still be talking to ConstellationCruiser. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, (if there was anyone to talk to in the first place), but he was lonely. So, sue him if he got attached to the other kid with too much free time on their hands. They may not have told each other their ages but it wasn't hard to figure out, they talked too similar.
It was nice to really connect with someone his age. ConstellationCruiser was smart like him, just in different areas. He had learned more about the stars and space travel in the last handful of months than he ever had in his 12 years of life. He knows he wasn't any better, going on about hacking and maybe the new murder mystery that came out. It was fun, learning about the other's interests and different things than what's normal for them. 
ConstellationCruiser's parents seem to have some type of lab in the basement of their house, which was cool in concept but concerning in practice. There have been times where they had to stop in the middle of a game they were playing together to check on an explosion they heard. It happened more than Tim was comfortable with but there's nothing he can really do about it. It's not like he was anyone better about certain aspects of his life either. He avoided the topic of food as much as possible, though it seems ConstellationCruiser is doing the same thing with the topic.
Tim just hopes the other won't worry over him not responding the next couple of days. He probably should warn them but this is time sensitive. Batman needs a Robin. The man is running himself into the ground. His new found grief choking him and by extension Gotham. He has to convince Nightwing to come back, no matter what it takes.
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percervall · 1 year
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it all fades to nothing (when I look at him)
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Pairing: Toto Wolff x fem!reader Words: 2787 Warnings: mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of emotional abuse, slut shaming, Google translated German A/N: @kostasstsimikass and I started talking about Toto being your +1 to a wedding, and it got a little out of hand
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When the wedding invitation came in, your first instinct was to say no. There was no way you were about to subject yourself to a public humiliation willingly. However, the longer you thought about it, the more guilt churned in your stomach. It wasn’t just anyone- not some vague acquaintance or a cousin thrice removed. It was the person you had come to see as a brother. His parents, your aunt and uncle, had been there for you and had taken you into their home when it all had gone to hell. So, suffice to say you couldn’t not go, and a phone call with your cousin made it even more clear that both him and his bride-to-be wanted you there. 
Your boyfriend had smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist as he read the invitation over your shoulder. The man loved a wedding –loved any excuse to get dressed to the nines and, in turn, spoil you with a pretty new dress or a piece of jewellery. It’s up to you, liebling, he’d said, but I know you will never forgive yourself for not going. You hated how well he knew you. You hadn’t been together long in the grand scheme of things, although it felt like you had known him all your life.
“Does this mean I get to spoil you?” Toto asked after you had filled out the rsvp.
“Knowing who will probably be in attendance, I don’t know whether to give you full rein or tell you no,” you replied, doubt tightening itself into a knot that sat heavy in your stomach. 
“You know how little I care about their opinions when it comes to you, liebling. If anything, it makes me want to spoil you more.” 
You did know how little he thought of them, disgusted by the way they had treated you –they being your parents, who had practically thrown you out of their house when you switched mayors your first year in University and pursued a career in law rather than medicine like your father had wanted you to so you could eventually take over the family practice. And a small part of you, a petty part, wanted nothing more than to show up dripping in Toto’s adoration as you showed off your combined wealth. Yet the majority of you was too scared to be branded the common whore again, the way they had when you were in your teens. Rationally speaking you knew it shouldn’t matter what they thought of you, after all they had made it abundantly clear they did not love you, but even after all these years that inner child still craved their approval. 
“I’ll think about it,” you eventually agreed. 
After a long phone call with your aunt, and later with your grandmother, you met him halfway: you’d pay for the dress and shoes, but Toto could buy you whatever jewellery he wanted. The grin he had given you when you set the terms of the agreement was truly a tribute to his last name and made you a tiny bit nervous that he would buy you a necklace with 50 separate sapphires or something ostentatious like that. Then again, Toto had impeccable taste so why should you be worried? The only clue you gave him was a photo of the colour of your dress –a stunning burgundy that reminded you of the blood oranges you would eat every time the two of you were in Italy. On his part, Toto gave you no clues as to what he had bought you until it was the day of the wedding. Your cousin was getting married in Tuscany and had offered the both of you a room in the villa they had rented for the wedding party. You were about to get ready after having breakfast on the little balcony of your room when Toto stopped you.
“I have something for you, liebling,” he said, pulling you onto his lap as he produced two jewellery boxes. 
“Toto…” you said, not finishing your sentence. You felt him smile against your skin as he kissed your cheek. 
