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valeisaslut · 4 hours ago

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⭒࿐COLLIDE - c. two

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credits for the fanart: nramvv - edited by me

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐖𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄.

← 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑒 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒 →

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⚢ pairing: Rockstar!Ellie Williams x Popstar!Reader 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ synopsis: One TMZ headline later, and the internet is in a full-blown meltdown. You should’ve known that sneaking out of Ellie Williams’ hotel at sunrise was a disaster waiting to happen. Now the whole world thinks you and Ellie are dating, and there’s only one way out—lean into the chaos. Fake dating was never part of the plan, but if anyone can pull it of, it’s the two of you… right? 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ word count: 6,8k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ content: unserious and chaotic as HELL lmao, fake dating, mostly dialogue, memes and brainrot stuff, LOTS of cursing, pet names, fluff if you squint, use of y/n, modern au, smoking weed, mention of cigarettes, alcohol and drugs, afab!reader, multiple part series, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

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TMZ EXCLUSIVE: Y/N’s MYSTERIOUS WALK OF SHAME… STRAIGHT OUT OF ELLIE WILLIAMS’ HOTEL? 👀🔥

Los Angeles, CA – Buckle up, internet, because today’s tea is so hot it might spontaneously combust. Early this morning, global pop sensation y/n was spotted making a very interesting exit from The Four Seasons—an exit that screamed, “I made some choices, and I’ll be dealing with the consequences (happily) later.”

Let’s paint the picture: baggy jeans (very much not hers), an oversized tee (suspiciously familiar), last-night heels, and, most importantly, the kind of walk that suggests she just lived through an... experience.🔥

VIDEO ATTACHED: y/n stepping out of The Four Seasons with the posture of someone who just discovered new life-altering truths about herself.

And now, the cherry on top? The hotel in question just happens to be the same one where rock’s reigning heartbreaker and The Fireflies' frontwoman, Ellie Williams, has been staying during the band's sold-out tour.

Yeah. Let THAT sink in.

THE NIGHT BEFORE: PURE CHAOS

Last night, the musicians were first spotted together at a private club in West Hollywood, and the energy? Dangerous. We’re talking intense eye contact, whispered words, and a proximity that had no business being that close. 👀

Sources inside the club (who, let’s be real, were probably staring way too hard) claim the two were “all over each other the entire night.” And then, like clockwork—both gone. Together.😏

PICTURE ATTACHED: y/n and Ellie at the bar, drinks in hand, leaning in so close they might as well be sharing oxygen.

Fast-forward a few hours, and one of them is leaving a luxury hotel in borrowed clothes, while the other is nowhere to be seen. Hm...

THE INTERNET: INSTANTLY UNHINGED

It’s not every day that the two of the most famous artists on the planet accidentally break the internet with a single walk of shame. It took exactly 0.2 seconds for Twitter—sorry, X—to collectively lose its mind. #YNxEllie shot to the top of the trending list faster than lighting, and the reactions? Pure, unfiltered, internet gold.

Some fans are calling it the rock-pop crossover event of the decade. Others are in full denial, muttering “it’s just a one-time thing” like a prayer (lol, sure). And then there’s the fanfic writers, who are already on their second chapter about this very moment.

Meanwhile, our two leads? Radio. Silence.

No wry Instagram stories. No cryptic tweets. No emergency PR statements. Just Ellie, cool as ever, casually liking a meme about getting your clothes stolen from “the girl you spent all night ruining.” 😭🙃

SO, WHAT HAPPENS NOW?

We wait. Impatiently.

Is this just an iconic but questionable decision? Will y/n post a cryptic thirst trap in retaliation? Will Ellie respond with an even more cryptic Instagram story? Or are we witnessing the birth of music’s next power couple?

One thing’s for sure—this is a story we’ll be watching very closely.

Stay tuned. 😏🔥

What do YOU think? Drop your theories in the comments below! ⬇️🔥

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@: this isn’t just a hookup. this is the lesbians Super Bowl.

@: tears in my eyes. full body worship. standing ovulation. whatever it’s called.

@: “mysterious walk of shame” NAH SHE CLOCKED IN, DID OVERTIME, AND LEFT WITH A RAISE 💀

@: not her texting the driver like “can’t feel my legs send help” 😭 icon.

