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theetherealbloom · 7 months ago

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CLOSE TO YOU

Summary: A commute crush turned meet cute with Pedro Pascal

Paring: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Warnings: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, Commute Crush, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Meet-Cute, Swearing, Anxiety, Surrounded by A-Listers, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Alcohol, Club/Bar Setting

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Happy Close To You release day! I’ve waited for this song since 2018 LMAO. Usually, I don’t write about real-life people, but I really can’t help it since this song is SO Pedro Pascal-coded. Just know that this is fictional and if this isn’t for you, you don’t have to read it! Keep scrolling :> And for those who stay to read this delusion of a fic, hey girlieeee I see you <3

P.S. I’ll be doing a bunch of fics related to Gracie’s new album that comes out next week!

Song: Close To You by Gracie Abrams

| Main Masterlist |

It all began as a harmless crush on your morning commute. The New York subway was your daily stage, a bustling backdrop as you headed to meet a client. As a social media coordinator, your days revolved around managing high-profile partnerships, coordinating with celebrities and Instagram influencers to craft campaigns that seamlessly blended their brands with consumer appeal.

But today was different. And of course, you recognized him.

You noticed him immediately – Pedro Pascal, seated right in front of you. Lost in his book, with a iced quad espresso in a venti cup with extra ice and six shots cradled in his hand, he exuded an effortless charm. His dark, curly hair framed those whisky eyes that glanced up and met yours. Just for a second, you were frozen in time, captivated by his gaze. You quickly looked away, not wanting to seem rude, yet feeling the familiar flutter of a crush brewing.

Did he smile? You swore he did, and your heart skipped a beat. The train doors opened, announcing your stop. Reluctantly, you stepped off, joining the throng of commuters spilling onto the platform. As you ascended the steps, the city's vibrant energy washed over you, but your mind was elsewhere.

Walking towards the restaurant for your client meeting, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. The way his presence ignited a spark within you, a longing that seemed almost irrational. Here you were, burning for a man who didn't even know your name. And yet, in the anonymity of the subway, a fleeting connection had stirred something deep inside you.

It had been a few weeks since that subway encounter, the memory of Pedro Pascal’s whisky eyes lingering in your mind. In the meantime, you had started managing social media for Sarah Paulson, whose busy schedule had her juggling multiple projects and interviews.

Sarah's latest project, a Broadway play titled Appropriate, was garnering critical acclaim and several award nominations. Your job was to promote her involvement, ensuring every post captured the essence of her talent and the play’s success. Though you hadn't been working with her long, you were pleasantly surprised when she invited you to watch one of her performances.

That night, you arrived early at the Belasco Theatre, adorned in your favorite long dress and practical flats, mindful of the commute back to your apartment. Ushered to a seat close to the front, you settled into the plush red velvet, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation. As the audience trickled in, you busied yourself with casual texts to friends before putting your phone away, taking in the theatre's intricate architecture and the stage's grandeur.

Moments later, an usher guided someone to the seat next to you. Curiosity made you glance to your right, and there he was—Pedro Pascal, settling in beside you. Your eyes widened in recognition before you quickly looked away, a quiet panic bubbling in your stomach and tightening your chest. You fidgeted with your fingers, a nervous habit, trying to quell the flurry of emotions and resist the urge to stare.

As the house lights dimmed and the show began, you couldn’t help but steal occasional glances at him. The man who had unknowingly captured your heart was now mere inches away. The performance on stage was captivating, but you found yourself equally entranced by the man sitting next to you. In the soft glow of the theatre lights, you wondered if he remembered that brief moment on the subway, and if fate had just given you a second chance to connect.

When the show ended and the cast took their bows, the theatre erupted in applause. Pedro, sitting right next to you, cheered loudly when Sarah stood with the rest of the cast on stage. His genuine enthusiasm for his friend made you smile, and as you glanced at him, he looked down at you with a radiant grin.

Your heart raced, and for a moment, you felt a concrete connection that was almost tangible. Both of you opened your mouths to speak, but just then, an usher cleared their throat, drawing your attention.

“Mr. Pascal, Sarah Paulson is asking for you backstage… if you would follow me, please,” the usher said, causing Pedro to hesitate, torn between staying with you and fulfilling his friend's request.

“Uh,” Pedro began, glancing between you and the usher. Seeing his dilemma, you made the decision for him. Gathering your things, you offered a polite smile to both Pedro and the starstruck usher.

As Pedro glanced back at the usher, you seized the moment to make your getaway. You might have heard him call out, "Wait!" but you didn't stop. Stepping out onto the bustling street, the city lights of Broadway twinkled around you, a stark contrast to the growing ache in your heart.

The possibility of what might have been gnawed at you, the fleeting connection slipping through your fingers. A voice in the back of your mind echoed doubts, whispering that you didn't quite belong in this world of beautiful, glamorous people. You tried to shake off the feeling, but the bittersweet sting lingered.

You begin to walk away from the theatre, weaving through the crowd lined up for autographs by the backstage door. Just as you're about to cross the street to catch your subway, your phone vibrates in your clutch. Stepping aside, you see Sarah Paulson’s name flashing on the screen.

Shit.

You quickly answer, praying your voice doesn't betray your nerves. "Hello?"

"Hey!" Sarah's voice is warm and enthusiastic. "How are you? Did you enjoy the show?"

"Yeah, I did! You were absolutely incredible," you say, offering genuine praise and shifting your weight to your other leg.

"Thank you so much! Oh, where are you right now? Are you still nearby? I had told the usher to bring you backstage with Pedro, but it seems like they forgot."

"Oh, um, yeah, I'm near the backstage door," you reply, glancing at the crowd still waiting for autographs.

"Perfect! Some of us are going out for drinks later, and you are welcome to join us!" Sarah’s excitement is infectious.

You stammer, "Uh, I..."

"It'll be great! I promise. I'll introduce you to everyone. You're my best social media manager by far."

Taking a deep breath, you muster, "Okay, yeah, I'd love to come."

"Great! I'll send you the address of where we're headed. We'll meet you there!" Sarah says, her smile practically audible.

"Alright, see you soon." You end the call with a click, clutching your phone tightly as you take another deep breath to steady your nerves and keep the world from spinning.

A ping alerts you to a new message. Glancing at the notification, you read the address and know exactly where to go. With a mixture of excitement and anxiety, you put away your phone and head towards the bar, the city's lights guiding your way.

It took you a while to figure out how to get there, but eventually, you arrive at the bar. As you step inside, a warm hum fills your body, the lights and the pulse of music thrumming through the room. The smoky, dark atmosphere feels electric, bodies moving in a rhythm that seems to make the air itself burn.

Under the soft pink light, everything seems slightly surreal, yet oddly perfect. You spot Sarah, who immediately pulls you into a warm hug, which you happily accept. As you exchange pleasantries near their table, you feel at ease, enjoying the camaraderie.

Then, suddenly, you sense a shift. You glance up and see Pedro looking right back at you. Your heart skips a beat as your eyes meet, and in that instant, the crowded room seems to fade away.

There he is, the man who had unknowingly captured your heart, his gaze steady and intense. As Sarah guides you over to introduce the rest of her friends, castmates, and of course, Pedro, you feel a pull between the two of you.

You muster the courage to speak, telling him your name, and even through the loud speakers and endless chatter, you hear him say your name with a breathless relief. Finally meeting the mystery girl he saw on the subway seems to have stirred something within him.

When you shake hands, there's a lingering touch, a silent acknowledgment of the connection between you. You can't help but duck your head a little, feeling shy under the intensity of his gaze.

"Nice to finally meet you," Pedro says, his voice soft yet filled with warmth.

"Likewise," you reply, your own voice tinged with a hint of nervousness.

In that brief exchange, you both sense something unspoken, a silent understanding that this meeting is more than just chance. And as the night unfolds, amidst the laughter and music, you find yourself drawn to him, unable to resist the magnetic pull of fate.

As Sarah goes to mingle with the rest of the group, you both stand there, caught in a moment suspended in time. The air crackles with anticipation, and you can't shake the feeling that if you asked him to, he'd give up everything just to be close to you.

"You have a way of lighting up a room," he says, his voice low and full of sincerity as he leans in closer.

A blush creeps up your cheeks at his words, and you find yourself smiling despite yourself. "And you have a way of making me feel like I'm the only one in it," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the night wears on, you find yourself completely enchanted by Pedro. His easy charm and quick wit captivate you, and it's as if the two of you are in your own little world, separate from the chaos of the club.

He tells you stories about his acting career and his passion for music. You share your dreams and aspirations, feeling a sense of comfort in his presence that you've never experienced with anyone before.

Throughout the night, there are moments where your hands brush against each other or your eyes meet in a lingering gaze. Each time it happens, a spark of electricity shoots through your body, igniting a fire within you.

At one point, he leans in closer to whisper in your ear over the loud music. "I have a confession to make," he says, his warm breath tickling your skin.

You turn to face him, your heart racing with anticipation.

He chuckles softly, the sound sending a delightful shiver down your spine. "I can't deny that you've caught my attention since the moment I saw you on the subway."

The admission sends your heart racing, and you can't help but feel a surge of boldness. "Funny, because you've been on my mind ever since," you confess, meeting his gaze with newfound confidence.

His eyes light up with a mixture of surprise and delight, and you can't help but be drawn to the way his lips curl into a playful smirk. "Is that so?" he teases, his voice a low, husky whisper that sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod, feeling a rush of exhilaration coursing through your veins. "Absolutely," you reply, unable to tear your gaze away from his captivating stare.

Before you can say another word, he takes a step closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a dance choreographed just for the two of you. Your breath catches in your throat as his hand brushes against your neck, sending tingles of anticipation racing across your skin.

And then, in a moment that feels like it's been plucked straight from a romance film, his lips meet yours in a soft, tender kiss. Time seems to stand still as you melt into his embrace, the world around you fading away until there's nothing left but the two of you.

As you pull away, breathless and exhilarated, a sense of euphoria washes over you, like a chemical override in ultraviolet. "I just wanna be close to you," he murmurs, his words sending a thrill through your entire being. A smile dances at the corners of your lips as you revel in the electric connection between you.

"And you could be mine tonight," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, the words tinged with a hint of playful flirtation.

He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with affection as he leans in closer. "I think I could get used to being yours," he says, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity, melting away any lingering doubts or fears.

He can't wait to fall in love with you.

#pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedroispunk #ethereal writes #pedro pascal smut #pedrohub #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal character fanfic #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x fem!reader #joel miller x f!reader #yes im delusional

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takes1 · 7 months ago

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p.2 asahi x feral reader w/ a size k!nk

this is gonna get so fucking good ya'll i love thisss!! it's fun writing this sweet guy be a little dirty lmao

warnings. nsfw. minors DNI info. nsfw / build-up to more smut / phone sex / mutual masturbation / blue balls / suggestive conversation / gentle giant!asahi / mutual size kink / sweet asahi / long-mid distance issues / kuroo's sister!reader / kuroo cockblocking / kuroo being protective / 2.3k words / multipart series so reply to be added to taglist! haikyuu collection. more hq here! part one here. part three here. final part here. more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

Your pencil twirled, tap-tap-tapping against your half-filled page of notes as you searched for the next header to copy for this dreadful, draining history class.

Anything to distract you from the fact that he hadn't called you.

The game was Tuesday- now it was Friday evening, and still, no word from him. Maybe you had something in your teeth when you spoke to him, or you smelled bad, or he just didn't like your hair. You had dedicated hours trying to figure it out.

A phone call was hard evidence he was interested in you. Practically a 'yes' to your fantasies, which had only gotten more unhinged with the hurt of this perceived rejection.

He still remained just a few minutes worth of your real energy on some ordinary day. But God, how you mourned for what could've been. How he would've filled you up, wrecking you with the satisfaction and excitement you yearned for.

buzz buzz. buzz buzz. buzz buzz. buzz buzz.

The sound initially deepened your already lackluster mood, because you learned to be disappointed with every call that wasn't from a Miyagi area code.

You were grateful that your eyes happened to glaze over the screen before you completed the swipe to ignore it.

A piercing scream of delight filled your entire house through a cracked bedroom door.

Tetsuro's unwanted, grating voice across the hall shattered your elevated state of bliss:

"SHUT UP!"

"YOU SHUT UP! I'M ON THE PHONE!"

You took a deep breath on the fifth ring and, shaking off the nerves by standing up out of your swivel chair, you swiped across the screen to answer.

"Hello?"

"Hey, is this (Y/n)?" A deep, rumbly voice made your knees weak.

"Y-es," Your voice cracked, tummy tingly, "Is this- Asahi?"

His name left your lips so well. You fell onto your back on your bed, pressing your thighs together at the sound of his reply.

"Yeah, that's me."

You hadn't heard his voice before, thinking hard about it now, because he didn't say anything to you in person.

"I thought you wouldn't call," You bit your lip in restraint, but kept the tension in your belly, "Why'd you keep me waiting for so long?"

A grumbly sigh on the other end gave you a full-body shiver. You crossed your legs.

"I was nervous," He admitted.

The giant did have a heart, after all. Curious, you smiled and looked up.

Your face fell.

"Get out of my room!" You shouted at Tetsuro, who was lingering in the doorway.

"How long have you been in here?!"

"I'm not in your room," He tested you by putting a foot inside, and didn't answer your question, instead pressing his own, "Who the hell are you talking to?"

It reminded you: A quick 'Hold on' and what you thought was the mute button--

You scrambled across your bed to the doorway to close it, but he dove out of the way and you ended up shutting him in. You flung it open again.

"Get out!!"

The demon-spawn was making for your phone, so you leaped onto his back and weighed him down to the floor instead.

"It better not be--," He grunted with effort as he shoved you off by the face, "Some country-bumpkin prick!"

There was no contact on the screen, so he couldn't be sure who you were talking to even with your phone in his hand.

"Who is this?" He interrogated, his torso leaning on your bed, his knee on your chest to keep you down.

You punched his leg over, over, and over again. He swatted at you while looking at your phone to figure out why nobody was responding to him.

It gave you the opportunity to push him off while his balance was uneven. You slapped your phone out of his hand and it clattered to the floor.

There was a violent hush over the two of you.

Tetsuro rose of his own accord, dodging a slap, and kicked your phone far under your bed with a grumble.

"Like I'm gonna just let that happen."

The door slammed behind him. You skittered up, opened it, then called after him, "Stay out!!"

You made sure to lock and barricade it this time.

When you leaned down to find your phone, it was impossible to reach with your hands or legs from either side of the bed. That asshole had made sure to kick it just far enough to make you get creative.

You had to tie together a ruler and a clothing hanger to retrieve it, then use your foot to leverage it out.

To your relief, the call was still active. But it wasn't muted.

Heart sunk halfway down your ribcage, you asked a grim question, "How much of that did you hear?"

His chuckle lifted your spirits instantly.

Almost as a conditioned response, you glanced to the door. It was still secure.

"I'm so sorry, my brother is the worst." You grumbled, climbing back into your bed with a sore face, hand, and knee.

Asahi's tone was clear and smooth.

"It sounds like he just wants to keep you out of trouble."

Your body jumpstarted again at that word. You wanted all the trouble he had to offer. You couldn't help but giggle, since his response sounded as if he was referring to himself.

"I know how to handle myself," You grinned, "I'm only a year younger than him."

"He's a senior, isn't he?"

"Mhm."

"So you're a second-year."

"Mhmm," You could listen to him talk all day. Your hand rubbed over your prickled chest, savoring his voice against your ear.

"Good. I feel like less of a creep, now."

In his admission you could hear his lips curl into a smile- your covered your mouth and kicked your legs in the air.

"Don't tell me you thought I was a first-year," You teased with false surprise.

"I-," He sighed, a little labored, and something shifted against the receiver, "Knew it was a possibility."

His standards aside, your interest moved to the extra sound on his end of the line. You prayed it was something risque.

"What else do you wanna know about me?" You stretched your legs up and watched your blank ceiling, biting your lip in wait for his response.

The way he towered over you- his frame was perfect for your fantasies. You imagined him leaning over you now, legs draped over his massive shoulders.

"What made you want to give me your number?"

Another shift, a heavy sigh. You couldn't raise the volume any higher, nor could you hold the phone any closer to your ear to try to hear what he was doing.

In the hopes that he was dirtier than he wanted to let on, you smiled at the freedom to paint his imagination.

"Hmm..." You drawled.

An eager hand dipped between your legs, with one last glance to the door, and you palmed yourself through your shorts while you spoke.

"Your serve really did it for me," As you recalled that last hit, you heard him shift again, "I like your look- y'know, the whole samurai vibe--,"

Asahi laughed a little, making you grin.

"-I think it's really hot."

A pause. "Wait- really?"

"Yeah!" You giggled, "You're a good mix of cute and scary, that's a huge turn-on."

"Wow."