“Open it,” he murmured. Opening the largest box first, you gasped quietly when you saw the dainty gold chain with two baguette cut diamonds –one along the length of the chain and the other vertically in the centre. You had a feeling that the stones would sit on the two places along your clavicle Toto loved to shower you with kisses and love bites. His habit of marking you had almost gotten the both of you in trouble on numerous occasions before you went public with your relationship, and even after it was often met with the unmistakable giggle of Lewis and a knowing look from Valtteri.
They glittered beautifully in the sun as you let the chain run through your fingers, your head filled with memories of the two of you in various hotel beds across the world. You just knew it would compliment your dress beautifully. 
“You spoil me,” you muttered, running a finger along the length of the chain. 
“Mm, good,” Toto replied, sliding the second box in front of you. You threw him a glare that you only half meant, and opened the box. Inside was a gold ring with three diamonds in the same cut as the necklace. The stones were held in place by two gold bands, making it appear as if the stones were floating. It was undeniably stunning and the set had probably cost him a pretty penny. 
Toto took the ring out of the box and slid it onto the middle finger of your left hand –a secret fuck you to your parents.
“Eines Tages wird das ein Ehering sein, meine Liebe,” he murmured in your ear as you both admired the way the stones caught the mid-morning light. Although your German had vastly improved ever since joining the Mercedes’ legal team back in 2021, it wasn’t enough to fully understand the words that sat heavy in your heart; even if you didn’t understand him word for word, the sentiment wasn’t lost on you. It felt like a promise, almost an oath. A year ago it would have terrified you, sent you running for the hills, but right now it filled you with so much love that you thought you could burst. You studied his face while he sipped the last of his espresso, admiring the lines framing his eyes and smile, hair still messy from where you’d tugged on it last night when it hit you square in the chest: you’d give up everything if it meant having him forever. 
Untangling yourself from him and the emotions that formed a lump in your throat, you excused yourself to get ready. Toto kissed the top of your head when he passed behind you ten minutes later to get in the shower as you sat down at the vanity to do your makeup and style your hair, deciding it would be easier to pull it back in a low bun. You slipped on the dress, running your hands over the silk material as you admired the way it hugged your curves in the mirror. Toto stopped buttoning his shirt to admire you. He came to stand behind you, peppering kisses down your neck and shoulder.
“You look absolutely breathtaking, schatz,” he said, leaving a final kiss behind your ear. You felt your cheeks heat up at his praise as you turned to look at him.
“Help me with the necklace, please?” 
Toto happily obliged, his large hands deftly clasping the chain, kissing the top of your spine. The tiny gesture sent a shiver down you as his hands came to rest on your hips. You looked at him in your shared reflection in the mirror. 
“Toto..” you warned him, but your voice was devoid of any real threat. He smirked a wolfish grin that had become his trademark over the years, but moved away from you. The look he gave you as he finished getting ready left no room for misunderstandings: at the end of the evening you were his to do with as he pleased. 
+
The ceremony had been beautiful, the display of such unfiltered love and adoration between two people had left you feeling emotionally raw. There had been several moments throughout the years where you had felt unworthy of such love. It had taken you nearly a decade of therapy and experiencing unconditional love to realise your views on reality had been skewed because of the way your parents had treated you. Toto handing you a flute of champagne pulled you from your thoughts.
“Are you okay, schatzi?” he asked, his eyes glued to yours. He knew exactly what had happened with your parents. During those long nights dealing with the FIA back in 2021, you had spent a lot of time together going over what had happened in Bahrain and combing through the rule book. Toto was a great observer, and while at the time you detested it, he had figured you out in an instant. He had been the first man who allowed you to open up while being there every step of the way. It had been so hard to be vulnerable, the damage done throughout the years making it near impossible. 
“Yes. No. I will be,” you replied, pulling him down for a brief kiss, not trusting yourself to say the words bubbling up in your throat –that you couldn’t stop thinking about tying you to him for forever. This was not the place nor the time to do so, this was supposed to be a moment to celebrate your cousin and his wife. 
Toto smiled at you, eyes soft and full of his love for you, and kissed you back as he murmured an ich liebe dich against your lips. You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched him get pulled away by your cousins a moment later to discuss either a business opportunity of some sorts or golf, although that quickly faltered when your eyes met your mothers’. 
“Here we go,” you muttered, downing your champagne in the hopes it would provide the courage and patience you would need in order to deal with her and your father. 
“Mother,” you gave as a greeting when she approached you. Anxiety gripped your insides, but you steeled yourself, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing she still held a shred of power over you. 
“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal daughter,” she all but sneered. Her face was a tight mask of pleasantries but her voice betrayed her disgust.
“Oh no, see, that's where you’re mistaken. In order for me to be the prodigal daughter I would have had to come back home with my tail between my legs; show remorse for my transgressions. And if there’s anything I’m not, it’s remorseful for prioritising my own happiness over yours.” 