@: someone check on the poor girl ellie this wasn’t a leave her paralyzed challenge

@: THE SECOND PIC. YALL. THEY LOOK SO GODDAMN FINE I’M CHEWING DRYWALL AND DRINKING THE DUST 😩

@: i need them to either hard launch or drop a sex tape at this point because my soul is restless

@: this is the most lesbian thing I’ve ever seen and I was THERE for korrasami and caitvi.

@: i just KNOW Ellie’s strap game goes absolutely feral and that walk was all the proof I needed #cravethat #scientificallyproven

@: pop mother got her back blown OUT

@: #elliehititrawandnowshestrending

@: they are either deeply in love or just HORRENDOUS at sneaky links. either way, I win.

@: tmz trynna act like we don’t instantly recognize Ellie’s entire wardrobe on her lmao

@: she defo picked those on purpose and you can't convince me otherwiseeee

@: the way we all clocked those clothes immediately like homegirl has worn that same fit 67 times this year and counting

@: Ellie dresses like a divorced dad at Home Depot but somehow y/n wearing her clothes is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen

@: one-night thing my ass. drop the collab album. drop the wedding invites. drop the baby name.

@: I have no idea what's going on but I support them!

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The studio is cold. Too cold.

You lean against the massive soundboard, eyes heavy with exhaustion as the producer fine-tunes the levels on your latest track. The bass hums through the speakers, deep and rhythmic.

You got home, showered, and walked into the studio like nothing happened. Like you weren’t still replaying everything in your head—the heat of her hands, the weight of her body, the way she— Nope. Not going there.

The only thing keeping you upright is sheer force of will and the coffee clutched in your hands, now lukewarm but still packing enough caffeine to keep your legs from betraying you in front of the expensive equipment.

But something feels off.

Nobody is looking at you.

Nobody is saying anything.

The thing is, your team is never quiet. They talk about everything—schedules, brand deals, what the fuck you’re eating for lunch—but today? Nothing. Just silence.

Not a single offhand comment. No teasing about the all-nighter you clearly pulled. Not even a glance in your direction.

Your producer is laser-focused on the track, nodding along like it holds the meaning of life. Your sound editor keeps his eyes glued to the screen, like looking anywhere else might kill him. And your assistant—sweet, terrible liar that she is—won’t stop sneaking glances at her phone, then at you, then at her phone again, like she’s watching a train wreck in real time and trying to figure out when to break the news that you’re the train.

Slowly, you set your coffee down, reach for your own phone, and unlock it, already feeling the creeping dread claw up your spine.

The second your screen lights up, it’s over. Notifications flood in. X. Instagram. Texts. Group chats blowing up like a damn stock market crash. Millions of mentions. Your name trending in bold, blaring letters.

And then you see it.

TMZ EXCLUSIVE: Y/N'S MYSTERIOUS WALK OF SHAME… STRAIGHT OUT OF ELLIE WILLIAMS’ HOTEL? 👀🔥

You suck in a breath—a sharp, audible gasp that cuts through the eerie silence.

Your assistant makes a tiny, distressed sound. Your producer visibly flinches, finally daring to glance at you. Your sound editor—wise, blessedly silent—just pauses the track.

Your fingers move faster than your brain, scrolling in blind panic. Pictures. Too many fucking pictures.

The first one is a grainy, low-lit shot of you and Ellie at the bar—bodies too close, drinks in hand, faces inches apart. The kind of tension that crackles even through a shitty phone camera. The next? A ruthless side-by-side comparison of Ellie’s Instagram post from last week. Same shirt. Same jeans. The exact ones you walked out wearing.

And then—because the universe is a cruel, twisted place—the final nail in the coffin.

A video.

Of you.

Sneaking out of her hotel.

You hit play, and instantly regret every life choice that led you there. Because why the fuck were you walking like that?!

Not just suspicious. Not just guilty. But the kind of unsteady, post-life-changing-experience walk that has the entire internet foaming at the mouth, legs barely cooperating like you just left the scene of a particularly intense crime.

Your soul exits your body, ascends to the ceiling, and refuses to come back down.