Maybe it was a bit forward of you to say, but so was everything else until this point. Your breath stalled, hoping that was a good wow. It felt so quiet for so long. Everything was still on both sides.

You sat up after a few moments, pulse quickening, and you bit your finger to keep from blurting out another stupid claim. It must've been too much- you were just about to hang up when you heard a quiet, different tone through the speaker.

"What are you wearing right now?"

Mouth open, you made sure to click mute before squealing into your pillow-- when you came up, teary-eyed from the pressure and excitement, you had to catch your breath.

Your voice was slightly hoarse when you unmuted yourself and asked, calmly, "Do you want me to lie to you?"

Thrown in a dumbing whirl of arousal, you went to reach for a vibrator, but realized the sound would probably be too much. You opted for your own fingers instead and tried hard to visualize his heavy hand over yours.

"Shit-," He huffed an uneven sigh, "Go for it."

Did he have any idea how sexy he sounded? You hoped he did- you hoped he knew exactly how to touch you, pleasure you, break you, then put you back together.

Your raised, flirty tone didn't match your answer, "Nothing."

The rumble of his laugh guided your hand to swirl small, soft circles around your clit. Your chest rose and fell a little faster, chasing the budding tightness that was finally coming back to you.

"What are you doing right now?" You couldn't help but ask. It was too tempting to wait around for him to tell you.

"Mm, I'm talkin' to you," He evaded. His smirk was audible through the phone.

His slight regional accent was so perfect. To Hell with city boys, you wanted this big, gruff countryside boy.

He laughed at your whine.

"I wish you weren't so far away," His tone lowered to a bare mutter- it was dripping in lust, but he covered it with a thin veil of wariness.

Your fingers felt so good, but his reminder only made you more sensitive to how you could never fulfill the ache deep inside without him right here, in Tokyo.

You could appreciate how he still kept his cards close. You weren't as patient as him- but upon your inevitable frustration that he wasn't as candid as you, the realization that it was the safer outcome dawned on you. If he wasn't so careful, he might hurt you.

Still, you were riding gentle, pleasant waves while you daydreamed through your response.

"How long would a train ride be?"

He didn't have to tell you how pretty you sounded for you to know. The little raise at the end of your sentence, the tiny waiver in your voice, you knew he liked it.

The quiet seethe on his end confirmed this. He told you without having to look it up, "Hour and a half."

Your pussy practically shut down.

"I could do that," You lied. Your brother would explode if he found out you hopped on a bullet train by yourself to go see some Karasuno boy- and he would. He always did.

Another low laugh. It fixed everything. You threw your head back again, fingers in your mouth so your fingers could slide a little better.

"Don't sound so disappointed," He cooed, "Me and the guys are gonna be in town for the weekend- and I was just thinkin'--,"

"Oh my god, yes. Whatever you're about to say, yes."

His distant 'Damn' away from the phone made you blush. You stopped touching yourself, just for the time being.

"There's just one problem."

You waited for the reveal without responding, then realized he wanted you to ask him.

"What?" You giggled at the weird pause.

His laugh was faint through the rest of his point, "Your brother."

You squinted at your ceiling again with a grumpy sigh. He was right. In fact, you were sure he didn't know the extent of how right he was. Your family was on Life360, and he had your location at all times.

If you turned your phone off, or deleted the app, or put it on 'battery saving-mode' he'd know, and it would be more ground to question you on.

It wasn't the tattling that bothered you, it was his nosiness in the first place.

The last time you snuck out to go see a boy further in the city, he followed you and ruined your movie date by kicking the back of his chair for half of the film. He drove you home and grilled you the entire way back.

"Fuck," You sighed, sitting up with a bit of a tummy-ache from your abandoned orgasm, "Yeah."

It sounded like he was moving again, but he was less flirty, and it made you think he maybe put his dick back up to think better.

"He actually called our team captain, Daichi. We were uh, still on the way back from the game. On the bus. And he put it on speaker."

Your jaw dropped again.

"Said he'd- ha-ha, he said he'd castrate anyone who touched you."

An annoyed sound left you.

"Don't tell me you believe that," You laughed pitifully.

Part of you believed it, so you wouldn't blame him if he did. That same days-long disappointment was creeping back.

Asahi considered his answer. He landed on, "I think... ah, I don't know. I think being cautious is smart."

You nodded slowly, but he couldn't see.

"I still wanna see ya," He added.

You grinned, relieved, and a little aroused again at his drawl, "Good."

It still left the obvious problem. You deliberated on what you could do. A glance to the locked door gave you one idea. Another glance to the window elaborated on it.

How could you see him, not leave the house, and have your brother not know at the same time?

Your question was slow as you slid off of your mattress and started to test the reliability of your window frame.

"How good are you at climbing?"

taglist.

thank ya'll for supporting this!!! i love this series it's so fun to write so i'm glad other people do too!! reply to be added to existing list :)

@valiantqueengarden @rinheartshyunlix @alpha-mommy69 @yuyunhoo @insertamazingnamehere @kreishin

masterlist.

requests. (including what you might want to see in the next 2 parts)

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undressrehearsal · 14 days ago

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a bite of luxury

summary: you decide to look for a sugar mommy and stumble across this strange girl that seems to have more to hide

tags: sugarmommy!ellie, rich!ellie, vampire!ellie (yep, we got it all) alcohol, reader is poor lmao, reader uses she/her and is referred to as a girl once or twice, no smut in this one sorry gotta establish the world first

word count: ~8k

a/n: it's been so long since i posted a fic lol working full time and trying to finish my book is killing my schedule BUT i hope y'all like this this was my fiancee's idea and i'm running with it i got a LOT of plans for this one - plans i think y'all are gonna love

also the drawing in the cover is made by @nramv seriously go check out their work they're so talented!!

if you wanna be added to my tag list just lmk!

You hadn’t been searching for a sugar mommy.

Truthfully, when your best friend had sent you the link, you had dismissed it immediately. She had been joking about it for months, talking about how much easier it would be if you just found a nice older woman to take care of you. You hadn’t even opened the link - you only rolled your eyes, replied with a middle finger emoji, and left it at that.

And yet things kept piling up. The stack of bills on your kitchen counter was growing to a concerning height, a mountain of unanswered responsibilities that was getting harder to ignore. Your landlord kept calling you - you no longer answered, just watched the phone ring until it finally stopped and ignored the increasingly angrier voicemails. Your apartment was an absolute disaster; you could never be bothered to clean it, because by the time you got home from working both of your jobs, you only had enough energy to eat a bowl of leftovers and promptly pass out in bed.

The link kept popping up in your mind, each bill in your mailbox a gentle reminder. You found yourself scrolling all the way up the text chain to find it again during sleepless nights. So many times you would only stare at it, your thumb hovering over the blue letters, before you closed the chat and threw your phone down.

It was stupid, of course. But as time went on, the idea of letting yourself get buried alive under a mountain of debt - of getting evicted from your apartment and having to crash on your friend’s couch - seemed all the more stupid.

So, late on a Thursday night, after you had had another anxiety attack staring down at your bank account, you went back up the text chain, and you clicked the link.

www.seeking.com

It didn't take long for the messages to start coming in. You should have been flattered, honestly - you had at least a handful of people in your messages practically begging you for the honor of paying your fucking rent - but you really just felt like you were playing a part that you hadn't even read the script for. You had curated your profile with all the things that made you appear more cultured than you actually were: going to museums and pondering over Baroque art and reading poetry over a pretentious cup of coffee. Sure, these were all things you had done - you had photo proof, after all - but somehow you didn't recognize yourself. It felt like you were looking at pictures of a stranger living a life you wanted but couldn't reach.

Most people were fine - charming, even. You got maybe one or two that felt like they would lure you into their sex dungeon to murder you, but that was expected with any dating site. You even went on a few dates, scrounging up the nicest dress you owned and getting pampered at a five-star restaurant or going for a ride on an older woman’s personal yacht. One person even took you for a helicopter ride, which was fun but she was a little too handsy on the first date to warrant a second.

One name kept popping up though, a name that was becoming far too familiar in your notifications.

ellie: meet me at 8 <3

When she first messaged you, you had thought she was like you: somebody searching for a partner to pay their bills. Her pictures didn't exactly scream sugar mommy material. Her first picture was just a normal selfie taken outside; she wore a worn out leather jacket, her short hair tangled from the wind and green eyes squinting in the sunlight. She had stupid pictures of mushrooms and candid shots of her browsing a science museum, looking far too excited in front of a t-rex skeleton. Hell, in most of her pictures she looked like she was wearing clothes she had found at a thrift store.

You had thought she was like you, until she sent you a picture inside her fucking Rolls-Royce.

“Fuck,” you audibly cursed into the quiet of your room. You had been talking for a few days, and she had begun to do that - sending you small selfies throughout the day. In the last one, she had taken a picture in front of the mirror at the gym, flicking off the camera, her lean muscles glistening with sweat. Before that, it had been a blurry picture of her dog, Riley - a huge German Shephard - splayed on her back at a park, leaves stuck in her fur.

So, yeah, when you found out Ellie was not only rich, but rich enough to casually have a Royce, you were more than a little surprised.

The selfie was cute, you couldn’t deny that. Her hair was wind-swept, catching in those long ass eyelashes. Ellie’s nose was scrunched up, freckles popping against her cheeks, holding up a peace sign.

She was fucking adorable and you already knew it. But seeing her worn out leather jacket and messy hair against black and white leather seats that looked like they, alone, cost more than your entire apartment complex combined - it was a little jarring.

And when she asked you out on a date soon after - after finding out she wasn’t Iike you but rather searching for someone like you - how could you say no?

Ellie offered to pick you up - like a gentleman, she had said - but frankly, you weren’t quite convinced yet that she wasn’t some blood-thirsty pervert trying to lure you into her dungeon, so you politely declined. Instead, in your nicest dress and heels you hardly wore because they pinched your toes, you called an Uber.

You had never been to this side of town. You had plugged in the address Ellie gave you - had double and triple checked it while your awkwardly chatty Uber driver tried asking you about what you do for a living - but the streets here were so unfamiliar you may as well have been in another city. You looked at the foreign buildings rising up around you, large windows giving you a glimpse of the life inside them. People were sitting outside in the chilly air, laughing over wine and dinner. Looking at them - with perfectly sculpted hair and clothes you would have to spend several entire paychecks on - you felt like a cheap impersonator dressed up in a costume.

The Uber pulled up in front of a hotel, and your heart stopped. Surely, this wasn’t where Ellie had sent you - leading you to some fucking hotel room when you hadn’t even met yet?

You turned to the driver, your home address at the edge of your tongue, when the car door opened.

You had practically been leaning against the door to peer out the window, and nearly lost your balance when it was suddenly gone without warning. You looked up, ready to yell at whatever pretentious prick in Prada was trying to fuck with you - but your voice died in your throat.

Ellie was shorter than you thought she'd be, honestly. In all her pictures, she had this commanding energy, like she would tower over you in person.

Which, to be fair, she was. She had her arm propped on the doorframe above your head, leaning over so she could meet your eyes. Her hair was pushed back from her face, a few stray strands falling over her forehead, and she was looking at you with an intensity that hadn't quite translated through her pictures.

Ellie smiled - that adorably crooked smile you had seen in all her selfies - and said, “Hi.”

And the only word you were able to get your mouth to form was, “Fuck.”

Ellie blinked at you for a moment - long enough that you could feel the flush creeping up your neck and were ready to walk home if you had to - before she finally laughed. That wasn’t like what you had expected either; she had this deep, rough laugh, almost like she was trying to hold it in.

She looked up at you through her lashes - you tried to ignore the way your heart inexplicably skipped - and said, “I’ll take that as a compliment?” Her voice tilted up at the end like it was a question. Ellie ducked her head down further, looking past you to meet the driver’s eyes, and pulled cash from her back pocket. With her most charming smile, she handed it to the driver and said, “Thanks for getting her here safe.”

You didn’t see how much money she gave him, but after she took your hand and guided you out of the car, you turned back just in time to see his grin before he sped off.

“Thanks for coming out.” You looked back at Ellie and found yourself speechless once again. (You, thankfully, were able to hold in the expletive this time.) The worn out jacket that had featured in just about all of her pictures was missing, replaced instead by a pristine, white satin shirt, the top few buttons undone to expose a sliver of collarbone and a gold chain beneath. Despite the chill in the air, she had a classy black jacket hanging from her arm as though it were an accessory. Ellie smiled and looked down, licking her lips before saying, “You’re quite the sight for sore eyes.”

You tried to smile at her but found that your eyes kept flitting behind her, looking at the looming monstrosity of the hotel. It was a nice hotel - the kind that had a huge fountain right in front of it and a chandelier in the lobby that sparkled through the window - but it was a hotel nonetheless. Despite the set in your jaw, traitorous tears stung the corners of your eyes; you wanted to kick yourself for actually thinking that Ellie might be different.

Ellie followed your gaze over her shoulder, her smile dropping, before she quickly turned back to you with panic in her eyes. She stumbled over her words as though her tongue weren’t cooperating: “Shit, I’m sorry, this looks really bad doesn't it?” She grimaced and squeezed your hand she was still holding, scratching awkwardly at the back of her head with the other. “Fuck, this isn’t the first impression I wanted. I could promise it's not what it looks like, but maybe it'd be better if I just showed you?”

You honestly did think about telling her to fuck off. She was a complete fucking stranger that you only really knew from a dating app, and she was trying to lure you into a hotel in a part of town you were unfamiliar with - really, only an idiot would follow her.

But she was looking at you with wide green eyes, the lights around you shining back like stars. While searching for the constellations, you found yourself saying, “Okay.” You blinked, pulled from a trance, and added, “But you should know, I do have a taser in my bag.”

That pulled a shocked laugh from Ellie’s lips. She gently tugged on your hand, pulling you towards the door, and said, “Smart girl.”

You knew that the hotel was outside of your price range because a perfectly groomed doorman opened the door for you, waving you inside with a gloved hand. You didn’t take much time to process the interior - the chandelier was just as grand as it had seemed from outside and elaborate columns rose to the ceiling - because Elllie was pulling you towards the elevators. It was like she wanted to ignore the fact that she had brought you to a hotel at all. You couldn’t decide if that was reassuring.

In the empty elevator, you gently drew your hand back and leaned against the wall opposite her. You tried to ignore looking at the way her pinstripe slacks hugged the curves of her thighs, the fabric straining when she propped one booted foot on the wall behind her.

“So,” you started in a desperate attempt to fill the awkward silence, “if you’re not leading me into a seedy hotel room on the first date, then what are we doing?”

“Okay, one,” Ellie said, chuckling, “this is anything but a seedy hotel. And two, what kind of a date would it be if I ruined the surprise?”

“And what if I don’t like surprises?” you countered.

Ellie grinned. “I think you’ll like this one.”

When the elevator doors opened, Ellie held her hand out to you as though it were a question. You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand back in hers and letting her lead you out into open air.

You nearly choked on a gasp.

The bar itself was beautiful - fairy lights stretched above your head, twinkling like stars and casting the rooftop in a warm glow. Wooden tables and plush couches were spread artfully around the space, far enough apart to provide the patrons scattered about with some privacy.

The bar was beautiful - but the view was fucking breathtaking.

The city stretched out beyond the railings, open in a way you had never seen before. The skyline rose around you, each building shining like its own little galaxy amidst a sea of stars. The city lights blocked out the actual stars - a fact that never failed to piss you off - but you could see the crescent of the moon rising over the city, casting a quiet glow like a veil.

You looked back at Ellie, and whatever your face held made her grin. She leaned in just enough so that her murmur was for your ears only: “So, was I right?”

You blinked, momentarily distracted by her proximity - she smelled intoxicating, spicy and warm with a hint of tobacco beneath - before you finally said, “What?”

Ellie snorted, breaking whatever spell she had put you under. “The surprise,” she said, leaning away enough for your head to clear. “Was I right?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pursing your lips as though you had to think about it. You couldn’t take your eyes away from the skyline stretched before you.

You finally said, “That depends on how good the drinks are.”

When Ellie laughed, her eyes crinkled in the corners, her nose scrunching. It was a full, rich sound, hanging in the air above your head like helium. It made something in your chest tighten, and you wanted nothing more than to hear it again.

She squeezed your hand, a twinkle in her eye, and said, “The old-fashioned's to die for.”

You pursed your lips again to hide your smile.

Ellie didn’t bother checking in with the host, simply shot her a smile and a wave as you walked by - you tried to bite back a giggle when you saw the host’s face turn red, her eyes tracking Ellie as she led you to a table right along the edge of the railing. She pulled the chair out for you - “Such a gentleman,” you laughed - before taking the seat opposite you.

As she waved over a waiter, you took a moment to lean your head over the railing. It was made entirely of glass, giving you a clear view of the city below. You could hear the distant sound of traffic, cars racing below you like shiny beetles, but it was like it was coming from a different world altogether. Everything seemed impossibly, wonderfully small from up here.