You could see your rebuttal took the wind out of her sails. She had anticipated you crumbling under her thinly veiled attack on your character, and had this encounter taken place three years ago or maybe even a year ago, you would have. 
“Your sharp tongue was always the thing that got you in trouble. No wonder you’re alone wearing cheap clothes and fake diamonds. There’s no man who would want a woman like you,” your father commented. It was a loaded comment, not only meant to degrade your intellect but also a way of framing you the way he had done when you were a teenager: a woman owning her sensuality and her sexuality could never be anything other than a slut in his eyes. 
There was no denying that his words hurt; he always knew just where to hit to knock you down. You could feel the anger simmering in your veins, trying your hardest to keep your cool and not give them the satisfaction of knowing they could still affect you. The scent of Toto’s cologne, the brush of cotton against your exposed back and the warmth of his hand on your hip as he came standing behind you was enough to ground you. Even if he was behind you, his presence felt like a shield against their vitriol. Of course his height helped in that sense; even in your heels, you just about reached his shoulder. 
“Everything alright, liebling?” Toto asked quietly, giving your hip a squeeze. You rested your hand on top of his, giving a squeeze in return as an answer and straightened up, rolling your shoulders back. You saw recognition flicker across their faces when it dawned on them who he was and what he was to you.
“My sharp tongue landed me my dream job as in-house counsel at Mercedes AMG Petronas F1, it got me a boyfriend who looks at me as if I am made to be worshipped. I don’t think he’d take kindly to the accusation that he buys me fake diamonds,” you said, your voice even and ice cold. It was the voice you usually reserved for dealing with stupid men in legal battles. Toto chuckled behind you, breaking the tension in your body. You were sure your parents were about to protest, make up excuses as to why you didn’t deserve any of the accolades behind your name, how dating a man twenty years your senior was more evidence for this. You didn’t want to hear it, no longer cared for what they thought of you. You had never been good enough for them, there was always something that displeased them; if it weren’t your grades, it was the way you dressed, how you flirted with a waiter, that you ate too much or too little. Something clicked inside your brain, a final piece of the puzzle that you had been looking for all those years: You were done trying to appease them, realising you never would get their approval –realising you didn’t want their approval, not anymore. The only person whose opinion mattered loved you unconditionally despite all your flaws and frayed edges, he could read you like an open book and knew just what you needed without you having to say the words out loud. 
“If you’ll excuse us,” you interrupted your father’s spluttering, turning around to face Toto who just smirked at you, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Both his hands rested on your lower back now as he leant down to kiss you. It was both so tender and so filthy and full of promise for later that it left you light-headed. 
“Wanna get out of here, schatzi?” he murmured. You nodded and let him lead you outside, leaving your parents seething behind you. 
Outside, you took deep, gulping breaths, tears burning behind closed eyes. They weren’t tears of sadness or grief, but you felt… Relief. Even though it hurt to have to hear those words, you were relieved you could finally stand up to them. You could feel the last rays of sunlight on your face as the sun slipped lower behind the rolling hills of the Tuscan landscape, painting the sky with hues of lavender and peachy pinks. It mirrored the way Toto’s words and actions warmed your soul.
“You did so good, am so proud of you my love,” Toto said softly, hugging your back to his front as he shielded you from prying eyes inside the ballroom. He kept whispering his praise and love for you, the words washing over you like a balm for your still healing heart. 
“I love you so much, liebling,” he said, brushing a finger against your cheek as you turned to look at him. His expression was so open, so full of adoration, it squeezed your heart seeing him this way and cemented the feeling that he was the one you wanted to spend forever with. 
“I know it’s unbecoming to discuss this at someone else’s wedding, and maybe this is all the emotions of today speaking,” you started after a moment of silence, “but I can’t imagine life without you. If-.. If you were to ask, I’d say yes,” you all but whispered. Toto didn’t reply to your admission, not with words at least. He tilted your face up, brushing his lips against yours as he whispered i love yous in between kisses. That was all the reassurance you needed that he felt the same way about you. A tiny voice in the back of your mind whispered that it probably wouldn’t be long before he’d give you a new piece of jewellery to symbolise just how much, to serve as a permanent reminder of his love for you, to make you his and him yours. 