Your phone starts ringing. And you already know who it is. For a brief, fleeting moment, you consider launching the damn thing across the room.

Because of course it’s Rachel.

Your manager and professional-life mastermind. The woman who negotiates your million-dollar deals before breakfast. And, apparently, the bane of your existence right now.

You push through the studio doors without explaining a damn thing, the cool air outside hitting your face like a slap. Your head is pounding, fingers digging into your temples like you can physically massage the embarrassment out of your skull.

Your phone still vibrates in your hand. You don’t even have time to brace yourself before answering. The second you do, her voice explodes through the speaker.

“OH. MY. GOD.”

You flinch, yanking the phone away from your ear like it might physically protect you. It doesn’t. She’s still yelling, still fully spiraling, and honestly? She has every right to. Because you’re trending. Hard.

And not for your music.

“Before you say anything—”

“ARE YOU SEEING THIS? My phone has been BLOWING UP since 6 AM. Do you understand what you’ve done?!”

You sigh, shifting uncomfortably. Here we fucking go.

“Rachel, I’m so fucking sorry, I never meant for that to happen I didn’t know there were paparazzi outside the hotel! I—”

“THIS IS PERFECT.”

“—know I fucked up”

You pause mid-spiral. Blink. “...Wait, what?”

“You heard me! This is GOLD. This is EVERYTHING. Your fans are losing their minds, the internet is eating this up, and you know what that means?”

“…That I need to delete my existence?”

“That this is going to take both of your careers to the next level.”

Your head is spinning. “Whoa—slow down. The fuck you mean?”

Rachel lets out an exaggerated sigh, like she’s explaining shapes to a toddler. “You need to be interesting. She needs damage control. You both need the press. This relationship is everything you need.”

“Relationship?” You nearly choke. “Rachel, we just hooked up. It was a one-time thing, nothing else.”

“Oh... just a one-time thing?”

“Yes!”

“Okay.”

She says it so casually you instantly know she’s about to ruin your life.

“Then fake it.”

“WHAT?”

Your soul leaves your body. Again.

“A fake relationship!” She repeats, like it’s the most normal suggestion in the world.

“Oh my god. No. NO. That’s—that’s fucking stupid!"

“Oh, come on, girl.” Rachel groans. “You would be shocked to know how many celebrity couples are fake. Like, 90% of them, and people still eat that shit up like it’s their job. It’s the most effective PR stunt in the history of PR stunts.”

“I don't care! Even if it’s fake, I don’t wanna be in a relationship with her!”

Rachel, clearly unimpressed “Be so fucking for real right now.”

“Listen” she continues, slipping into full Hollywood mastermind mode. “It’s the perfect rockstar-popstar trope that people are gonna LOVE. Some staged dates, some Instagram stories, show up to a few award shows together, write some songs about her for the album—blah, blah, blah. Then, when you both get what you want, you drop a statement about breaking up on good terms because of ‘busy schedules’ or ‘long distance’ or whatever. Boom. Done. Headlines. History.”

You exhale sharply, dragging a hand down your face, but you can already feel her words getting to you.

“Okay…that does sound kinda iconic...”

You hear her scream.

“BUT” You snap. “I seriously doubt she’s gonna be on board.”

“She has to be. That girl needs to clean up her image immediately. If she wants to keep her career afloat, she needs to say yes." Rachel doesn’t miss a beat. "Honestly, it even benefits her more than it benefits you.”

You press the phone tighter against your ear, your free hand rubbing over your face over and over again as if that’ll somehow erase this chaos unfolding in real-time.

But honestly?

What could go wrong?

So you exhale sharply again.

“Fine, fine. We’ll… debate it.”

“PERFECT! Tell me how it goes!”

There’s a short pause, just long enough for you to think—maybe—this conversation is about to take a serious turn.

And then—

“…So, how was she in bed?”

You nearly drop your phone. “RACHEL.”

“What?! It’s a valid question! I mean, I saw the walk.” A beat. Then, way too smugly “People are even making edits of your limp.”

Okay.

This is officially the worst day of your life.

“We are NOT doing this.”

“Oh, we are ABSOLUTELY doing this.”

You groan, squeezing your eyes shut. There's no escaping this.