You looked up at the sound of your name to find a groomed waiter wearing a fucking waistcoat standing before you. Ellie was looking at you with laughter in her eyes, her lips twitching.

“Shit, sorry,” you said, immediately flinching at your own curse. You suddenly couldn’t remember the proper etiquette in a fancy bar, feeling out of place and underdressed even in your nicest outfit. You looked between Ellie and the waiter, wracking your brain for any kind of drink that wasn’t a trashy cocktail you’d find at a dive bar.

Seeing you floundering, Ellie gave you a reassuring smile and said, “Do you like wine?”

Relief washed over you as you nodded. Turning back to the waiter, Ellie ordered something that you couldn’t even hope to pronounce, charm lifting the corner of her mouth. She spoke to the waiter with the steady ease of familiarity, laughing at some inside joke; you briefly wondered just how often Ellie came to this bar. Surely, a nice place like this - at the very precipice of the world, looking down at the stars - wouldn’t be a regular stop on anyone’s schedule, but Ellie and the staff spoke like old friends.

When the waiter left, tussling Ellie’s hair playfully, she turned back to you and the awkwardness of a first date finally set in. Sure, you had been texting Ellie every day for a week now, but you still hardly knew the girl. You knew she liked mushrooms and hiking. You knew that most of her clothes were from the thrift store even though she could afford any designer brand she wanted. You knew her favorite video game was Dishonored. But nothing you knew was enough for a relationship.

But you weren't exactly looking for love, were you?

After a moment of silence, Ellie cleared her throat, looking out over the city. “It's nice out here.”

You snorted before you could stop yourself, covering your mouth; it didn't cover the laughter in your eyes. You said, “You're really talking to me about the weather?”

Ellie opened her mouth, an indignant sparkle to her eye, before shutting it again. It was like she was malfunctioning, opening and closing her mouth yet no sound came out. She furrowed her brows, looking at you as though you were something new and interesting, before finally chuckling, looking away. “Yeah, I-I guess I am.” When she looked back up at you, her eyes were surprisingly sheepish. “Not making a great first impression, am I?”

You couldn't stop the smile that crept up to your eyes. You leaned closer, propping your chin in your hand, and said, “I think you're doing okay so far.”

Ellie laughed that wondrous laugh again, her nose scrunching up, and the cord in your shoulders loosened.

“Okay,” she sighed, her eyes still alight with residual laughter. “Okay, damn. Tell me about yourself.”

“Well now this just sounds like a job interview.”

Ellie threw her hands up in mock frustration, trying to stifle her own grin. “Okay, fuck, knock me down again! You're obviously an expert, so show me how it's done.”

She leaned back and crossed her arms, looking at you expectantly, and it was the perfect moment for your drinks to arrive. Ellie did, in fact, order an old-fashioned. The waiter set two wine glasses on the table, producing a bottle seemingly from thin air. He held it out, explaining to you in rehearsed prose the year, acidity, and complexity in words that passed straight through you. You nodded along even as you didn't process a single word he said.

When he left, you turned back to Ellie and said, “How did you find this place?”

Ellie took a sip of her drink. The lights of the city danced in the amber glass. “Just an old haunt of mine, I guess.”

You took a sip of the wine, taking the distraction. It was warm on your tongue, tasting of wood and fruit and something spicy just underneath. The wine you usually drank was the stuff you could find in your nearest grocery store, often tasting concerningly like bug spray and bought with whatever tips you had managed to scrape together from work. It was usually shared with a friend on your kitchen floor, the walls and thoughts spinning over your head.

You much preferred wine like this: The taste of warmth and fire on your tongue, the cool air brushing your shoulders at the edge of the sky, and a beautiful person sitting across from you.

When Ellie lowered her glass, you could see amber droplets of whiskey clinging to her lips before her tongue darted out to catch them. You tore your eyes away, but her smile said that she had caught you staring. A chill ran up your spine that you were sure was just from the cold.

Seeing you shiver, Ellie wordless reached behind her where she had tossed her jacket over the back of her chair. Standing, she rounded the table only for a moment, only long enough to place the coat over your shoulders. Her hands lingered there for a second too long before she retreated, sliding back into her seat as though she had never moved.

“So, why are you here?” she finally said.

You pulled the jacket around your shoulders, distracted by the smell of it. The same smell that must be her perfume clung to it, spiced and warm like an open fire, but something else clung to the fabric too. It was strangely metallic, sharp and intoxicating, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was shockingly warm against your skin.

“I’m here,” you said, raising a brow and ignoring her real question, “because you sent me this address and told me to meet you here at eight wearing my nicest dress.”

The corner of Ellie’s lips quirked, a grin she was trying to hide. She clasped her hands, leaning across the table so you could smell the whiskey on her breath. “And you agreed to meet a stranger at a seedy hotel,” she murmured, mocking your remark from earlier. Her grin revealed itself when your cheeks flushed. “But why are you here - what are you seeking?”

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “That’s kind of a dumb question, don’t you think? It’s pretty obvious why I’m on the app.” You cocked your head, leaning across the table, feeling a strange thrill when her eyes flashed. Your heart fluttered at the proximity, and you couldn’t remember when you had become so easily starstruck. “The real question, Ellie, is why are you?“

Ellie’s eyes darkened, and you weren’t sure if you just imagined her eyes flicking down to your lips. She looked back up at you through her lashes, her voice rough when she said, “That’s a third date kind of question.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What makes you so sure you’ll get a third date?”

Ellie tilted her head, a slow smile pulling at her lips, and said, “Call it a hunch.”

The waiter came to check on you, appearing at your shoulder like a ghost. You hastily retreated, leaning back in your chair as though the electricity in the air had shocked you, and took a sip of wine that was more than a little overzealous. You tried to choke it down as Ellie waved the waiter away with that heartstopping crooked smile. What happened to you? Since when were you so easily charmed by freckles, green eyes, and smart-ass comments? You couldn't remember the last time you had been so infatuated during a normal date, let alone one with these kinds of strings attached.

“So you don't want to be in an interview,” Ellie said once the waiter was out of earshot. “I guess all my typical getting to know you conversations are out of the question.”

“I didn't say that,” you countered, your throat still burning from your accidental wine waterboarding. “But come on - what girl are you going to impress by asking her questions like ‘Tell me about yourself,’ or ‘Why are you here?’ or ‘Why are you more qualified for this position?’”

“Okay, okay, goddamn,” she said, laughing. Grabbing the wine bottle, she looked at you for permission before pouring you another glass.

You brought the glass up to your lips, taking a sip to hide your smile. The flush in your cheeks was surely from the wine and nothing else. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I hardly know you.” On one hand, that felt entirely untrue - but especially after this recent discovery, you really knew nothing about this girl. “Tell me about you.”

Ellie laughed that same rough laugh and your heart jumped. “Oh, so you're allowed to be the interviewer.”

You nodded, twirling the glass between your fingers and looking at her expectantly.

After a moment, Ellie rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her hair, but you could see the humor in her eyes. She downed the last of her old-fashioned and, like a good sport, said, “What do you want to know?”

Turns out, there was a lot to know - more than a simple dating app would tell you. Ellie had an older sister, Sarah, who lived in Dallas. Her dog was named after her childhood best friend. Her jacket wasn't thrifted after all, but had been her dad's. Speaking of which, she used to go hunting with him every season (“I haven't been in years, though,” she said, her eyes distant). On the weekends, she'd go to antique stores to look for art and trinkets to fill her house - her favorite antiques were from the 17th century. She hated horror movies and was a sucker for a good romance.

In return, you caved and answered her pressing questions. You told her about your best friend - Ellie laughed when you told her that your friend had sent you the link to the app in the first place. You told her about your favorite show that you binge-watched whenever you felt like you were spiraling. You did not tell her about your apartment that was probably the size of her closet or the fact that you'd have to watch your budget after taking the Uber tonight, not to mention the extra $30 Uber to get home later. You did tell her about your family, and a strange, unexplained sadness crept into the creases around her mouth. You did tell her about your job, but didn't mention the second one you worked to afford groceries. You told her you were hoping for a real, human connection, yet didn't mention that you couldn’t imagine finding it in a fucking sugar mommy.

All too soon, the wine bottle was empty and your chest was comfortingly warm. The lights strung across the bar danced above your head like fuzzy stars, and Ellie's smile was the brightest amongst them. Her glass was still empty, her wine glass dry, and yet her eyes told you she was intoxicated by something far stronger.

“Sorry,” you said, giggling despite yourself. “I didn't mean to drink it all.”

“Don't worry about it, darling,” she said, her voice silky smooth, reminding you of melted chocolate sliding down your throat. She tilted her glass, letting the remnants of melting ice clink against the side. “I wanted to make sure I could drive home okay.”

The waiter arrived then, pulling the bill from his pocket and handing it to Ellie. You couldn't read the number upside down, not through the haze of the wine, but the number of digits made your stomach clench. Ellie dropped a black card into the folder and handed it back to the waiter.

“How much do you want me to Venmo you?” you asked when she turned back to you. You clenched your hands in the hem of your dress, already calculating the extra shift you'd have to pick up to afford it.

Ellie tilted her head, her brows furrowed. “Nothing,” she said, as though it were obvious.

“That wasn't exactly a cheap bottle, Ellie,” you laughed. “Let me give you something.”

Ellie hummed, propping her chin in her hand and looking at you with those same intense eyes; it sent a dangerous shiver down your spine. “I like when you say my name.”

You blinked at her. “Excuse me.”

“I want to hear it again. That's how you can repay me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ellie, I-”

“Okay, now we're even,” she interrupted, smiling that crooked grin that you had started to crave. The waiter returned with her card and Ellie produced cash from her pocket, handing it to the waiter directly. He thanked her profusely before making his exit, grinning. When Ellie looked at you again, you were still watching her expectantly, dumbfounded. She finally rolled her eyes. “Seriously, what kind of date would I be if I made you pay?”

“You're not making me, I'm offering.”

“And I'm saying no.” Ellie stood, straightening her shirt; when she tugged at it, the collar fell a bit, exposing sharp collarbones beneath.

Rounding the table, she offered a hand to you, pulling you gently to your feet. You pulled her jacket tighter around yourself, knowing you needed to give it back yet unwilling to part with it just yet.

Taking your arm, Ellie leaned in close enough that your breath caught in your throat and said, “I know why I found you on Seeking, okay? So, if it's alright with you, let me spoil you. Even if that just means one bottle of wine.”

You laughed, but it sounded breathy even to your own ringing ears. “One very expensive bottle of wine.”

Ellie shrugged, a sparkle in her eye. “It's a small price to pay for your company.”

You were silent in the elevator, but you held on to her arm as though afraid to let go. You couldn't figure out why, but something in you urgently wanted nothing more than to be close to her. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt such a pull from somebody.

Back on the street, the lights of the city seemed so much brighter than they had before. Ellie released your arm, turning to face you, and there was a strange pinch between her brows that you couldn't translate.

“Do you want me to call you an Uber, or do you want me to take you home?” she asked, and your brain short-circuited. When you could do nothing but stammer, tripping over your own tongue, Ellie laughed. There was no mockery behind it, only quiet, bright amusement. “I meant I can drive you to your apartment so you don't have to drunkenly sit in an awkward Uber that smells sickeningly sweet and the driver tries to make mind-numbing small talk.”

Your sigh of relief came out more like a laugh.

Ellie tilted her head and stepped closer to you, her hand reaching out to graze your fingers, and that sigh was sucked right back into your lungs. Being so close to her made your head spin. Her breath fanned against your cheeks, smelling of warm whiskey, when she said, “Unless you want to come to my place?”

It had the uncertain tilt of a question, and Ellie wouldn't quite meet your eyes.

“We don't have to do anything,” she continued in a rush. She scratched anxiously at the back of her head, a nervous laugh slipping between her lips. “We can just sit and talk more. Or watch a movie - my dad had this huge collection. I'm not gonna - You know, I'm not going to do anything you don't want.” She finally interrupted herself with a groan, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “Fuck, sorry, I wanted it to sound more suave than this.”

And you would be a fucking idiot to go home with this impossible stranger. You had been taught better - never get into a stranger's car, and for the love of God, never let them take you to a second location. You could let her take you back to your apartment at least - you were admittedly incredibly tipsy and didn't particularly want to endure another ride with an annoyingly talkative Uber driver. You could go home, back to your claustrophobic, quiet apartment, and maybe - maybe - text Ellie about setting up a second date.

You were not stupid enough to go home with somebody on the first date.

Except clearly you were, because you took the hand that was still grazing your fingers and looked up at Ellie - the contours of her face were shockingly etched with insecurity. And your dumb mouth said, of its own volition, “Okay.”

You had expected something flashy, like what a wealthy person would own in a movie - like a penthouse overlooking the city with too-white walls and electric guitars hanging, unused, on the walls. Maybe she had walls completely made of windows so it felt like you were on a pedestal overlooking the world.

You hadn't expected a house that was older than your great-grandparents.

When Ellie pulled into the driveway, you were sure she was just pulling in someplace to turn around, that she had missed her turn somewhere. But she put her stupidly-expensive car into park and killed the engine, shooting you an awkward glance.

“Sorry,” she said, chuckling. “I know it’s not much.”

You could only look at her incredulously, speechless, before looking back up at the house before you. You couldn’t even call it a house really - estate would be more fitting. Maybe mansion. Fuck, her house was the size of your apartment complex. It towered over you, three stories of intricate woodwork, warm brown beams wrapping around the structure like an elaborate skeleton. With beautiful eaves winding around the roof and an entire turret reaching for the moon, it looked like something that had stepped right out of some 1800s southern gothic novel.

Ellie cleared her throat, startling you from a trance. You looked back at her and, for some reason, couldn’t stop yourself from laughing.

”Shit, sorry,” you said, covering your mouth with your hand. “I just - I’ve just never seen anything like it.” When Ellie’s eyes clouded over with uncertainty, you added softly, “It’s beautiful. Besides, Ellie,” you added, laughing again, “‘not much’ doesn’t really suit you.”

Ellie opened and closed her mouth and yet no words came out. She was looking at you again as though you were something interesting - something new and exciting. Nobody had ever looked at you that way before, and the way your heart clenched at the sight was more than a little dangerous.

Ellie finally smiled, huffing out a laugh - your heart was pretty satisfied with how often you were able to make her laugh - and said, “Do you still want to come inside?”

And, surprisingly, you said, “Yeah, I do.”

As Ellie got out, rounding the car to open your door for you, you discreetly checked that the taser was still in your bag. Sure, you had agreed to go home with a practical stranger, but you couldn't be too careful.

The porch steps creaked as she led you to the door - double doors (of course), with stained glass and twisting vines carved into the wood. When Ellie opened them, it felt like you were transported to a different time on an entirely different world.

The grand staircase caught your eye first - how could it not? Warm wooden steps covered in a blood red runner, a white banister winding up, those same vines that seemed to be the house’s signature carved into it. You could see a large, stained-glass window at the landing before it curved to disappear to the second floor. Moonlight splintered through the window in broken relief.

As though in a trance, you wandered further into the house, walking to the fireplace situated right beneath the stairs. The wood stacked neatly inside was cold, untouched by a flame. There was a large mirror set atop the mantle, its gold frame a work of art alone. In the reflection, you could see the flush to your cheeks, and tried to convince yourself it was only from the cold. You still wore Ellie’s jacket, and you pulled it tight around your shoulders, as though it were a shield.

You watched Ellie’s reflection as she walked slowly towards you, a small smile gracing her lips. She came close enough to touch - close enough that you could feel her cool breath against the back of your neck - and yet she didn’t put a hand on you.

“There’s a lot more to see than the foyer,” she murmured, the words brushing your skin. “If you still want.”

And you couldn’t stop your own smile as you turned back to her, your heart skipping at her proximity. “Show me.”

She took your hand, her fingers shockingly cold, and led you into what must have been her living room - sitting room? Despite the fact that the house felt more like a museum - like you would get scolded for touching anything - the room was surprisingly cozy. A large, plush sectional was situated in front of another fireplace- this one also unblemished. Blankets and quilts were thrown over the couch and the accompanying chairs, leaving this time capsule looking strangely welcoming.

“Okay, I have to ask,” you said, turning back to Ellie. She was watching you carefully, gauging your reaction with soft eyes, and you lost your train of thought. You opened your mouth but no sound came out; you weren’t sure if that was more or less embarrassing than the several curses you had said earlier in the night.

Ellie hummed, raising her hand as though she wanted to touch you. She stopped only inches away from your cheek and dropped her hand, saying, “I’m an open book.”

You had to turn away to collect your thoughts, wandering across the room if just to catch your breath. The opposite wall was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. You ran your fingers along the spines of vintage classics, an array of science books, and comics, enjoying the irony of seeing Savage Starlight in the middle of all this history. You picked up a copy to keep your hands busy.