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This fic was meant to be a Toto supporting his girlfriend as she deals with her shitty parents, but it somehow ended up being strangely cathartic? (this is still a work of fiction, don't worry about me) It got a little out of hand and I am not entirely sure of the flow of this fic, but I also know I need to set it free because I could nitpick this thing apart for all of eternity. Please let me know what you think, your comments truly feed the fanfic goblins in my brain For anyone else who recognises themselves in this fic, I am sorry you had to deal with that, know that you are loved and worthy and good enough 😘
click here for more of my work
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pinchofhoney · 1 year
Note
Hiii! Can you do "god, sometimes it's so hard to... to not kiss you, you know?" with Pedro Pascal? Thank you! 🥰 Congratulations on reaching this milestone!
don't stand so close to me # 200 follower special event
» prompt event » special events masterlist
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gif is not mine, credit to the owner
pedro pascal x fem!reader
word count: 1.2k
warning: it's a fluff but might be slightly suggestive
summary: There's always been an air of excitement surrounding secret relationships.
a/n: hi hello, and thank you!!<33 thank you for joining the event! this piece of writing wasn't supposed to go in the direction it went, but i'm not complaining, y'know. let me tell you, i was giggling while writing the last scenes
pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for
taglist: @wolfmoonmusic @alexxavicry @babypeapoddd @domaniquessidehoe @one-sweet-gubler
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The night sky was a canvas of twinkling stars, each one shining as bright as the next. Hollywood was bustling with life and excitement, as the highly anticipated Academy Awards was underway. You never imagined being part of such a grand event, as you often preferred the comfort of your own home while watching it on TV. Tonight, however, was going to be different, because your boyfriend was going to be one of the presenters and he wanted you to be by his side.
As you stepped out onto the red carpet, the energy was electrifying. The atmosphere was abuzz with people, cameras flashing, and voices echoing through the air. All eyes were on the biggest names in the entertainment industry, and tonight, Pedro was one of them. As he emerged from the car, he was immediately surrounded by a swarm of reporters and fans, all vying for his attention. But Pedro remained cool and collected, flashing his infectious grin.
Pedro was one of the most popular actors at the moment, known for his quick wit and charm. He was dressed to impress, donning a sleek black Gucci suit and stylish hand jewelry that complemented his rugged good looks. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and admiration as you stood by his side, watching him navigate the sea of people with ease. Tonight was a night to remember, and you were grateful to be a part of it all with Pedro.
But as much as he loved the spotlight, there was only one person he had on his mind as he walked down the red carpet – you. Your relationship had been a secret for almost a year, and Pedro was determined to keep it that way. He knew that being in the public eye came with intense scrutiny and didn't want to subject you to the same level of lack of daily privacy as he did.
As you walked down the red carpet together, Pedro couldn't help but steal glances at you. You looked absolutely stunning in a black gown that hugged your curves in all the right places. Your hair was styled in natural waves, cascading gently over your shoulders. Pedro felt a tug of pride and admiration as he looked at you, knowing that you were the one person who truly mattered to him.
The cameras clicked away as you posed for photos together, Pedro wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close. He wanted to show the world that you were the most important person in his life, even if they didn't know the extent of your relationship.
As you approached the end of the red carpet, Pedro leaned in close to you, his breath hot on your ear. “God, sometimes it's so hard to... to not kiss you, you know?” he whispered. Your eyes widened in surprise, and you couldn't help but blush bright red. You knew that you had to be careful not to reveal your relationship in front of the cameras. If it had happened at the Oscars, everyone would have been talking about it, especially since Pedro was now a hot topic. But he just grinned and took your hand, leading you out of the public's view and into the theater.
As you got comfortable in your seats, Pedro found himself unable to resist stealing quick glimpses at you. He reached over to take your hand, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of your hand. You knew that he was nervous about his presentation, but he seemed to find comfort in the fact that you were there by his side.
As the show went on, Pedro lost himself in the excitement and energy of the night. He cheered on his friends and colleagues, clapping and laughing and joking around. But as the night wore on, he found himself growing increasingly distracted. He couldn't stop thinking about you, about how stunning you looked in that tight-fitting dress, he much he loved you and how badly he wanted to be alone with you, away from the flashing cameras and the adoring fans.
Finally, as the show drew to a close and the winners were announced, Pedro's desire to return home was getting closer to coming true. It had been a long night with a lot of people surrounding him from all sides, and even his puppy personality needed a break. But all that mattered all the time was that he was there with you, the woman he loved more than anything in the world.
As you left the theater and made your way back to the car, Pedro kept his arm around you, looking at you with a mix of love and playful frustration. “I know we have to keep our relationship a secret,” he said quietly. “But I don't want to hide anymore. I want to shout it from the rooftops. You can't even imagine how hard it is for me to keep my hands to myself.”
You chuckled, knowing exactly what he meant. Pedro had always been a bit of a flirt, and you loved teasing him about it. “A little self-discipline hasn't hurt anyone yet.”