“Was it life-changing or life-threatening? Did she break your back or fix your scoliosis?”

You stare up at the sky, silently begging for divine intervention. None comes. So, with the weight of someone who has lost everything, you exhale.

“…she made me see fucking Jesus.”

Silence. A beat.

Rachel screams so loud you nearly throw your phone at the window.

“I FUCKING KNEW IT.”

“HANGING UP NOW.”

“NO WAIT!—DID SHE—”

“BYE.”

You slam the End Call button so fast it’s a miracle your screen doesn’t crack.

Blissful, beautiful silence.

For exactly three seconds.

Buzz.

Rachel: COME BACK WE ARE NOT DONE.

Buzz.

Rachel: do I schedule a chiropractor or a priest? 😭

You turn your phone off. Permanently.

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It was late, the kind of night where the city hummed low in the background, neon signs bleeding color into the streets.

And Ellie Williams was trying to have a normal band practice.

Trying.

But it was pretty fucking hard when Jesse and Dina were staring at her like she’d just announced she was quitting music to become a full-time televangelist.

She adjusted the strap of her guitar, already irritated. “Can you guys, I don’t know, say something instead of fucking looking at me like that?”

“Oh, we’re just waiting...” Jesse said as he leaned against the drum set, taking a slow drag of his cigarette and grinning like the absolute menace he was.

Dina, perched on an amp, smirked. “Yeah. Just giving you a chance to come clean before we bring out the receipts.”

Ellie scoffed, trying to play it cool. “What receipts?”

Dina wiggled her phone in the air, smirk widening. “Seems like you’ve been very busy, rockstar.”

She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “The fuck are you both talking about!?”

Jesse and Dina exchanged the look. The kind that made Ellie’s patience thin by the second.

Jesse sighed dramatically, putting out his cigarette on the plato like he was about to drop the biggest bombshell of the century. “Alright, since you’re playing dumb—”

He pulled out his phone with the enthusiasm of a man whose sole purpose in life was witnessing Ellie’s downfall.

“Lemme just read the best part real quick—” And clearing his throat like he was about to give a Shakespearean performance:

“‘Global superstar y/n was spotted leaving Ellie Williams’s hotel early this morning after a rumored all-night rendezvous. Fans immediately noticed the pop star's unusually relaxed wardrobe choice—’”

Dina whistled. “‘—baggy jeans and an oversized tee, both belonging to a certain someone who was seen wearing them just last week—’”

Jesse shook his head, flipping his phone around. “Nah, this is crazy. This is some Oscar-worthy shit.”

Ellie groaned the second she saw the TMZ photo—you stepping out of the hotel in her clothes. And then there was her, leaving an hour later, hoodie up like it could shield her from literally everyone, rubbing the back of her neck like some dumbass who just realized they fucked up in a romcom.

She looked guilty as hell.

He zoomed in on her face, laughing. “Yo, you look like you just realized you caught feelings.”

Dina snorted, scrolling through her phone. “Oh, they are EATING this shit up. Listen to this” —dramatic inhale— “‘They are either deeply in love or just horrendous at sneaky links. Either way, I win.’”

Jesse howled. “‘Someone check on the poor girl—Ellie, this wasn’t a ‘leave her paralyzed’ challenge.’”

Ellie groaned. “You guys—”

“OH MY GOD.” Dina gasped. “SOMEONE JUST MADE A SIDE-BY-SIDE.”

Jesse leaned in. “Caption?”

“‘WHAT IN THE SCISSOR OLYMPICS. GOLD MEDAL PERFORMANCE.”

He collapsed against the drum set, howling even harder. “Nah, this is crazy. You really let her walk outta there like that?! You KNEW what you did. You knew EXACTLY what you were doing.”

Ellie covered her face with her hands. “I hate it here.”

Jesse was thriving, nearly bouncing on his feet like a kid on Christmas morning. “Dude. You bagged y/n. Like, THE Y/N. Pop princess herself. That fine-ass woman writes songs so good they make people crash their cars.”

Dina nodded solemnly. “I crashed twice to ‘Stay.’”

Ellie shot her a look. “First of all, you shouldn’t have a license.” Then at Jesse “Second, can you fucking NOT? We just hooked up. That’s it.”