“How, um,” you started, stumbling over your words, “how did you end up here?”

Ellie hummed again, and you heard her footsteps following you. “Here as in this town, this country, this world? You gotta be a little more specific.”

You sighed, giving in and turning to look at her. She kept a careful distance, standing a few feet away from you with her hands in her pockets. “You know what I mean, smartass.”

Ellie chuckled, but her eyes had grown distant, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. She took a few more steps closer to you, looking at the comic book in your hands. On the app, she hadn’t struck you as the type to get easily bashful, and yet she had proven you wrong a few times already.

“My family lived here,” she finally said, quiet as a secret. You watched her carefully, jumping at the opportunity to stare at her without those intense eyes looking back at you. Her brow furrowed and she pressed her lips together as though she was in pain, her green eyes shining. “It was just… passed down, I guess? It’s kind of always been here ever since I can remember. I’m not entirely sure when it became mine.”

You tucked the comic book back into its spot between The Iliad and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. You said absently, “How old is this place anyway?”

”It was built in 1816,” she said automatically, as though it were memorized.

“It’s an awfully big house for just one person.” You looked up at her through your lashes as she stepped closer - close enough that you could smell that same metallic warmth that seemed to cling to her.

“It is,” Ellie murmured, smiling. She reached out again, and this time she allowed herself to touch you. Her cold fingers brushed against your cheek before she gently cupped your jaw, tilting your head so you’d look at her properly. Her green eyes were downright intimidating. “But I keep good company.”

You rolled your eyes, yet you couldn’t convince yourself to look away. “Is that what you say to all the girls?”

Ellie hummed, bracing her other hand on the bookshelf behind your head, and murmured, “No, I don’t.” She pressed in closer, her gaze dropping to your mouth, and you felt like your heart was going to leap from your throat. Ellie huffed out a laugh as though she could hear it pounding against your chest. When her thumb brushed your bottom lip, your lips parted on instinct. She didn’t look away, transfixed on the point where her skin touched your mouth, and you almost didn’t hear her when she said, “Can I?”

And you had never been the kind of person to kiss on the first date, but she was looking at you with eyes hooded with want, her breath fanning against your cheeks. When she licked her lips, you couldn’t stop your eyes from following the motion. Her lips glistened, parted and plump, looking so impossibly soft. Somehow, past your haze, you heard yourself say, “Yes.”

Ellie took her time in kissing you. She pressed you back gently, your shoulders pressing into the bookshelf behind you, and touched her nose to yours. She took a deep breath, breathing you in. Her hand was soft against your cheek, tilting your jaw up, and you hardly had to move to finally kiss her.

Ellie tasted just like she smelled - spicy and metallic, the old-fashioned still hanging on her tongue. Despite the cold of her hand on your cheek, her mouth was impossibly warm, her breath slipping between your lips; it was intoxicating in a way that the wine couldn’t compare to. Her mouth moved against yours, soft and slow as a dance.

Your hands reached out as though of their own accord, circling her waist and gripping at the slippery silk of her shirt. She pressed in close, crowding you against the bookshelf; you could feel her chest pressing against you, her hips on yours, the line of her body against yours making your head spin. And when Ellie’s tongue pressed against your lips, a gentle request for access, you felt like you’d faint altogether.

Her tongue slipped between your teeth and you couldn’t stop the breathy sound it pulled from your throat. You could feel that infuriating smile against your lips and suddenly wanted nothing more than to wipe it away. You balled her ridiculously expensive shirt in your hands and pulled her impossibly closer, nipping at her bottom lip, and you wanted to swallow her gasp.

Ellie pulled away, chuckling, but she didn’t go far. She pressed a kiss to your cheek, her lips trailing down to your jaw, and she could probably feel your pulse jump beneath her tongue. You could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Do you do this often?”

Her teeth grazed the sensitive spot below your ear, and it took you a few moments before you could respond. “Do what?” Despite yourself - despite the way your fingers gripped her shirt, your head swimming and an unexplainable want burning in your veins - you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go on a date with somebody I met on an app for sugar babies and go back to their ridiculously old mansion on the first date and-“

You cut yourself off. You weren’t sure exactly what was happening, and you were afraid that voicing it would break whatever spell you were under - whatever spell made this impossible woman’s touch feel like lightning.

But Ellie only laughed, biting at the spot where your neck met your shoulder. “Yeah, that.”

You shivered against her touch. “No, I’ve never really done this.”

“Guess I’m just lucky.”

Ellie kissed you again, only briefly, before she finally pulled away. She was grinning, her eyes sparkling with those same constellations; her face wasn’t even flushed, making you feel embarrassed about your burning cheeks. You were panting, intoxicated from the night and wine and Ellie. Her absence felt like an ache, your body craving the feeling of her lips, her teeth, her hands. You were close to tugging her back in, your hands still gripping her shirt, but she gently untangled herself from you with a laugh.

“I want to keep going.” She paused, and then emphasized, “I really want to keep going. But you drank an entire bottle of wine, and I’d be kind of a shitty host if I didn’t offer you something to drink at least. Or are you hungry?”

You were hungry, but it was the kind of hunger that food wouldn’t satiate. Still, you let your hands drop back to your sides, feeling your senses return to you now that they weren’t so tuned into Ellie - how she smelled, tasted, felt. When you laughed, it sounded breathy even to your own ears. “Some water would be nice.”

“I can do that,” she said with a smile. “Stay here.” She kissed you again, lingering for a few moments longer than needed, before she turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone in this ridiculously old mansion.

With nothing else to keep yourself entertained, you did a slow lap around the room, eyeing the ironic blend of elegant antiques and silly trinkets that were so obviously Ellie. A cracked ivory trinket box sat on a shelf, intricate flowers engraved into the lid, set right next to a small figurine of an astronaut. Beautiful paintings lined the walls, signatures dating back to 1830 in elaborate script at the bottom, but there were also a few posters littered here and there - bands and video games.

You walked over to the mantle, your fingers grazing over the marble top. The logs inside were untouched, and you briefly wondered if she’d light a fire soon to chase out the chill of autumn. A small jar filled with guitar picks sat at the corner, and you wondered if she really did have an electric guitar collection hidden around here somewhere. Your foot kicked an empty dog bowl, and yet Riley was nowhere to be found. Maybe Ellie took her to daycare when she knew she’d bring a girl home. You nearly laughed at the idea.

Atop the mantle, hidden behind pictures of what must have been friends or family - hiking or traveling or laughing in somebody’s backyard - there was another picture frame. It must have fallen, face down so that the picture inside was covered. You reached out, careful to not disturb any of the other frames, and picked it up. You were just going to fix it, set it up next to the others, but something in the image caught your eye. You plucked it from its home, bringing it closer, holding it up to the light to get a better look. For a long time, you couldn’t figure out what you were looking at. Your heart hammered against your chest, your ears ringing, as though your body had figured it out before your brain did.

It was an old photograph, grainy and sepia, faded and frayed around the edges with age. It was the house, looking just like it did today - the huge windows shining in the sunlight, the intricate eaves and wrap-around porch perfectly polished and new. A family stood on the lawn in front of the house, looking awkward and stiff. Back then, cameras took several minutes to actually capture a photo, so people tended to look a little awkward from trying to hold the same expression for so long. But that’s not what had caught your eye.

It was a small family - a weary looking dad and his two daughters, looking just a few years younger than you.

She looked a little different. Her hair was longer, falling in waves around her shoulders. She was definitely a few years younger, and she wore a sweet, full-length gown instead of a worn leather jacket.

You checked the date in the bottom corner at least five times, but there was no mistaking it. The person in the photo was undeniably Ellie, standing in front of this house in 1816.

tag list: @macaroni676 @ellstronaut @elliewilliamsmiller0 @elliescoolerwife @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @peejayurple @liliflowers-blog @filtered-sunlight @hobbybound

#ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie willams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x you #tlou smut #tlou 2 x reader #i hope y'all like this one cause i got a lot of plans for it

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ceilidho · 1 year ago

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Best friend Johnny who's first instinct when you get a boyfriend is to go down on you/finger you till you're squirmy and crying. Maybe edges you until you agree to break up with the guy.

and if he's TOXIC sends a small video of himself going down on reader or fingering her open. Most of reader is strategically covered by either johnnys hands (or mouth lmao) but based on her voice and Johnny's 'she was mine first' message - the now ex figures it out lmao.

oh I'm screaming at this, anon

Best friend Johnny who finds out that you have a boyfriend (maybe you only just started dating or just made it official or something) and it flips a switch in him.

He's been passively interested in you for awhile now, but because you rarely date, he'd been lazy about it. Content to tease you and leave you on edge, making you sit in his lap when you'd go out with friends, talking on the phone until you fall asleep, licking sauce off the corner of your mouth like the gross degenerate that he is instead of using a napkin - anything to get you worked up and squirming in your chair.

Didn't think he'd have to rush into a relationship or sleeping together just yet because the chase is half the fun for him.

He didn't think you'd actually be desperate enough to go out on a date with someone else, never mind get a boyfriend. At first he feels a bit betrayed, maybe even panicked. You aren't dating but it feels a bit like you're replacing him with another guy. Another man who doesn't feel an iota of what Johnny feels for you, who's only there because Johnny's been taking his sweet time instead of locking you down.

It's okay though; he won't make the same mistake twice.

I have a recurring terrible daydream of you losing your job and Johnny manipulating you into doing porn with him :(( and he promises that no one else will see - it'll just be a couple amateur videos that you'll hide behind a paywall and once you've saved up a nice little nest egg, that'll be it. Except he doesn't make a huge effort to hide your faces from the camera or keep himself from saying your name. In fact, he spends a lot of time filming the two of you just making out, always sloppy and heated.

And he wants to film every single day! It doesn't feel like a proper job where there's a separation between work life and personal life. When you aren't filming, he still wants to 'practice' - eating you out in the back of his car after going to the movies, making you blow him on the couch after you come back from a date. Monopolizing so much of your time that you barely have the energy to go out with your actual boyfriend. But when he makes you sit on his cock while you look over how much you made that month, you can't deny how nice it is to not feel stressed about your finances for a change.

It's horrifically embarrassing the day your boyfriend stumbles across one of your videos, but Johnny's the best at comforting you when you come crying to him. Says all the right things. Has every argument in the world about why it wasn't cheating. Gets mad at your ex on your behalf for scrolling through porn accounts in the first place. He says all of this while not so subtly ushering you into your bedroom.

#cod mw2 #ceil writing #cod x reader #soap mw2 #soap mactavish #soap call of duty #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #soap x you #soap/reader

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cruisingforcruiserweights · 2 months ago

Text

okay so here is the post about the fuckshit I witnessed at the final night of eurotour 24 (Amsterdam 2), I've already heard about the nonsense being pulled by people in the first and second rows at barricade, but I wasn't able to queue that early so imagine I'm around the first quarter of the way back from the stage, maybe row 7/8?

a couple of mid-40's parents (I didn't say the age to discriminate, just to point out that they should know better) decided that they would run the middle of the room like their own personal kingdom, with themselves and their incredibly mouthy teenage daughters screaming and cussing out anyone who even dared brush up against them. and I mean not try and move past or shove them, merely BRUSH AGAINST THEIR ARMS.

at one point, around 10 minutes before the show was about to start, the teenage daughters decided it was a genius idea to SIT in the middle of the room and play with their phones. this resulted in a woman who was trying to make her way through the crowd to bring drinks back to her boyfriend tripping over one of them as she tried to move through the crowd, because guess what!!! if you're sitting on the ground surrounded by people, in the dark, no one can see you there!!! and although she apologised, the whole family then proceeded to go off on her, screaming and bellowing insults at her.

this behaviour continued through the ENTIRE show. anytime the crowd moved due to dancing, bouncing, normal stuff that happens at a gig that resulted in one of said family members being touched, said person would get screamed at, and I would ended up looking over my shoulder every time to just see the father and mother going off on someone who had clearly not meant it and was trying to apologise (even though they had likely been pushed along with the crowd themselves).

the worst incident came when, I can't remember what song it was in the middle of unfortunately, a woman was moving through the crowd for whatever reason and bumped into one of them, I can't remember if it was into the man or one of the girls, but the father decided that the appropriate response was to get up in that woman's face and bellow and physically THREATEN TO PUNCH HER with his fist centimetres away from her face while she was PROFUSELY apologising and trying to explain that she had been bumped by someone next to her and hadn't meant to shove anyone.

now I'm fucking sorry, but have you never gone to a fucking gig before?? the crowd MOVES. people dance, people jump, people move. it is 100% expected that you are going to end up being touched to some degree, often completely by accident because that's what happens when large amounts of people are together to see MUSIC. not ONCE did I witness anyone trying to shove past this family or cut in line or ANYTHING that would justify this appalling behaviour, if anything people were giving them a WIDE fucking berth once they'd witnessed their bad tempers the first few times, in fact from what I experienced this was probably the gig where I've had my personal space respected THE MOST in my life, I'm so used to being crushed against the people next to me, I could practically do yoga in all the space I had to myself lmao.

but apparently that wasn't enough for these people .

I'm conflicted about bringing your children to a high energy gig, if I'm honest. it just doesn't seem responsible to me. but if you absolutely MUST, if youre so fucking territorial about the prospect of your precious angels getting bumped into, why would you not take them up to the balcony?? I saw parents with kids up there having a great time! you get a great view and they're perfectly safe the whole time!! and why would you let them SIT ON THE FUCKING GROUND IN THE DARK so someone walking through the crowd can trip over them?? jesus christ!!

it was the fact that the man and woman seemed to think that towering over a much smaller woman, barking in her face and threatening to PHYSICALLY ASSAULT her was also appropriate behaviour to display in front of said children too. I could already see the girls taking after their parents with the way they also screamed and pushed people every time they dared come too close, and I know they're just teenagers and I shouldn't judge them because it's obvious where they learned that behaviour, but jesus christ was I happy when the trafik moshpit started to form DIRECTLY AROUND THEM and they were forced to move to the side or risk being in the center of it. can't deny I got a kick out of that.

what truly shocked me honestly was the idea that these people came to a KÄÄRIJÄ gig, were supposedly kä FANS, and you behave LIKE THAT? jere is such a caring, sweet person who showed nothing but love and appreciation for everyone who came, who talked profusely about how important it was that everyone had a good time, and laid down safety rules for the pit too and seemed genuinely concerned that no one got hurt in the process... and these people apparently thought that none of that applied to them. as far as they were concerned, this was THEIR concert.

honestly fuck those trashy people, and fuck their nasty kids. i hope they spent the entirety of trafik getting bounced around like pinballs and seething the entire time.

#käärijä #kaarija #eurotour 24 #jae speaks

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k-tarotz · 1 year ago

Note

Could you please make a post on how sunghoon would act around his crush??💖💖💖💖💖

Thank you for your request lovely, Also thank you for your patience it was quite busy around Christmas and new years but now I have energy to continue the "how does x act around their crush" series! 🩵

Temperance, 6 of wands, 2 of cups

How Sunghoon would act around his crush:

First of all loyal! Like you know how some people are like "it's just a crush, I can still look at other people or even go on dates with others" that's like the exact opposite from sunghoon- (nothing against those people though!) Like this boy is committed even to his crush, without his crush even knowing that hoon has a crush on them, it's just in his nature. There is also high potential that Sunghoon didn't had many crushes yet, since he was pretty busy already since his childhood pretty much. But yes he is the kind of boy to have eyes only for his crush and no one else, his mind being with his crush the whole time too. Daily thoughts of his crush is nothing new to him, it might be a bit frustrating even

Jelly! He sees his crush linking arms with someone? (even if it's just a friend) boy would be incredibly jelly and sad and annoyed like a small little roller-coaster of bad emotions would go on. He would try to hide it the best way possible though, he doesn't want his crush to know and especially not to find out through his jealousy. But he would be quite often jealous, even little things like his crush eating dinner with someone else or even calling with a friend on their phone - he might subconsciously even pout and think "it should be me! I can treat them better!" (Shawn Mendes has such a song I think, this fits sunghoon so well lmao-)

Clingy! Yet try not to be, or at least hold it back if he doesn't know this person for long yet. But things like trying to read his crush's messages while they are texting on their phone next to him. Trying to spend more time with his crush of course! If he has his crush's number he would text nearly everyday - and expect an answer the same day of course, checking up on his crush is a must. He would physically be Clingy too but only if his crush is close to him, like if they never hugged before yet he won't just hug them out of nowhere, but if they already know each other well and already had (Innocent) physical contact then he would try to do more or at least for longer. Definitely holding hands, hugging and an arm around them. Maybe secretly smelling his crush's hair also! Sunghoon is definitely into physical affection, just with the right person, probably isn't into pda though

Insecure/Anxious unfortunately he would have self doubts about himself (even though he is literally such a nice person and handsome) like "maybe I'm not handsome enough for them" or get Insecure about simple things like a small pimple or an angle that could possibly make him look bad ect but also things like "wait hold up do I have something between my teeth?" Like he would quickly check up on things like that with a mirror before going to his crush and talking to them

Shy! He can try to hide it but would he success? Not really! If you pay close attention to him you can see him slightly blushing at times, he also giggles/laughs when he gets shy. He will get shy quite easily around his crush like they stroke their hair behind their ear while laughing at Sunghoon's joke? Boy would blush and giggle and be over the moon! Like legit it doesn't take him much to get shy!