Pedro grinned, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Oh, I have plenty of self-discipline,” he said, leaning in closer to your ear. “I just choose not to use it when it comes to you.” You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach at his words. There was something about the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world who mattered to him, that made you feel so loved and cherished. The chemistry between you two was undeniable, and keeping it a secret only added to the excitement. But you knew the risks of revealing your relationship – the paparazzi would be all over you, and you didn't want to be the center of attention like that.
As you climbed into the car, Pedro couldn't resist stealing a quick kiss before settling into his seat. You both knew the drive home would be quiet as the exhaustion of the night was finally setting in. You leaned back in your seat, letting out a contented sigh. The warmth of Pedro's hand on your thigh, as he drive, was all you needed to feel safe and loved. As the car drove through the city, you looked out the window, watching the lights flash by. You couldn't help but think about how lucky you were to have found someone like Pedro. He was charming, talented, and kind, but above all, he loved you for who you were.
Pedro's voice interrupted your thoughts. “You know, I have something else planned for us tonight,” he said, a mischievous grin on his face. “But I can't tell you what it is yet. It's a surprise.”
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A surprise? You know I don't like surprises, Pedro.”
He chuckled. “Oh, I know. But trust me, you'll like this one.”
As the car pulled up in front of Pedro's apartment building, he leaned over and kissed you again. “Come on,” he said, opening the door. “Let's go see what I have in store for us.”
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brian-in-finance · 1 month
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Cait #17. Personally, I think that outfit and look should score higher as well as a few others which are way better than the first 10. Still, she made the list which is good to see.
93 Of The Best Oscars Dresses Of All Time
https://www.elle.com/uk/fashion/celebrity-style/g26388237/best-oscar-dresses-ever/
Thanks for the message, Anon. 😃 I loved her 2020 ensemble… whilst never losing sight of fashion sense’s subjectivity (a sentiment that really hits home this London Fashion Week 😖).
Here’s Number 17:
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Designer: Valentino / Year: 2020
Numbers 1 through 5 are under Elle’s text. Numbers 6 through 16, and 18 through 93, live in the link.
93 Of The Best Oscars Dresses Of All Time
From Barbra Streisand's exquisite Arnold Scassi pantsuit to Halle Berry in Elie Saab, we've collected the best Oscars dresses of all time.
For many, the Oscars awards ceremony is hotly anticipated for its choice of winners. Cinephiles discuss intently if Brendan Fraser's comeback role in The Whale will nab him Best Actor In A Leading Role, or if Paul Mescal will pip him to the post. Others tune in for the meme-making cultural moments, be it a slap heard around the world, or a calamitous misreading of 'Moonlight' as 'La La Land' (it could happen to anyone, right?).
But for us, and we suspect you too, it's the sport of red carpet dressing that keeps us coming back for more. Having the ability to promote (or demote) a near-unknown to a leading lady in the blink of a ballgown, the power of a stellar styled look cannot be understated. Be it Audrey Hepburn in Givenchy in 1954, Michelle Williams in Vera Wang in 2006, or Lupita Nyong'o in Prada there have been some truly marvellous -dare we say history-making - gowns worn by the best actors in the world on the night of the Academy Awards.
So devoted are we to the best dressed stars of the red carpet, ahead of the 96th Academy Awards (taking place on March 10 2024) we've gone through each and every one of them to find the 93 best Oscar dresses ever worn. You're welcome!
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Designers: Jason Wu and Messika / Year: 2023
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Designer: Alaïa / Year: 2023
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Designer: Moschino / Year: 2023
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Designer: Rodarte / Year: 2023
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Designer: Jean Paul Gaultier Couture / Year: 2022
Elle
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Photo: FarFarAwaySite
Remember… Irish actress Caitriona Balfe looked stunning — as per usual — on the red carpet at the 2020 Oscars in Valentino Haute Couture! The 40-year-old newlywed wore a unique outfit that involved a dress and a blouse when she walked the carpet at her first Academy Awards. She stunned in the black, fishtail-style gown which fell straight down her body in an extremely flattering style. But the strapless dress wasn’t the star of the show: it was the sheer pink blouse she wore over the top! The high-neck blouse was made of a very light material, and fell down to her hips. It also featured a gorgeous, oversized bow which she wore to the left of her neck. Stunning! The model-turned-actress accessorized with silver stud earrings and a matching silver ring and bracelet. Caitriona slicked her beautiful brunette tresses back into a tight bun near the nape of her neck, and polished her look with a bold red lipstick, and red nail polish. What a star! — Hollywood Life
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