He just snorted. “Yeah? Tell that to the 40 million people who liked the tweets about it.”

Ellie groaned so loud it could’ve been mistaken for a death rattle. “This is so fucking bad.”

Jesse ignored her, grinning like an absolute menace. “Like, do you even understand the cultural impact of what you’ve done? This is like—” He gestured wildly. “—punk rock meets Billboard Hot 100 hookup of the century!”

Dina smirked. “And judging by the way she was walking? You bodied that shit.”

Ellie scowled. “She was wearing heels all night!”

Dina arched a brow. “So were you gonna say that, or are you just making that up now?”

Ellie opened her mouth. Closed it. Dragged a hand down her face.

Jesse cackled. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

She was this close to walking out.

Then, like a gift from hell, her phone started buzzing.

Your name flashed across the screen. Gasps.

Ellie panicked, immediately shoving it in her pocket.

Dina’s jaw dropped. “Did you just—DECLINE Y/N?! Are you fucking STUPID?!”

Jesse shook his head, dead serious. “No, no. Let her cook. Maybe she’s playing hard to get.”

Ellie groaned, yanking her jacket off the chair and making her way to the door. “Practice over. I hope both of you trip over a flight of stairs and eat shit all the way down.”

“Aw, so sweet of you!” Dina beamed. “We’re gonna start picking baby names as soon as you leave.”

Ellie didn’t even look back—just flipped them off on her way out like a parting gift.

The door slammed shut loudly.

A beat of silence.

Then, muffled through the wall—

“AND JESSE STOP SAYING LET HER COOK THE MEME DIED MONTHS AGO.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP NO IT DIDN’T!”

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Ellie had barely stepped out of the studio, muttering “Fucking kill me” before calling you back. As soon as you answered, she was quick to be the first one to talk.

“Before you say anything—this is not my fault.”

Your voice came through immediately.

“Ellie.”

Tone flat. Dead serious.

She hesitated. “…Yeah?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Ellie stopped dead in her tracks. Like, full-body malfunction.

Her entire fucking life flashed before her eyes. Marriage. A house. A tiny baby wrapped in a flannel onesie. Joel crying at the babyshower. Dina and Jesse as the weirdly invested godparents.

Silence.

Then—

“Oh, fuck off!”

You howled with laughter. “Not even a little panic? All I got was a one-second existential crisis?”

“Dude. Biology exists.”

Though, if she was being honest, you had her for a solid half-second. She could already hear Joel clearing his throat, preparing for his father-of-the-bride speech, could already see Jesse and Dina clicking through a PowerPoint titled "Ellie Williams: Accidentally Domesticated—A case study."

You scoffed “See, this is why you’re no fun.”

“This is why you're deranged.”

“You love it.”

“No. You need therapy.”

“I have therapy. On Thursdays. Shoutout to Linda.”

Ellie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Did you actually need something, or was this just a drive-by psychological attack?”

“Oh, you know. Just the minor issue that the entire fucking internet thinks we’re dating?”

Ellie groaned, unlocking her car with a beep. “Technically, we could just ignore it—”

“Ellie.”

“…Yeah, yeah. What’s the damage?”

“Well” you started, voice syrupy sweet, “Not only do I look like I did the world’s sluttiest walk of shame, but people also figured out those were your clothes. And, fun fact! They say you dress like a divorced dad from Home Depot.”

“Yeah, I saw.”

“No, I don’t think you understand the severity of it.” Your voice got increasingly dramatic. “People have shipping spreadsheets. They have theories. Someone made a Google doc analyzing our astrology compatibility. Ellie, we are trending #1 WORLDWIDE.”

Ellie ran a hand down her face. “This is so fucking stupid.”

“Someone said—direct quote— that this is ‘the lesbian's Super Bowl.' ”

She paused. “That one might be true tho.”

“Oh, cut the bullshit.”

Ellie grinned, leaning back. “Alright, so what’s the move? Damage control?”

A pause.

“Well…” you said, voice a little too careful, “my manager thinks we should… lean into it.”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

Another pause.

Then, your voice, even softer now. “Can we… talk in person?”

Ellie immediately clocked the hesitation. “Why do I feel like I’m 'bout to get scammed?”