Proud! Now Sunghoon is someone who will feel proud and acknowledged if he gets praised for things! By things I don't mean his looks, because that's not really something he did you know? He would get Proud if he gets praised for example for singing nicely, or for dancing good, or if he for example builds up something all by himself, if he cooks/bakes! He would genuinely feel so warm and loved by that, could subconsciously make his crush bigger

Feeling safe! Since sunghoon had quite a lot of responsibilities to carry on his shoulders for a looong time he would love it if he can just feel safe around his crush with no responsibilities tied to it, he could possibly prefer someone older than him by a few years because he seems to have the mentality of "Oh if they are younger than me then I have to take care of them" like you know? Especially since he is a big brother he is used to that feeling, so there is just thar potential of this preference. Aside from wanting to feel safe like that, he would love to make his crush feel safe around him too! Which brings us to the next chapter...

Trustworthy! Sunghoon is genuinely someone very trustworthy like you tell him a secret and he won't tell anyone else! He will keep everything private that should stay private! His friends, family and crush can trust him if he says something he will do it and stick to it. He is also not someone who would play with anyone's feelings at all, you can trust him with your heart and everything, he will also stick to all his promises!

Honest! You know those people who like.. sometimes lie or exaggerate stories that they tell to their crush or even friends to impress them? That's also the opposite of Sunghoon, he is humble and honest he will try to impress his crush for example by telling how many medals he won but its not to brag but literally yelling his story and hoping it's enough to impress. Of course he would be very honest in general with his crush! He would want the same honesty back as that and being loyal is very important to him

Humble! So as already mentioned he would be humble, like he already is but around his crush even more! Especially if his crush isn't in the same industry as him like if they aren't a public person at all, he would never say anything like "I'm an idol and you are just (..)" at all. He would always look at his crush as equal even if they don't have the same job at all. He would never put his crush down on purpose, not for anything in this world

Caring! If he notices that it's getting colder he would give his crush those small heatpacks that you can carry in your pockets, he would tell them to not catch a cold and he would even go out of his way and buy a scarf for his crush, gently wrapping it around their neck. He would be caring in many many more ways, this was just one example! He would genuinely care about his crush, their health, their feelings and more, always watching out for his crush

Secret Admirer! Alright so this one would especially happen if his crush and him aren't that close yet, but also some of those still after they are close. He would definitely watch his crush sometimes without speaking because he might be too shy or anxious at the moment, regardless watching his crush would make him happy. He would be the type to buy small presents and leave them at his crush's thingy wherever they can have access to it, but no no no not just random or simple presents like flowers or chocolate no! You know how you once mentioned months ago that you liked this one perfume and try to save up for it? Guess what he got... yes that perfume! Sunghoon is someone who pays attention to his beloved ones and he has a good memory, so he will remember such things and get them when the time is right (example: his crush's birthday, valentines day or any other important holiday but it can also be on a random day just not too close after they told him so it's not too obvious it's from him) and ge genuinely enjoys spoiling his beloved ones. He would possibly leave small sweet notes with them like "you are amazing "

Playful! Especially with jokes like he would try his best to make his crush laugh, especially with puns! He would feel so proud and good about himself if he succeeds and he would enjoy making his crush laugh! He would try not to overdue it with his jokes but also remember the ones that made his crush laugh so he can say similar ones. Laughing together with his crush would be the perfect bonding!

Nicknames! Sunghoon is someone who is quite into Nicknames so he would love to be called nicknames from his crush. His favorite nicknames are "Hyung, baby, oppa" (jay is older than sunghoon but sunghoon made him call him hyung and genuinely enjoyed that, so he might also like it if his crush calls him hyung/oppa even/especially in case they are older than sunghoon, it depends on his mood though) like he often says "I'm not a baby" but secretly he likes it, especially when his feminine side is out more - in one of his current lives he also said "you can call me whatever you want if you say I'm cute, cool or sexy.. I like it either way" so it all really depends on his mood a bit but in general he really loves nicknames and is fine with multiple ones, different kinds - especially if his crush is close to him!

Respectful! You know how some people just can't accept a no and especially not a rejection? Opposite from sunghoon again. If sunghoon ever decides to confess to his crush, it could take months or longer because he is someone with lots anxiety, and his crush rejects him then of course he will be sad and heartbroken but he would accept it and not try any further. Sunghoon is one of the most respectful idols we ever saw and on top of that we don't think ge would try to chase after anyone, especially if they make it clear that they have no feelings for him at all. He would still think about his crush, but regardless try his best to move on, not trying to make any moves on them at all. He might avoid his crush until enough time has passed because he would need time to heal

Thank you everyone for reading this, possibly liking, commenting or reblogging this! ♡ it takes time and energy to write those kinda readings as I try to be quite detailed with those so it might take a bit until I answer the next request of this series - regardless its also very fun to do so feel free to request this with whoever you want and I will answer once I recharged my energy! Thank you everyone!

- Hun

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cheeseceli · 1 year ago

Text

It's okay

Pairing: I.N × Gn!Reader.

Genre: hurt/comfort.

Summary: you feel like everything is falling apart, but your boyfriend is there to hold you close.

Warning: mention of blood; mention of food; Y/n is pretty much in a breakdown; not proofread; some cursing.

Author's note: this happened to me but I had no i.n with me lmao😔 hope this might bring comfort to anyone who needs it

"Y/n?"

The voice of your boyfriend woke you up from the confusion that was in your mind as soon as you heard him, noticing the worried expression his features had.

"What?"

"You've been staring at this glass for a while now. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah" you started drinking from your glass of water, avoiding any other question. The cubes of ice had already melted "everything's alright."

"Okay then. Uh... do you want to order food? We can eat that guioza that you've been dying to try. Or we can just have the usual."

"Just order whatever you'd like."

You stood up and went to the kitchen, feeling guilty for treating Jeongin so cold-heartedly when he clearly was worried about you. But you really, really didn't have the energy to talk in the moment. And even if you did, you doubt anything good could get out of your mouth right now. So you were going to wait.

Wait until your problems disappeared, or until you were brave enough to face them. Whatever came first. But honestly, you didn't expect that any of the previous options would actually happen. You were just waiting for everything to get worse and dry you out. Those last days couldn't have gone worse and now you're just playing this game where you try to guess what horrible thing will follow in the list of disasters in your life. Maybe someone steals your phone tomorrow. Or you can break an arm before going to bed tonight. Maybe your university catches fire, your boyfriend breaks up with you and you receive a call from your parents telling you you're a dishonor. The possibilities are infinite.

Whatever the case is, you just feel something bad will happen, as apparently you have no control over your life anymore. Nothing happens as you plan it, it doesn't matter how hard you try. In the end, you can't stop unpleasant situations in your life, like letting the glass slip from your hands. Very next thing you know is the pain in your foot as the glass shatters next to it.

"Y/n? What was that sound?"

"Nothing"" you tried to keep calm and not involve I.N in your mess, even though you knew it wouldn't work. Not a second passed by and you could hear his footsteps coming closer.

"Oh shit."

"It's okay, I'll clean it."

"No, Y/n, stop. You are barefoot and already bleeding."

"It's just a small cut."

"Still a cut. C'mon."

You didn't quite understand at the moment, but when he searched for the nearest pair of shoes available to wear and took you in his arms you got it: he was bringing you brided style to the bathroom.

"You're overreacting."

"Just sit down, please." He placed you in the sink and started an inspection on your cut, analysing how bad it could be "does it hurt a lot?"

"No. I told you it's just a small cut."

"It's not that small baby. What's going on?"

He was focused on cleaning your wound and didn't really look at your face, but you knew he was paying attention to every small movement of yours. You could see he was trying to help you. For a second, you really wanted to be helped.

"Was it really that obvious that something's wrong?"

"It's the second glass that you break this week. Besides I know you well."

"Sorry 'bout that by the way."

"I don't care about a glass, Y/n. I just want you well. Can you tell me what's bothering you?"

"It's just..." now his eyes were on you, and you could notice how much he truly cared about you. Funny how just his eyes could lift a lot of weight out of your shoulders "I don't know, everything's seems wrong. My backpack ripped in the subway, my friends love to say shit about me as if it's the funniest joke ever, my family's dog is sick, I didn't have a proper meal for more than a week and this is a never ending list. I know I must be being dramatic as hell right now, but to be fair, I feel like I'm on the edge of a breakdown."

"Baby" I.N dried one of your tears with his thumb. You didn't even notice you started crying "it's okay to feel like that. You're not being dramatic at all. After such a hell of a week you deserve to let your feelings out. What about I cancel that order, I cook your favourite to you and we sew your bag later?"

You have him a small smile, glad you had someone so great by your side, someone who knew how to be there for you "I'd like that very much."

He smiled as well "Great."

Jeongin stood up so he'd be able to give you a proper hug. Your boyfriend wasn't the touchy type usually, but he was really great at giving hugs, so whenever a moment like this happened, you tried to savour every minute.

"We can go to your parents' house tomorrow if you'd like. Maybe your dog will get better by your side."

"It's a three hours drive."

"I'm a good driver."

You smiled, hugging him tighter and pressing your face into his chest "thank you."

Reblogs and feedback is always appreciated!

Dividers by @cafekitsune

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slay00ryu · 2 months ago

Note

HEAR ME OUT

ronin with a transmasc partner who is basically his little sidekick man. Goes together with him perfectly, both are bastard men who play games. He’s also super sappy (kinda in a luca way lmao) with ronin but HE MATCHES HIS FREAK (the freak is The Horrors™️)

THANK UOU HDHDHDHDG -mothgutzz

The Devil's Hyper Man

Ronin x transmasc!reader

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ﮩ෴ﮩ__

You and Ronin have always been a chaotic duo, even before you entered a romantic relationship. The chaos he brought into you life was something you could give back to him with a similar energy. Every time he shared his new kill you would react with a bunch of emotes and send a chaotic message like 'Yes bro you've got'em!"

Whenever you were in chat with the other server members Angel would refer to you as "a little less bad shit crazy Ronin" and you wore that title like a batch of honour.

If one of you was somewhere the other followed, it was mostly you walking around Ronin like a good ol' dog. It escalated when the two of you started dating. Ronin is at work? You're there too just to sit in the workshop and pass him some tools. You're in voice call? He joins and keeps your attention on him. Sometimes the server found it annoying, but neither of you gave a damn about that. You just wanted each others company.

You followed Ronin even for his kills, and you would play mind games with the victims, you were almost as fucked up as your boyfriend after all. And how would Ronin react for your little games with his victims? Well, in his original way. "Oh, I'm so fucking proud to have you as my boyfriend." "You really went all out babe, never thought you had it in you, heh." Yeah, he's a proud boyfriend and praises you for fucking with people's minds.

Whenever you may experience a bad dysphoria day Ronin is there for you, he knows how it feels so it's only natural for him to show his support. He will reassure you about how handsome you are, and how perfect your grotesqueness is. "If you want we can destroy something, just say the word and my crowbar is ready." He whispers while the two of you lay on the floor and he rubs the back of your hand.

Ronin isn't a person to show a lot of emotions, but when the two of you have a dysphoric day at the same time, he will cuddle up with you and both of you will whisper reassuring things to each other.

You're definitely a sappy lover, you brag about Ronin on the server, talk mostly to him, suck up to him like you're glued to him. You will kiss him and cuddle up to him a lot. And he will enjoy the contact because he's just so touch starved.

At this point you two could rival with Luca and Feli for the title of the most disgustingly sickly sappy relationship on the server, you and Luca especially take that fight very seriously. "No, Feli is the bets partner dude. She's just so pretty and great, You and Ronin don't compare to us." "Nah, Ronin and I are so much better, at least we didn't need help to break our talking stage." You and Luca argue in the vc while Feli tries to fight the embarrassment and Ronin is amused by this situation.

Some scenarios <3

You were sitting on the cold ground in the workshop Ronin works in. You were curled up in his hoodie. Some times you would move to give him a tool. You enjoyed this time with him, he was working and humming a song while you were scrolling through your phone or sometimes demand kisses in exchange for a tool.

"You're just so eager for my touch, aren't you?" He titled his head to the side and chuckled. Ronin crouched and caught your lips in a soft and quick kiss. "Happy?" He asked with a smirk.

"Yeah, drop that shit-grin you loser." You replied and passed him the tool.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ﮩ෴ﮩ__

You were standing in the shadows of purgetory, Ronin just killed a guy. His whole hands were covered in blood, which was splattered everywhere. He turned to look at you and there was that wicked glint in his eye.

"Do you like the view darlin'?" He asked and approached you.

"Yeah, you're amazing when you end those fuckers." You moved your thumb along his cheek to wipe the blood from there.

"Aw, and you're such a good supporter baby." He kissed you on the forehead. "Let's get the fuck outta here." You took his hand and the two of you left the scene.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ﮩ෴ﮩ__

Ronin looked at you as you were walking alongside him and yapping about your day, he smirked. You were just so talkative, your mouth never shut up, but he liked it. It was never quiet with you around and he sometimes had to be more creative with his snarky remarks if he wanted to be beat you at your own game.

"Are you even listening to me?" You asked and he shrugged.

"Yeah, it's hard not to listen when you're talking all the time." He smirked.

"Wow Ronin, you're so nice." You rolled you eyes and continued talking like nothing happened.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ﮩ෴ﮩ__

Hope you liked this my friends ;p

See ya folks

-N :)

#killer chat #killer chat ronin #transmasc #fluff #headcanon #scenerios #fanfic #ronin beaufort #ronin killer chat

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httpiastri · 7 months ago

Text

PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER TWO (JEDDAH)

genre: angst, fluff, comfort, etc.

word count: 6k

warnings: hmmm nothing except heartbreak in several scenes lol

author's note: guys im really sorry but im pretty mean to paul here..... like it got to the point where i rewatched jeddah videos of him and physically felt ill because i was mad at him LMAO 😭 but we'll get through this together!! this was supposed to include some other scenes but it was long enough as it was sooo 😶 summary for this chapter ig is yn feels very torn between her boys, and so do i. hope everyone has a good week (it's finally race week again aaaaa) !! 💗

also i think the next chapter might be shorter because i just wanna get it out already and i don't have a lot to write about in it hehe, fingers crossed that i can finish it soon<3

(alsoooo i proofread this a few days ago but i just cant find the energy or time to do it rn, praying that there are no big issues…. if there are, i would be so thankful if you could send me an ask or message etc 🙏)

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"i still can't believe i missed out on the top ten again. and by just three hundredths, even..."

pepe shakes his head as you both make your way out of the campos truck, dragging a frustrated hand through his hair before pulling on his red bull cap. you can't help but chuckle – he's been like this all day, and all evening yesterday. you understand it, though; finishing just outside the reverse grid pole once again must feel frustrating.

not that you can relate. with a much better qualifying session yesterday in your second-ever qualifying in formula 2, you managed to snatch an eight-place finish. in other words, you will be starting third in today's sprint race, and just the thought of the probability of getting some big points sends tingles through your entire body.

"you'll get it next time," you say with a pat on your friend's back. "i mean, look at ollie. from p-nowhere last week to pole yesterday. that can be you next time around."

you've just come out of your morning meeting – morning meaning starting at ten and ending around noon – and now you're finally getting some lunch in the red bull hospitality. even during a race weekend like this, with mostly evening and night sessions, you still managed to oversleep and almost didn't make it in time for your meeting. you didn't get to have any breakfast, you had to run all the way from the shuttle to the truck, and you even forgot one of your racing boots as well as your phone in your hotel room. thankfully, you'll still have time to go back to the hotel before the sprint race, but walking around without your phone feels like being naked.

"speaking of ollie," pepe starts as you turn left and head into the formula one paddock. "are things between you two... alright?"

your eyebrows furrow together at the pause in the middle of his sentence. "why wouldn't they be?"

"well, i..." he stops again, and it makes you want to shake him. "i heard something. but it doesn't matter."

"who are you to decide that it doesn't matter?" you scoff. "tell me."

pepe sighs – he knows fighting you over this is a losing battle. you're way too stubborn to let go of this. "i heard that you were having issues. that you aren't happy, or something along those lines..."

you stop in your tracks, brain working in overdrive to comprehend what your friend is telling you. not happy with ollie? why would you not be happy with him? "who told you this?"

pepe stops in front of you. "i heard it from kimi, who heard it from... paul."