“You’re not! I just… I’d rather explain in person.”

She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “…Fine. Where?”

“My place.”

Ellie frowned. “Why yours?”

“Because there’s paparazzi crammed outside the Four Seasons, dumbass.”

…Fair.

She exhaled. “…Yeah. Alright.”

“Cool. I’ll send you the address.”

A beat. Then—

“…Wait” Ellie muttered. “How the fuck did you get my number?”

Silence.

“…Contacts.”

Ellie’s brows furrowed. “What does that mean? Who—”

“Doesn’t matter.” you cut in, then cleared your throat. “Anyway. Can you, uh… give me my dress back? It was custom.”

“Yeah, about that…”

“…Ellie.”

“It might still be on the floor.”

A sharp inhale. “You little shit.”

Ellie smirked as she pulled out of the parking lot.

“On my way, pop star.”

──────────── Ellie had barely knocked twice before the door swung open.

And there you were.

Standing in the dim light of your penthouse, arms crossed, drowning in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants. Your hair was slightly messy, like you’d been curled up somewhere before she got here, and your skin glowed just right under the soft, golden hue of your apartment lights.

“Hey”

She exhaled, stepping inside as you shut the door behind her. She barely had time to take in the space before she realized—this was money.

The penthouse stretched wide, the kind of design meant to make people feel small. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the city skyline, headlights cutting through the night far below. The furniture was sleek, modern—gray couches, glass tables, designer pieces that looked both expensive and comfortable. A grand piano sat near the window, it's lid closed and a guitar leaning against it, used enough to make Ellie smirk.

But it was the small things that caught her eye. A candle burning low on the counter. A glass of wine next to a notebook cracked open on the coffee table, filled with lyrics. Scribbled, messy. Some lines scratched out, others rewritten in the margins.

“Jesus” she muttered, shoving her hands into her pockets. “Could’ve warned me I was walking into a fucking palace.”

“Says the millionaire.”

Her eyes flicked to you—leaning against the counter, arms crossed, mouth twitching like you were amused by her reaction.

She huffed.

“So.”

The silence stretched, just a little too thick. A weight neither of you wanted to touch.

Then, finally, you exhaled.

“My manager thinks we should fake date.”

Ellie snorted “Yeah, no shit.”

“She says it’ll be good for both of us.”

She hummed, sauntering over to the couch before sinking into it like she owned the place. Her legs spread wide, hands rubbing over her jeans, shoulders sinking into the cushions. She looked up at you, unreadable.

“And? You wanna do it?”

You hesitated. “I don’t know.” Your fingers tapped against the counter, your teeth dragged over your bottom lip. You looked… conflicted. “It’s just—ugh. The thought of staging something like this is so gross.”

You exhaled, tilting your head back. “Pretending to be into you in public? It just feels—”

A beat.

Ellie raised an eyebrow.

You hesitated.

And there it was. The shift.

“Pretending?” she repeated slowly.

You scowled. “You know what I mean.”

Ellie tilted her head, gaze flicking downward—brief, barely there—before dragging right back up like she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Do I?”

Your skin flushed, irritation prickling down your spine. She was too comfortable—slouched on your couch like it was hers, fingers drumming against her knee, wearing that look. That lazy, lopsided smirk that made your stomach clench and your heart do backflips.

You muttered. "Cut the bullshit."

Ellie watched you, green eyes sharp, the corner of her mouth curling like she already knew what you were thinking—like she could see straight through you. And maybe she could.

That was the problem.

Because this wasn’t just some business deal, some harmless PR stunt.

This was Ellie fucking Williams.

A menace. A woman who flirted like it was her second nature. Who carried herself with the kind of reckless confidence that made people love her and hate her in the same breath. She was sharp, fast-mouthed, and annoyingly charming when she wanted to be. She kissed like she had something to prove and fucked like she knew she was amazing at it.

She was the kind that didn’t just leave bruises—that left marks.

And now, you are supposed to pretend to be hers. In public. In pictures. In interviews. She’d make it look effortless, like every lingering touch and stolen glance meant everything.

Meanwhile, you’d have to grit your teeth and pretend she wasn’t already under your skin—pretend you don’t know exactly how this will end.