"what?" your eyes squeeze shut as your hands interlace on top of your head. "why would kimi come to you? instead of asking ollie himself?"

"you know kimi," pepe starts instantly. "he's young and gullible. i think he wanted to go for the see-if-the-best-friend-knows-anything strategy instead of asking ollie straight out." his hands squeeze your shoulders softly and you look up at him, a hint of a pout on your lips. "i guess he was scared that ollie would get mad at him or something."

"it's just-" you sigh. "it doesn't make any sense, does it?" pepe is just about to say something more when you cut him off with a dismissive swat of your hand in the air, stepping away from him and continuing your walk down the paddock. "let's just forget about it. i need lunch."

pepe stands frozen for a few moments before hurrying up to you again. he can't quite read your mood – you look unbothered, but he can't help but notice the slight touch of redness of your ears and the way your eyes seemingly can't focus on one thing for long enough. there's no way you can be over it already.

with pepe shutting up for a little while for the first time ever, you're left all alone with your thoughts as you continue your stroll. you know you should've asked for more information; you should've asked for details, for exactly what kimi said and how he worded it. you probably should also ask kimi himself for what paul told him. but right now, it's like a shadow is clouding your vision.

how dare paul say something like that? he must've known that the rumors he made up would spread like wildfire, as they always do in the formula paddocks. the snowball effect can make something tiny become huge, which is why you're always cautious about rumors. but apparently, paul doesn't care about that.

you're far too enraged to think even straight, and that's why it takes pepe pulling your arm to make you stop walking. you frown – to be fair, your frown hasn't left since it appeared a few minutes ago – but when you realize what it is that he's pointing at, both your frown and your jaw drop.

there's a swarm of journalists and fans following a ferrari driver down the road in front of you, which isn't all that uncommon. both charles and carlos are always incredibly popular. but what blows your mind is the fact that when you finally catch a glimpse of the driver's face, it's neither of the team's main drivers.

it's ollie.

"ollie! mate!" pepe yells, his arm waving erratically over his head. it takes a moment for the brit to find the owner of the voice, but he's tall enough to look over everyone else, and he's soon making his way over to you both. "i know you're popular, but this all seems a little excessive, don't you think?"

"i don't know what happened, as soon as the news came out..." ollie lets out a chuckle before turning to you, eyebrows raised at your expression. "i've called you like a hundred times, what have you been up to?"

"i left my phone at the hotel-" you begin but cut yourself off and shake your head. "wait, what news?"

when ollie starts speaking, time slows down. the entire world around you goes dark, the only thing you can hear being ollie's explanation of how carlos needs surgery and the call he got as he was having lunch. you feel lightheaded, almost like you could faint, when he speaks his final words. "...and they said i will be the one to replace him. i'm driving the formula one grand prix tomorrow."

you don't waste any time before throwing yourself into his arms, a loud squeal passing through your lips. "are you kidding me?" you exclaim, hugging him even tighter. "this is incredible, ollie! oh my god, i..."

"i can't really believe it myself, to be honest," ollie says, shaking his head as you part from the hug. pepe slaps his shoulder, congratulating his friend. "i would love to stay and chat, but i need to be in the car for the last practice, and i have a lot to get done-"

"go! go!" you usher, softly shoving him away back towards the journalists and fans who are still waiting just a few meters away. "we will talk later, okay?"

"of course."

and then you watch him leave – your boyfriend, the soon-to-be formula one driver – with a much lighter heart. this definitely helps you forget about all of the things regarding paul.

at least for a little while.

but of course, pepe stops your train of thought. "does that mean i get the reverse grid pole?"

you've never ever been to the ferrari garage before, so as you stand in the middle of it, you have no idea where to go or what to do; this is completely new territory. thankfully, you got a vip-pass from ollie before he ran off for his pre-practice duties, so at least you have the privilege of looking like a fool inside of the garage instead of right outside the doors.

a fool dressed in a red bull race suit, even. great.

you were in the middle of preparations for your sprint race when ollie texted you, and since you still had some time before the race started, you made it over to the other side of the paddock as quickly as you could. but unfortunately, that meant that you didn't have time to change your outfit into something more discreet.

"you don't look like you belong here, miss," a voice rumbles from behind you. your heart stops in your chest, and you're ready to improvise an excuse or find an escape route when you turn around – but luckily, you're met with chris, ollie's manager, standing there.

"thank god you're here," you say, letting out a sigh of relief. "do you happen to know where ollie is?"

"he's borrowing carlos's room. it's right down the hall and to the left."

you quickly thank him, turning again and making your way down said hallway. the room is easy to find, the two big, red fives on the door sticking out among the white walls. you're glad to find it unlocked, but you still knock a few times before sticking your head inside.

"sweetheart? can i come in?"

ollie is sitting on a massaging table, elbows on top of his legs and head resting in his hands. his eyes are stuck on the floor, but you take his silence as a yes.

"i got your text," you say, tiptoeing inside and shutting the door behind you, careful to not make any loud sounds to scare him. "how are you doing?"

when he still doesn't answer, your heat rate picks up. is something really wrong?

you make your way over to him, hands finding his cheeks and softly tilting him up to look at you – and you swear you've never seen him look this wrecked before.

not after his worst crashes, not when he lost the rookie championship last year. once again, you've entered completely new territory, and your heart breaks at the sight of him.

"ollie, talk to me," you plead, biting back the pout that starts to form on your lips. it's so painful to look into his eyes, but you can't back down. not now, not when he needs you this much.

"i'm-" his voice cracks but he shakes his head, clearing his throat. "i'm so nervous, i don't know what to do."

it's like he's oozing anxiety, and his heavy sigh is like a stab in your chest. ollie, your usually so calm and collected boyfriend, is probably going crazy over this – you know him well enough by now to understand that he's definitely freaking out even more on the inside than what he shows or tells. "i get that. one hundred percent. but," your thumbs begin to stroke over the skin of his cheeks, along his jaw, and then finally across his eyebrows, to which his eyes flutter closed. "this is your dream. it's been your dream since forever, and now you finally have the chance."

ollie sighs, but nods. you're getting to him.

"and it's not just any car, it's a ferrari. do you realize how cool that is? do you realize how many people would kill for an opportunity like this?" you smile at the sight of him with his eyes still shut, eyelashes resting atop his cheeks, messy fringe covering his forehead. even like this, at his most stressed state, he's completely gorgeous. "you would've killed for an opportunity like this just 24 hours ago."

"but what if i ruin it?" his voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, shoulders slumping forward. "what if i go out there and i'm shit, and then they realize what a big mistake they've done by even putting me in the academy? what if-"

"it won't happen." his eyelids slowly open and he looks up at you, seemingly not even the slightest upset that you cut him off. "you're too good to do that. you'll get in that car and it will feel like your second home, just like it always does."

finally, a small smile makes its way onto his lips. it's only been a few minutes since you came in, but he seems much more relaxed now, leaning into your touch completely. "i'll try my best to make you proud."

you pout. "i'll be proud even if you end up with a slower lap than your pole lap from yesterday."

a laugh bubbles from his chest and he stands up from the table, opening his arms wide and pulling you in for a tight hug. his heart is still beating louder than a drum in his chest when your ear is pressed up against it, and you're almost worried it will jump out any second. but his breaths are much more controlled now, and his mind seems much lighter.

he presses a long kiss to the crown of your head, arms squeezing you tight. "i really need to go, because the sprint starts in..." you shoot a quick glance to the clock on the wall. "forty-five minutes. my team is going to kill me. but go out there and show them, baby."

and that's exactly what he did.

though, that's not the only thing you were correct about; your team was indeed furious when you finally made it back to the campos garage. your main engineer, who was supposed to help you get strapped in and fix all of the last details with the car over fifteen minutes ago, was apparently so angry he left you to do everything yourself. it's not that you didn't know about your schedule; you just needed to be there for ollie before his big debut.

everything works out in the end, at least according to you, and you're soon settled in your car on the grid, waiting to go on your formation lap. however, you've barely gotten as much as a glance from anyone on your team. you can't help but press the button to activate your radio. "i'm really sorry, guys. i just... had to do something."

"hope it was worth it." the voice of one of your engineers booms through your earpieces instantly, the sternness in his tone sending a shiver down your spine. "we got a huge fine because you were so late to get into the car, so..."

another of your engineers speaks up. "let's focus on the race instead now. no need to fight."

maybe it was because you got to visit ollie right before the race, or maybe it was just starting third and having a good car. either way, the sprint race was one of your best races in a long time. not only did you pass richard verschoor starting one place ahead of you into turn one; you also overtook paul, who started from pole, before the end of the first lap and got to lead your first laps in formula two ever.

dennis came around to steal the lead from you, but just landing yourself a spot on the podium was enough for you to celebrate. when you scored a second-place finish where the guy in first place was one of your former academy members, it didn't really matter that the guy on the third step of the podium was your ex-boyfriend.

going through all media duties is always exhausting, but it's usually never as dreadful as it is today. sitting in that press conference, knowing that your boyfriend is starting his first ever formula one qualifying in just a few moments. you have to literally bite your tongue not to pull a valtteri bottas and ask the journalists how q1 is going.

when you're this busy, you don't really have any time to think about paul's rumors. though, something about it continues to loom in the back of your mind all evening. especially when he speaks in the press conference, despite how hard you try to not even look at him, and especially when he's asked about ollie.

as the press conference finally comes to an end, you're not the only one who wants to hurry out of there to watch the rest of the qualifying session. you and the rest of the podium trio find a big screen that's showcasing the session, and you all insist that you should stay and watch, despite the f2 staff members' continuous attempts to squeeze the last drops of content from you.

they keep stuffing their phones and cameras in your face, throwing all kinds of questions about ollie your way, but you refuse to budge. you won't let them ruin this moment for you.

you're sure they've gotten quite a lot of embarrassing pictures of you teary-eyed while admiring your boyfriend's results, though.

you follow the timing board like a hawk, but something breaks you out of your trance. "who are you watching?" your head snaps to the direction of the voice – the f2 instagram admin with her phone pointed to paul.

as if you all haven't been watching and chatting about ollie for the last ten minutes.

you try not to, you really do, but you can't help but roll your eyes at the sight of paul. he's trying to look all innocent, hugging his trophy to his chest as his big, blue eyes blink up at the screen in the distance. a year ago, you would've just thought he was adorable – but today, this frustrates you more than anything. "i'm watching my dear friend ollie," he starts, eyes finding the camera so easily.

dear friend, huh? a dear friend is someone you spread rumors about?

the next time he speaks up, you have to physically bite your tongue to not yell at him. "the guy who gave me one position on tomorrow's grid."

you turn your head away in pure disgust. how could he say something like that? is that the only thing he cares about, places in his starting grid for tomorrow's feature race? is he serious?

you want to escape, to just storm off and never speak to him again. but instead, you force yourself to take a deep breath and focus back on the thing you're here for. ollie is doing so well; when q2 ends and he has driven his last lap, he misses out on q3 by just over a hundredth of a second. he almost even manages to knock out the legendary lewis hamilton, his fellow countryman whom he's been following for as long as he can remember, in his first-ever qualifying session.

you've never been prouder.

"honestly, as long as i can just bring the car home without wrecking it completely, i'm satisfied."

you give ollie's hand a soft squeeze at his words, fingers intertwining as your hands rest on top of the hotel cafeteria table. your other hand lifts your sandwich to your mouth and you take a bite, chewing it down quickly before giving him a nod.

you know his statement is meant as a joke, but you know it's just as much of a truth as a lie. driving an actual ferrari f1 car is his biggest dream, and even just making an alright race probably is enough to make him happy. there's no pressure on him, no one is expecting him to perform a miracle or even score some points.

but at the same time, you know he would never be satisfied with himself if he "just" brought it home safely. ollie isn't like that; he's way too stubborn, too determined, too much of a sore loser. it's what makes him. no matter what he says, there's always going to be something inside of him telling him that he needs to do better.

"i think you'll score your first points today," you tell him with a shrug. "i can feel it."

"don't say that, we don't know anything yet."

a shake of your head in combination with that smile of yours is enough to make some hope spark in him. "well, you have the car for it," you start. "and you have the skills."

ollie stays silent, letting the distant chatter of the other hotel guests having their breakfast fill the air. the cafeteria is emptying out by now, but new faces have been dropping in for a long time now, most of them walking by to give ollie a pat on his shoulder or a quick "good luck, mate".

you put down the last of your sandwich, leaving it behind with the fruit rinds and other scraps on your plate. "but don't think too much," you hum, eyes softening as they land on his. he's trying to contain his worries and anxiety as much as he can, but the slight tilt of his eyebrows and the way his gaze tends to dart away every once in a while tells a different story. "it's just driving. it's just what you always do, no problem."

you hold your glass of orange juice up to him and he gets the hint, clinging his own glass to yours before downing the last of its contents.

you're just about to speak up again with new words of affection, but an icy feeling spreads through your body at the sight of paul entering the cafeteria. the feeling soon turns into real nausea, and you can't even remember what you were supposed to say when you realize that he's making his way towards the two of you.

you want nothing more than to stay and keep encouraging ollie, but you can't take it at this moment. you stand up from your seat, giving ollie's fingers one last squeeze. "i forgot that i have a meeting soon," you make up. "so i need to go. i'll come see you before the race, okay?"

he doesn't even get to say bye before you've stormed off.

unfortunately, you have to pass paul in order to make it to the exit, but you make no effort to even recognize that he exists. you keep your gaze straight ahead.

karl, paul's physio, does a quick greeting from you though – as well as a confused look at the candle pressed into a pastry in one of the hotel's yogurt bowls – but then, you're off to hide in your hotel room until you're needed at the track for race preparations.

of course paul had to come by and ruin everything yet again.

with a good race from yesterday in the bag, you thought you could keep the momentum into today. however, that didn't turn out to be the case.

when a trident driver hit you from behind in the first lap, you lost a few positions instantly and after that, it was a bit too tough to recover. you had opportunities for overtakes, and the car was good enough to go through with them, but you never could. you kept slipping up, making rookie mistakes, and falling back even further. it even got to the point where your team came on the radio to remind you to focus on the road.

but no matter how hard you tried, it wouldn't work. the entire race, something else clouded your mind.

or, more specifically, someone.

every time you even caught a glimpse of paul's silver car, it was like something in your mind short-circuited. the memory of your conversation with pepe, the thought about paul running around and spreading rumors about you in the paddock… you couldn't push the thoughts, or the anger, away.

other times, back in the day, you were always good at turning your anger into something positive for your races. if you were upset with your father for something he said about red bull or the junior program, you went out there and proved him wrong. if you heard that another driver had complained about how you just got your seat because you were a girl, you made sure to dominate the race.

your stubbornness was always your biggest strength. but today, it was like your tank had run out. as much as you wanted to completely crush paul, you didn't have the capability.

at least paul didn't have that good of a race, either.

the second you get out of your car, you storm off towards your garage. you know you'll probably get a lot of shit for your performance your entire debrief, but if you can at least get over with it sooner, then you can forget about it and refocus on the next race weekend. plus, you really want to catch ollie before he's away for his f1 debut.

thankfully, you're not the only one getting criticized during the debrief; the team is not very happy with pepe's start, nor his DNF. after they've gone on and on about how costly this weekend has been for the team for an hour, you're finally released, but not without one last reminder to "think about what you're doing here and whose time you're wasting".

it's natural to lose all energy and confidence after a race like this. but the second you're back in ollie's arms, it's like the world around you just disappears. he's always been the best at keeping you grounded.

you've probably never hugged him this tightly before, but you can't help it. the second your arms wrap around his neck, you pour everything you have into the embrace.

he looks so good, so handsome and professional dressed up in his ferrari race suit. not just his prema suit with the ferrari logo on it, but an actual ferrari outfit. he looks like a real f1 driver – and the realization that he indeed is a formula one driver now brings tears to your eyes.

"hey," he says around a chuckle. "don't cry on me, woman."

"i won't..." you reach up to wipe away a drop from the corner of your eye as you pull away slightly from his embrace, shaking your head. "i won't. i'm just so proud of you."

"why are you so sappy?" the scene in front of him brings a huge grin to ollie's lips – he finds you equal parts adorable and hilarious. "i'm just going out there to drive a car. no biggie."

"no biggie," you repeat with a scoff, dabbing your other eye quickly before doing your best to blink down your other tears. earlier today, you were the one saying all of this was no problem. and yet, now he is the one who has to convince you of it. "right. it's just your passion, the thing you love. but i'm still proud."

an engineer catches ollie's attention above your head, sending him a certain look that has your boyfriend nodding before giving you one last squeeze. "i think i should-"

"of course, go," you usher him, retracting from his arms. "i'll be here after, no matter what happens." he nods, and he's about to leave when you speak up one last time. "have fun, okay?"

"always."

who would've imagined that ollie would not only score points in his first ever f1 race, but also win driver of the day, have the most overtakes, and score a seventh place as the second best british driver of the race?

well, you had imagined everything from him coming last to winning the race by horse lengths. and yet, this was all so unexpected. if someone had told you on wednesday that ollie would score six f1 points three days later, you would've laughed in their face. but now, it feels like it's been a long time coming.

you weren't allowed to stay in the ferrari garage for the actual race – it would've been a pr nightmare for everyone involved – so your nerves were all over the place since you weren't able to hear ollie's radio messages, info about the strategies, and so on. at least you get to wait right outside the garage with jamie, chris and his dad david, being the first to congratulate him after such a good debut race.

he looks completely worn out when he finally walks out through the door, but you can almost feel the pride and happiness radiating from him. his sweaty hair rests messily on top of his head, and an ice vest is draped over his body already to cool him down from the insane heat. and, most importantly, the smile on his lips is bigger than it's been all week.

ollie looks like he doesn't ever want to let go of his dad's hug, his face nuzzled in the crook of david's neck for a long time. you can only guess what things the father is whispering in his son's ear, but when the result is ollie pulling him even closer, your heart expands in your chest.

when they part, it's jamie's and chris's times to congratulate the point-scorer, and when he pulls away from his manager's arms, his eyes land on you. you're pulled into his embrace in just a second, a giggle slipping past your lips when he lifts you up into the air and spins you both around. his strong grip around you never eases, not when he sets you down on your feet again and not when he starts speaking.

"i knew it would be hard, but..." he shakes his head, a sweaty fringe brushing against the side of your head. "my entire body is ruined. like, it doesn't hurt because i have so much adrenaline, but i'm going to be in so much pain later. my neck and my shoulders and-"

another one of your waves of laughter cut off his ramblings, and he joins in once he realizes what he's been doing. when you finally pull apart slightly and your hands come up to cup his cheeks, you're just staring into his eyes for what feels like forever.

your boy, the f1 driver.

"this is from your mum," you whisper to him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "and this is from your sister." a kiss to his other cheek. "and... this is from me."

ollie has to crouch down slightly because even when you get onto your tippy toes, you can't reach all the way up to his forehead. but once you press your lips against his skin, all of the hidden tension in his eyebrows disappears. he's like putty under your touch.

"i'm so proud."

ollie's groans are muffled by the pillow his face is pressed into, head twitching when your thumbs press into some tense areas of his neck. you shush him jokingly, like a mother comforting a crying baby, but your movements never halt.

ever since he got out of that car, he's been complaining about how sore he is. especially his neck and shoulders, and all of the muscles that were most affected by the g forces. you don't blame him, however – he's got a free pass for pretty much everything for the next week, you think – but you decided to be a nice girlfriend and help him out. the strings of whines and swearwords he keeps letting out don't seem to be stopping anytime soon, though.

the lotion on your hands is enough for you to be able to glide your fingers across his upper back, along his shoulder blades, all over his freckled skin. as you're straddling his lower back, you can reach pretty much all angles of his upper body, and the knots in his muscles seem to be disappearing despite how painful your massage seems to be.

eventually, ollie tilts his head to the side, his blushed cheeks decorated with lines from the pillow underneath him. his slight pout is on full display and his tired eyes flutter closed as he speaks. "hey, y/n?"

"yes, ollie?" you reply, your thumb pressing into one especially stubborn knot in his right shoulder. ollie stays quiet for a few moments and takes a deep breath, almost as if he's gathering courage for something.

"you know that i love you right?"

the world around you stops.

everything freezes.

he loves me?

your breath hitches in your throat at the words. it's the first time he's ever said them, and though it's not the most uncommon thing for someone to tell their girlfriend of over six months, they make your head spin.

a mishmash of thoughts clouds your mind. they won't shut up for even a second. but the loudest thought is the only one you shouldn't have; it's about the only person you can't be thinking about right now.

the way that your mind instantly wanders off to paul is frankly embarrassing, but you can't help it. he's the first boy you've ever loved, the first person you've ever uttered those three words to. the only one. and no matter how badly you wish you could just forget about that and move on, he's still a part of you. he's your only real experience of love.

and this just isn't the same.

you want to say it back to ollie, you truly do. but at the same time, you don't want to say it if it isn't true – it's not fair to him.

ollie senses that something is up. your signs aren't exactly subtle, anyway; your movements have stopped completely and he can't even hear you breathing anymore. "hey, i'm sorry-"

"don't apologize," you interject instantly, shaking your head as you start to climb off his body. "you did nothing wrong. i'm the one who's sorry."

"stop that, you shouldn't be." he turns around, staring up at you with those big, brown eyes of his. "i don't expect you to say it back if you don't want to. i just..." he lets out a low sigh. "i wanted you to know, i guess."

you sit still for a few moments, before leaning down to place a kiss on his rosy cheek. "thank you." another pause. "it means a lot, you know?"

"well, you mean a lot to me."

and he does to you, too.

but is that enough?

ollie loves me.

he actually loves me.

he told me today after the race, and... i didn't say anything. i just sat there like a complete moron.

i couldn't say it back. i just don't feel what i felt for paul yet.

what's wrong with me?

why don't i race like i used to? why can't i control my emotions? was the sprint race yesterday just luck? did i really deserve that podium?

why does paul still affect me this much? why is he always there in my thoughts – when i'm racing, when i'm with ollie, when i try to sleep...

i have a perfect boyfriend and a great car, so why do i feel like everything is falling apart?

yourusername just posted!

yourusername p2 in the sprint 🥈 big thanks to the team for the hard work!! and i got to witness the rb p1-2 up close, congrats redbullracing 💙 also check slide 4 for an appearance from me and my former family on f1tv <3

show all 96 comments

user y/n and the prema staff during the driver's parade 😭 they're so cute

→ user her referring to them as her family, byeeee

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user why is no one talking about the last slide???

→ user because i can't talk while i'm crying, sorry

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user great job this weekend y/n !!! thank you for signing my cap 🥺

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user loved to see her celebrate the red bull double podium even after a hard feature race ❤️

→ user she had to balance out the post with that max and checo pic 😭 would've been just ollie & prema otherwise

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user ollie looks like a baby in the second pic 🥲

→ user just a little boy playing with his toy cars

→ yourusername i had to hold his little teddy bear during the race to make sure it wouldn't get dirty

→ user stopppp you're so real for sharing that

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veren-cos · 7 months ago

Text

I just can't do this!

Alex (sdv) x gn!reader

Kinda hurt/comfort but more just the reader getting out frustration. Lots of the reader swearing lmao

Not proofread, approximately 1k?? I really need to get a word count on these..

Today sucked. Today fucking sucked!

Nothing was going right. Oh my Yoba why can't anything go fucking right?! A new season started so all of your crops died, and you miscalculated how much money you would need for new seeds. Then you went mining to try and make up for the money. But you ended up getting beat by a zombie and needing medical attention from Harvey that you couldn't exactly afford.

You lost your best sword. You used up nearly all of your left over berries from the last season and Yoba knows how long it'll be until this season's start growing again.

And that's what you came home like to Alex. You hadn't cleared the old crops so now you were just stomping over and over on a poor old parsnip.

"You uh.. you alright there babe?" Alex walked over to you, kinda laughing at your pathetic attempt at rage, but was genuinely curious.

"No! No I am not fucking alright, Alex! Nothing is fucking going right. The whole town can go to shit for all I care! They won't get my crops anymore! Pierre can go fuck off, claiming my shit as his own. The mayor can piss off and cry to his girlfriend. But oh wait! He can't! because he is too much of a fucking asshole to actually say Marnie is his girlfriend!!"

You stomped more at the dust that was a parsnip. Every attempt got mildly more and more enraged and pathetic. All of the emotion and pent up anger was boiling to the surface but you were so tired from the repeated stomping it had become deranged.

"Okay, whew that was.. a lot(!) of emotion! You need out of here, like now." He went up and grabbed your shoulders. "I know just the place!" He shot you his signature smile before holding your hand and leading you away. You attempted to pull him off of you but couldn't manage to do anything. Today was rough and you were getting tired.

"Here, babe. Drink this. I just opened it before you came home. It's still cold!" He handed you a protein drink.

"Thanks," You spat out. You weren't meaning to be rude to him. But today was just so god awful!!! He knew you didn't mean it though, so he just kept walking.

Eventually, the two of you arrived at the bus. "What are we doing here? It is way to late to go to the desert."

"While we may be going to the desert, we are going somewhere you have never been before!"

You gave him an intense staredown. "And you're sure this is a good idea? It's mid-afternoon. Everything will be closing soon."

"Not everything! C'mon babe, let's go. You'll see." He pushed you forward onto the bus. And Yoba, that drink was awful! How did he drink those everyday..??

By the time you arrived to the desert it was nearly 7. You were still upset, and starting to get annoyed at the fact you didn't know where you were going.

"And here we are!" It was a beat up old building.

"Alex. Dear. What are the fuck we doing at an abandoned building in the middle of the God damn desert?!" It was too late for all this shit.

He stepped up and opened the door to reveal a dingy 24 hour gym. How had you never known this was here????

"It's been a while since I've been. Probably like 2 years? But they have this!" He gestured to a set of boxing gloves and a punching bag. "Perfect to get out frustration!"

"Babe I don't think I need a punching bag I think I need to legit punch someone in the face."

"They have a printer so you can print whoever's face you want and punch it." He pointed over to an old printer in the corner.

Holy shit, they really did! Too bad you didn't have your phone to print anything.

"Babe. Your anger is totally valid, and a lot of the times it leaves you with a lot of energy that you don't know what to do with." He looked around, reminiscing a bit.

"I know when I can here I was still pissed to all hell about my dad. Sometimes even thinking about him still makes me upset. And now, obviously, you can't go around kicking dead parsnips everyday. So here is a thing you can punch all you want! No danger from the mines, and no repercussions if you screw up. Perfect to let out some frustration."

For how beat up the outside looked, the inside was still pretty nice. There was a table of boxing gloves, and a few mats you could hit. Next to the table, there was both a hanging and standing punching bag.

"Now let's see what you've got."

He tossed you a pair of gloves, and picked up a large mat to warm up on your swings.

"This is silly" you kinda laughed the sentence out, but it truly was a silly thing. You knew that it probably would help, but he made it into the grand reveal that was just so silly.

"It may feel stupid, but you will fell better! I found that it helped more if I said out loud what I was angry at before I punch something."

"Okay... let's try" You put on the gloves, and they were a little too big, but that's okay.

"Whenever you're ready." He looked at you up and down. Even pissed as hell you were still hot.

"I hate that my crops die the second a new season starts!"

*bam*

"I hate Pierre for taking credit for my work!"

*bam*

"I hate that Mayor Lewis is a dumb greedy bastard who mistreats Marnie!"

*bam*

"I hate how long to damn community center is taking to build!"

*bam bam*

Your list went on and on. Punch after punch landed into the pad. Alex at first was trying to stifle laughter from how silly your complaints were, but quickly shut up when you started putting force into your hits. He was stumbling from the impact you left, where honestly it turned into a workout for him too.

When you were finally done, you felt great. It didn't solve anything, but all of the pent up energy got realesed in a shocking fun way.

"Babe.." Alex looked at you. "Remind me to never piss you off"

You burst out laughing. "Awh dear, I could never get mad at you." You booped his nose after setting the gloves down. "Is there anything else you'd like to do here? I seriously can't believe you've never taken me here!"

"No. No I'm good. Trying to not fall from you hitting the mat was enough for me." He laughed, and you could genuinely see he was wiped out.

So the two of you went home, and made casual conversation. He tried to get you to drink another protein shake but you strongly declined. Those things are seriously gross.

"Thank you Alex. It was really nice of you to take me there."

"Of course!" And he shot you another one of his signature smiles, just like earlier. The two of you made it a habit to go at least every other week from then on.

Masterlist

#sdv #stardew valley #stardew valley x reader #sdv alex #alex x reader #sdv alex x reader #sdv alex x farmer #stardew alex #alex

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gartenofbanny · 1 year ago

Text

So I watched Helluva Boss S2E6 "Oops" and let me tell you, it's better than Unhappy Campers, but it's also pretty mediocre too. So let's start off with the things I did like

Pros

Fizzarolli and Asmodeus's relationship

Fizzarolli and Ozzie's relationship is pretty adorable to look at, unlike Stolas and Blitzo's. They actually bounce off each other pretty well and are actually cute. Dick jokes aside.

I also like how Fizzarolli is sort of an advisor to Asmodeus's business related things, telling him what he needs to do for the day, and I also like how he tries to hide how other demons are starting to question whether or not their relationship is entirely lustful or actually romantic.

Asmodeus is very protective of Fizzarolli and respects whatever decision he makes. This is what Stolitz wants to be lmao.

Anyway, that's really the only thing I liked about this episode, now onto what I don't like

Cons

The intelligence of the characters

Most of the characters shown on screen are just dumb for the sake of moving the plot along.

Fizzarolli says he won't raise attention but then decides to raise attention in the Greed Ring where there are theives, bank robbers, and mob bosses.

Asmodeus, despite being one of the Seven Princes of Hell doesn't want to read a fucking contract. I get that he's impatient, but he's one of the Seven Princes and he's had to sign a contract AT LEAST ONCE in his centuries of living.

Striker and Crimson are just..they get distracted in a song where Fizzarolli is intentionally distracting them. I know Crimson is dumb as hell, but Striker and the rest of Crimson's mob? How am I supposed to take these antagonists seriously when they're stupid as hell?

Stolas

Stolas really had no reason being here since why isn't he in the hospital recovering from his injuries? How fast can demons regenerate if it has only been a week since Western Energy? That just removes even more tension even more for when certain characters take injuries because they can just heal from them at most a week later.

Stolas serves ZERO purpose to the plot. He barely does anything throughout this episode. Instead, he just gets all giddy at the sight of a stack of papers. He also says "get fucked little one" and I'm over here like YOU DID NOTHING SHUT UP.

In my opinion, they should've just let Asmodeus answer the phone call alone and read through the contract off-screen. Or have Asmodeus kill the lawyer and search for Fizzarolli while wandering around the Greed Ring.

The entire lawyer scene was pointless anyway because Asmodeus killed the lawyer in the end.

The Backstory

The backstory between Fizzarolli and Blitzo was...eh. I didn't really feel anything while watching the backstory because it was pretty predictable. While I was surprised that Blitzo admits that it was his fault (because when's the last time Blitzo took accountability)

I just could not feel sad for the life of me. And then, when Blitzo tries explaining, he's just interrupted. I'll get to the tonal shift of this episode later, but Blitzo says, "You have no idea what I lost in that fire". So Blitzo's mom died, and I'm wondering was Blitzo even aware that Fizzarolli was alive or not?

Because in Fizzarolli's perspective, Blitzo did see him but just ignored him. Not to mention, Blitzo somehow didn't acknowledge the fire when he bumped into Wally Wackford.

I'm damn sure Wally Wackford was screaming. Even then, Blitzo should've heard the flames go off, Blitzo should've seen the light of the fire in his peripheral vision, but he doesn't acknowledge it.

Blitzo's mom

Yeah, I'm counting this as a con. I don't feel bad that Tilla died because WE DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HER. She's the same as Moxxie's mom but with a name.

Are the mothers of male characters just supposed to fucking die? At least we got to see Moxxie's mom on screen. We never even saw Tilla in the first place aside from some fucking portraits.

Is this supposed to make me feel bad for Blitzo because he caused the fire, and I'm pretty sure Fizzarolli also had a good relationship with her, yet we never see his reaction to the death of Tilla either. Just Blitzo's and, to an extent, Barbie Wire's. Speaking of

Barbie Wire

Yeah, Barbie Wire wasn't really mentioned at all throughout this entire episode, not even in the flashback.

In the storyboard she did appear, but in the final version she just doesn't make an appearance for some reason. Vivziepop does not give a shit about their female characters

Fizzarolli forgiving Blitzo

Fizzarolli forgave Blitzo way too quickly in this episode. It doesn't make any sense that Fizzarolli forgave Blitzo, but Barbie Wire doesn't. Even though Barbie Wire has still been in contact with Blitzo.

Turns out Fizzarolli and Blitzo's hatred for each other was just a huge misunderstanding. Someone or something has prevented them from coming into contact with one another. They both keep saying, "But they told me" or "I never told them that" and who the hell is "they"? Just leaving out information for no reason at all.

Fizzarolli says, "It's hard to forgive you. It's been 15 years," but then he proceeds to forgive Blitzo near the end of the episode.

That's not how forgiveness works. Forgiveness takes time to go into effect it doesn't just happen when you hear a sob story.