Ellie’s voice pulled you back.

“We can set rules.”

You blinked, exhaling sharply. “Rules?”

She nodded, resting her elbows on her knees. “Yeah. Lines we don’t cross. Shit we don’t do. Make it easier.”

You considered that. It did make sense. Setting boundaries meant this wouldn’t spiral into a complete disaster—just a controlled one.

“…Fine.”

Ellie grinned, tilting her head. “Great. Rule number one—no catching feelings.”

You scoffed, pushing off the counter and taking a sip of your wine. “Oh, trust me, Williams, that was never a problem.”

What a goddamn lie.

Ellie chuckled, dragging a hand over her jaw before settling back into the couch. She watched you a second too long, eyes flicking over you like she was deciding whether to call you on your bullshit. That fucking grin still lingered—lazy, amused.

She was enjoying this.

You exhaled slowly, setting your wine glass down with a quiet clink. “I got my own rules.”

“Let’s hear ‘em.”

You leveled her with a look. “No strings attached.”

Ellie blinked, then snorted. “Starting off strong.”

“I’m serious,” you said, arms crossing. “No getting weird about anything. We do what we have to do in public, but behind closed doors, it’s our business. No jealousy, no possessiveness.”

Ellie tilted her head, her smirk growing. “So basically, we can do whatever we want?”

You hesitated.

A fraction of a second too long.

Then nodded. “Yeah.”

There was a shift in the air. Subtle, almost imperceptible, but there. Ellie’s eyes dragged over you—slow, measured, her expression unreadable.

“…Can we still fuck, though?”

Your face didn’t waver, but your stomach clenched, a tiny, unwelcome knot forming deep in your gut.

“Yeah. But it doesn’t mean anything.”

The words landed firm, like a line drawn in the sand, but even as you said them, they felt a little off. Like something rehearsed, something you were trying a little too hard to believe.

Ellie let out a low chuckle, shaking her head. “Jesus, babe. You’re ruthless.”

“You got a problem with that?”

“Not even a little.” She stretched out, arms draping over the back of the couch, looking maddeningly at ease. “Just didn’t expect you to be the one setting that rule.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, because deep down, you weren’t sure what would piss you off more—her calling you out on your bullshit, or the fact that she might actually be right.

Ellie hummed. “Fine. No strings attached. What else?”

You rubbed your temple, thinking. “Public stuff needs to be controlled. If we’re going to be seen together, it needs to be intentional.”

Ellie nodded. “So, no sneaky paparazzi pics of us at, like, McDonald’s?”

“Exactly.”

“There goes my dream of getting papped in the drive-thru with you.”

You ignored that. “Next—if one of us wants out, we end it. No bullshit.”

Ellie’s smirk softened slightly. “Fair enough.”

The mood had shifted—just a fraction. You weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a warning sign, but at least your shoulders didn’t feel as tight anymore.

You reached for your wine again. “We also need a reason.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow.

“For why we’re suddenly together,” you clarified.

She considered it for a moment, then shrugged. “Easy. We met through mutual friends, started talking, made it official recently.”

You nodded. “Good. Vague, but believable.”

Then Ellie grinned. “So when’s our anniversary?”

“I’m breaking up with you already.”

Ellie threw her head back, laughing. “Damn. Cold as hell.”

You just smirked, watching the wine swirl in your glass, but the humor faded when Ellie leaned forward slightly, her gaze a little sharper now.

“So, just to recap,” she said, voice steady. “No feelings. No jealousy. We can fuck, but it doesn't mean anything. And if one of us wants out, we’re out.”

“…Yeah.” You swallowed, the weight of it settling between you both. “...Are you actually okay with this?”

Ellie leaned back into the couch, dragging a hand over her jaw.

Was she?

She’d done PR stunts before—appearances, interviews, the occasional fake chemistry for cameras. But a fake relationship? That was a different level of commitment. A different level of risk.

At the same time… she wasn’t exactly in a position to say no. She needed something to get the media off her ass. Headlines about bar fights, reckless behavior, and being a bad influence were piling up like a rap sheet. A carefully controlled narrative—a shiny, clean distraction—might be the only thing that kept her from burning out entirely.