Personally, I wouldn't have mind if FizArolli forgave Blitzo but not in the same episode where they're the main focused of an episode for the first time.

Convenient shit

Stuff just happens because it happens in this episode. Blitzo is at Greed because he wants breakfast and just so happens to meet Fizzarolli despite the fact that Crimson is still around.

Striker and Crimson coincidentally meet and are conveniently near Fizzarolli and Blitzo, allowing the two to get kidnapped.

A goon conveniently has anger issues and kills a large amount of his own crew allowing Blitzo and Fizz to escape

Striker and Fizzarolli are conveniently behind fucking gasoline WHY IS THERE PERFECTLY GOOD GASOLINE IN A DUMP?!

Fizzarolli's arms conveniently malfunction, so he can't escape the flames, so Blitzo has to save him.

It's just convenient stuff just so the plot can move along.

Tone issues

Can't be a Helluva Boss episode without tone issues. I don't feel like listing the examples because there are A LOT, but one major example I will put is Crimson blackmailing Asmodeus and at the end of it, one of his goons don't know how to hang up a phone or to stop a video.

This series can not have a serious scene if it saved its life.

Conclusion

I would comment on how Striker is just mischaracterized again through Blitzo calling him a supremacist or how the antagonists overall in this episode are dumb as hell. Or how this episode raises even more questions

But I believe those two deserve blogs by themselves. Anyway, thank you all for reading, and I hope you all have a nice day! ❤️

And I give this episode a 3.1/10

#helluva boss #vivziepop critical #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop #helluva boss critique #helluva critical #vivienne medrano #hazbin hotel

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fandomfluffandfuck · 4 months ago

Note

Okay, so I’m not even an Evanstan person, but I went to SDCC this week and just flew out of San Diego. When the plane was moving out to the runway, I noticed an area with smaller planes, which mostly seemed like private jets (presumably at least some for the celebrities/wealthy people visiting the convention).

And I couldn’t stop thinking about Chris or Seb inviting the other on a flight back to LA, using the excuse that they don’t want to be alone and it’s easier, but they make sure that the pilot is the only one aboard and join the mile high club. 👀

Specifically about Chris getting on his knees for his boy, reminding him that they only have 15-20 minutes and he’s got to stay quiet. It just felt right up your alley, so if this prompt inspires anything, I’d love to hear it!!

related to Seb at SDCC, and them together at the Hollywood Walk of Fame

also, you'll probably enjoy this little fic

Lmao, I love that the evanstan reunion has so much power that it's roped you in, too. Also, aw, you're so lucky! I hope SDCC was good (even though it's been a long time since then by now 😅)!

But, oof, yeah, I can always think about Chris on his knees for Sebastian--a mile high in the air or otherwise 😮‍💨

Sebastian flew in late, late on the 24th in preparation for the Hollywood Walk of Fame ceremony for Kevin, so Chris didn't have the time to see him until the day of the ceremony, the 25th, and just those few hours of knowing his man was in the close vicinity to his LA home was--not to be dramatic, but--torturous.

And then seeing him for the first time in months among cameras and crowds, with the least amount of privacy possible-? That, too, was torturous. It was all he could do to reel himself in against leaning in for a much too long hug and I-missed-you-like-a-drowning-man-misses-air kiss. Considering how he felt internally? His clapping and dorky grin was "all too obvious," according to both Sebastian's (in-person) and Anthony's (over text after the videos circulated and broke Twitter) teasing? That was chill. As chill as he could've been. Calm. Collected even.

Still, no matter the few days to themselves between their Hollywood Walk of Fame obligation and Sebastian's needed appearance at Comic Con on the 27th for Marvel, Chris has not had enough time to acclimate to his boyfriend being close enough to touch. Life size and physical, not seen through a screen.

So, can he be blamed for watching how Seb bounces his leg on their private plane, always at least a little nervous about flying, and thinking nothing but terrible, inappropriate things about how to calm him down? All of his ideas are physical and incredibly touchy.

Chris doesn't think he can be blamed. And he's not going to ask for a second opinion, at least, not until after Sebastian's brain has put itself back in working, non-melted order once he's gotten scrambled. It doesn't matter that they're flying back to Chris' LA home for more private, alone time. Nah. That's not important. What is important is that Seb is right here, and he's practically vibrating with nervous energy, and Chris is just a man.

A man who's missed his man badly.

Plan formed and mind made up, wicked, Chris oh-so casually fishes his phone from his pocket, unlocks it, and navigates to the clock app and setting it for 20 minutes. They've barely been up in the air, so that should be just about right. The pilot already told them how long the flight should be, so he's not playing with fire... not fire that's too hot, at least.

Then, phone in hand, timer ready to go, Chris leans back to give himself plenty of space to unclick his seat belt with deft fingers and slide down onto his knees. Easy as that. With how in his head Seb can get around flights and his anxieties with them, Chris is even surprised he notices him getting up to trouble.

Seb does notice, though, looking down at him with wide eyes, "what're you--what are you doing?" He asks, his voice quieter than strictly necessary. It's just them back here, no flight staff, just them and the pilot. The perk of private planes.

"What does it look like 'm doing?" Chris snarks back playfully, walking slowly forward on his knees. Closer, closer, and finally fucking close enough to place his hands heavily on Seb's knees. He doesn't let his hands stay there, though, stationary. He pushes his legs apart, hands heavy and pressing, giving him no room to think. As soon as he got his hands on Seb, he stopped jiggling his leg. Both of his feet are firmly on the ground now. Perfect. This is the distraction he needs, the stale, chilled air around them just beginning to fill with tension.

"Here?" Seb squawks, vaguely indignant, his eyes searching their space and finding no one else.

Just them.

"Mmm-hmm," Chris drawls, grinning mischieviously as he lets his hands wander up his thighs, daring to go far enough to undo Seb's seat belt for him. Seb inhales sharply, in reaction to being seemingly less safe or because Chris' hands drag across his dick, he'll never know exactly, maybe both. But, because he's a gentleman, Chris unbuttons his pants while he's at it.

That leaves just the thin layer of his underwear between Chris' mouth and his beginning-to-wake cock. Instinctively, Chris' mouth waters. He can't be this close to that cock without getting the desperate urge to suck it and swallow it down his throat. Just thinking about it, God, he's getting hard himself. Seb heavy on his tongue... the smell of his arousal, heady and dark... the way he tastes when he leaks... how he feels when he twitches... the way he looks when he's about to cum and is trying to hold back desperately, squirming, making these pleading, aborted little whines that say he just can't fucking take it, it feels so good, with his face screwing up and pinching, so much pleasure that it almost reads as pain...

Focus, Chris, he tells himself. They're on a time limit here. He hasn't got the luxury of waxing poetic about his favorite dick.

"Don't worry, darlin'," Chris pets his hands up and down Sebastian's thighs, heating him up with the friction and watching, enraptured, as Seb's eyes get steadily darker, those pupils widening deliciously. "You don't gotta do a thing, 'kay?" Sebastian blinks at him, already going a little dumb. Cute. "Just sit there and look pretty while I make you feel good."

Seb swallows audibly, lost but so willing to take every word Chris says as gospel.

"Yeah?" Chris asks for affirmation as he pinches the inside of his thigh through his pants, teasing him.

Sebastian's eyes are still wide as if they haven't done worse in less private places. But, predictably, the comment about being pretty brings those eyelids down, just a touch heavier. His breath turns funny. Chris already knows what he's going to say, but he wants to hear it anyway. For fun.

"Okay," Seb breathes, nodding unsteadily.

"Yeah," Chris hears himself coo, encouraging him and letting his own hands travel to his slim hips, gripping his body like he's about to plunge into him and fuck him good, leaving ten fingerprint bruises in his body to remember him later. An ache in his hips like the ache between his cheeks from being pried open nice and wide and fucked good. The memory of all the marks he's left, all the times he's taken pleasure from his body, all the too-good fuck sessions they've had--they just make Chris' hunger for his cock worse. He's got to do something with his mouth. So, he talks a little more:

"That's it, pretty thing, just keep those hands right there--" digging into the armrests, not moving, just holding on. Chris really doesn't want him to do anything but what he said, sit there and take it. Be pretty. Really, that's all he knows how to do, be pretty. But, right before he ducks down to nuzzle at his dick, playing as if he's just suddenly, organically remembered, Chris instructs, "oh, and, don't forget: shhh," he blows hot air across Seb's lap, knowing the sensation will be such a tease, humid and feverish through his thin boxer briefs that barely cover his modesty.

Accordingly, Sebastian shivers.

Perfect.

"We wouldn't want to give the pilot any reason to come back here or ask what's going on back here before we land, hm?" Chris asks, maybe more cocky than he should be, but...

Seeing how Sebastian flushes red hot and goosebumps appear on his arms, hands firmly digging into his armrests, maybe not. He's just cocky enough. "N-no," Seb's voice cracks. Sweet.

Chris pinches his hip, just a tease of the sprinkling of the pain that Sebastian responds so well to--such a gorgeous thing that likes to hear he's pretty and likes to feel sensation. He likes good, he likes bad, he likes sweet, loving pleasure, he likes pain. He's such a good fucking boy for it all. Chris' favorite. His only. "A show as pretty as you can't be given out for free, now can it?"

Seb bites back a whimper.

"That's the spirit." Chris hums with twisted, perverse glee. And thus, unceremoniously, with one hand, he pulls Seb's thickening cock out from his underwear and using the other, he thumbs his phone, starting the timer he set.

"Wh-what?" Seb mumbles, his voice small and utterly confused. Mostly, he's distracted by the sudden threat of having his dick sucked--Chris jerking him off slowly, his mouth looming.

"Hmm?" Chris discards his counting down phone on the empty seat next to Sebastian, projecting thoughtlessness and ease as if this is nothing interesting. He's always on his knees for Sebastian in a private plane. Why would today be any different? Why is Seb acting so strange? This is just what they do. Of course.

"What?" Seb's eyes have strayed from him and, ineast, are glued to the timer.

Time... already... slipping... away...

"You heard the pilot, honey," Chris licks his lips, enjoying how Seb's cock is plumping up in his hand. He's getting harder and harder, swelling bigger and bigger as if on command, controlled by Chris. Christ. Isn't that a thought? A boy on command. Always ready to go whenever Chris calls. Fuck. "This flight isn't that long, and I'm not gonna let anyone have eyes on my boy. Someone has to be responsible."

"Oh." Seb's little, shocked sound is so fucking sweet. It drives Chris insane.

"Yeah," Chris replies, talking as if Seb is making any good points and not reduced to a sweetly tiny, simple vocabulary. "So. Do you wanna keep talking and making noise or..." he trails off, ripping his eyes away from Sebastian's and down toward his more than half-hard cock, responding to the treatment he's giving him.

Sebastian snaps his mouth shut so quickly it's audible, trailing Chris and dragging his eyes down too to stare at his own swelling cock. He's not wet yet, but he's gonna be--pre-cum and saliva.

Fuck yeah.

"That's what I thought," Chris chuckles low in his throat. "That's a good choice for a good boy," his soft laughter melts into a purr.

Then, going in for the kill--his murder weapon nothing more than his mouth--Chris brings Sebastian's just more than half-hard dick right into his mouth. Engulfing him.

He doesn't give Seb anymore warm up than the once over with his hand, jerking him a little. Nah, he wants to rip this orgasm out of Seb so he doesn't know what hit him, leaving him all achy and dizzy. Sweet and docile. Chris can wait until they get home if it means his pretty boy hanging off his arm, floating in a daze through the airport and into their waiting car before throwing him through their front door to have his way with him in their own fucking bed.

He's gonna spread Sebastian out and lose himself in his body. He's gonna feel so good, utterly limp, except where he's clenching tight around his dick.

Yeahhh.

Extra eager, the rest of his plan taking shape in his head, Chris takes his dick all the way down to the base just to feel his cock twitch and jerk and swell in his mouth and the top of the throat. Coming alive.

Pulsing.

Growing.

There's nothing that compares to the sensation of feeling his boyfriend take pleasure from his body--being a hot, warm hole for him. Chris shivers, feeling pressed in on by Sebastian's knees, warm and squeezing at his shoulders. He's totally hard now.

Solid.

Hot.

It feels so fucking good to swallow around him and run his tongue over the big shape of him. His veins throbbing. His foreskin drawn back. His head silky and smooth. His shaft just hard as shit.

God.

As Chris works, tonguing and sucking and swallowing around him, Seb is having an increasingly hard time keeping himself quiet. Good.

It's worse when Chris swallows roughly, again, and then hums around him. Feeling him struggle and hearing him struggle is a little too fucking intoxicating. Chris might as well be drunk on it. His taste. His strain. Him.

Him.

Chris doubles down, grabbing at his hips and shoving himself down on his cock until he sputters. But, he holds himself down anyway. He wants to choke on it. He likes the way it feels in his throat--toe-curlingly hot and stretching.

Meanwhile, Seb's doing everything he can to stay silent, not wanting to be caught red-handed, rather, red-dicked maybe. Ha. He's struggling. Shaking, gripping his armrests tighter, tighter, and tighter, his knuckles going white, spreading his legs wide, trying to jerk up into Chris' mouth, but--

"Mm-mn," Chris makes a sound of disapproval, flicking his eyes up. He wants him to take it. Take exactly what he gives him. No more. No less. This orgasm is his. He's gonna fucking rip it out of Seb. He'll make him feel so damn good.

Sebastian whines faintly, trying not to. He's just so helpless.

Still, Chris scratches his nails down his pants-covered thighs, saving him from the worst of the bite--another heated threat. This time, Sebastian catches his lip between his teeth, but his hips aren't so easily controlled. Bucking up and shoving himself hotly down his throat. The friction is slick and good and thick. But, it's about the rules. The game. He wants Seb to play along.

He'll make him play along.

So, Chris pulls off, lapping at the tip of his cock, jerking him slowly not because he needs to like before, when Seb was dry, now he's soaked with spit. He's slowed down because he wants to. "Careful, baby, I might just put your belt back on you."

Seb makes a helpless little sound, choked up.

"Oh, you want that?" He plays dumb, as if he isn't intimately familiar with Sebastian's fetishization of bondage. Yeah, he's fucking hot for it. Always has been. Airplane seatbelts. Necktie. Scarfs. Anything else silly and improvised, or, serious and not improvised... like, heavy, padded leather cuffs.

"You want me to tie you down with seat belts across these fucking uncomfortable-ass chairs?" Chris chuckles, the vibrations enough to make Seb weak, even if his mouth isn't totally around his cock now, just lapping his head and sloppily kissing his shaft. "Should I get a plane with a private suite next time? Spread you out on the bed and have my way with you then? Bring some rope along in my carry on? Make you helpless and take it no matter what?"

"Ch-Chris!" A quiet whine of his name bursts from Seb's chest.

"Nu-uh," Chris shakes his head. "You gonna be still and silent so no one knows? Or do I gotta stop, Sebby?"

Sebastian quivers like a leaf in a wind storm. Head to toe. But he doesn't make a sound. So, that's answer enough, isn't it?

Chris gets back to work, sucking his fucking cock. He's not looking at the timer but Sebastian is. Chris can't decide, now, what he wants more. Does he want Seb to cum now and be all sweet and docile all the way home, pawing at him, begging to stop in the nearest bathroom and return the favor, his oral fixation acting up, bad, wanting to be sweet? Or, does he want Seb to not cum in the time and be disrupted so he's hissy and bristling like a feral kitten, dragging Chris through the airport all the way back to their bedroom, his claws sinking into his forearm, showing how fucking wound up he is? Oh, the options...

Around his dick, Chris grins, his mouth and throat full. He's sure he looks sloppy (and probably stupid, lips stretched so much) but he feels fucking salacious.

God, he wants to pull Seb forward by the hips so he can tap a few spit slick fingers against his tight little hole, but he doesn't. He doesn't want him to move. He's fucking serious about being a cute, pretty thing for him to swallow down, not moving and not making a peep. Also, he wants to reach down into his underwear to fondle his balls, but they both would have to move for that, too. So he doesn't. Instead, he just fucking sucks. Hallowing his cheeks. Humming. Swallowing. Pushing his tongue against Seb's pelvis and getting him deep. He wants Seb to just fucking lose it.

And he wants it to happen quietly, without him making a sound, no choice in the matter, he just feels too fucking good.

If only he knew how long was left on the timer...

Well, that's something for Sebastian to do, now isn't it? Chris will just leisurely fucking suck that dick, going hard because he wants to, enjoying himself, enjoying his boy's cock, and if Seb happens to cum? He happens to cum. If he doesn't? He won't. Anticipation is all for Sebastian. Let it wind him tighter. Who knows, maybe he'll break.

#asks #fandomfluffandfuck #chris evans #sebastian stan #evanstan #rpf #real person fanfiction #sub seb #dom chris #sub sebastian #subastian

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