But then…

She looked at you.

Drop-dead gorgeous. Smart as hell. Sharp tongue. A little mean in a way that made people want to prove themselves.

And yeah, sure—this was fake. But Ellie wasn’t fucking stupid. Fake or not, this was the kind of shit that got under her skin, settled in deep and refused to leave.

She’d made plenty of bad decisions before, walked into things knowing exactly how they would end, knowing they’d chew her up and spit her out. That was the thing about trouble. It never felt like trouble in the moment. It started as a game, as a deal, as something simple—until one day, it wasn’t. Until it had its teeth in her, until she was in too deep to pretend she didn’t care.

And this?

This had all the makings of that kind of mistake.

But she still exhaled, still ran a hand through her hair, still met your eyes without hesitation.

“Alright,” you murmured, swirling the wine in your glass before taking a slow sip. Then, with a smirk just shy of reckless—

“This is officially the worst decision of our lives.”

Ellie leaned back like she had all the time in the world, legs spreading wider, her grin all sharp edges. “What you mean? This is already the most stable relationship I’ve ever had.”

You scoffed, reaching for your wine again. “That’s not exactly comforting.”

Ellie shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, babe. The bar is in hell.”

You closed your eyes for a second, exhaled, then took another long drink. “God help me.”

After a few minutes, Ellie reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out a pre-rolled blunt, twirling it lazily between her fingers. She glanced up at you, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips.

“You smoke?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Ellie shrugged, biting the tip of the blunt. “What? It’s part of the rockstar lifestyle.”

You scoffed. “And I’m the popstar, so technically, I should be saying no.”

Ellie pulled out a lighter, flicking it open with a metallic click. “Live a little.”

You exhaled. “Fine. But if TMZ catches me high, I’m blaming you.”

Ellie grinned, bringing the lighter to the tip of the blunt, the paper curling as it burned. She took a slow, practiced drag, holding it deep in her lungs before exhaling smoothly, the smoke swirling toward the ceiling. Then she passed it to you.

You hesitated for a half-second before bringing it to your lips, inhaling. The burn was familiar, settling in your chest before you exhaled, watching the smoke dissipate into the dimly lit room.

Already, the tension from earlier—the ridiculous fake-dating rules, the push and pull of whatever this was—started to fade into something looser, easier.

Ellie watched you, her smirk deepening. “Damn. You’re not new to this.”

You took another hit before passing it back, lips quirking. “Told you. I just have a better PR team than you.”

Ellie chuckled, shaking her head as she took another drag.

Somehow, the conversation had spiraled.

You were both slumped against the couch, trading the last remnants of the blunt back and forth, locked in a heated debate over whether or not you’d survive a zombie apocalypse.

Ellie scoffed, waving a lazy hand. “C’mon, you wouldn’t last a week.”

“Excuse me?” You sat up, pointing at her. “I would absolutely outlive you.”

“You literally have, like, five personal assistants. You don’t even carry your own bags.”

“So? That doesn’t mean I can’t fight!”

Ellie raised an eyebrow, amused. “Alright. How would you kill a zombie?”

You blinked. “...Guns?”

Ellie groaned, shaking her head like you had just personally offended her.

“What?!”

“You’d run out of ammo in, like, a week.”

You crossed your arms. “Okay, smartass. What’s your genius survival plan?”

“Baseball bat. Blunt force trauma. Reusable, no reload time.”

You wrinkled your nose. “That’s so gross.”

Ellie shrugged. “Yeah? So is dying.”

You huffed, sinking back into the couch. “I’m sure that if I were in a zombie apocalypse, I’d be the immune one.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, flicking the blunt towards the ashtray. “Oh, shut up. I'd be the immune one. And the main character.”

You huffed, dramatically flopping back against the couch, exhaling a long, exaggerated sigh. Ellie grinned, stretching her arms behind her head.

“All that contract negotiation made me hungry.”

You snorted, swirling the last sip of wine in your glass. “You literally agreed to everything in under five minutes.”

“Exactly,” Ellie sighed. “Exhausting.”

She pulled out her phone, scrolling. “What’s the most unserious meal we could possibly order right now?”

You barely had to think. “Taco Bell.”

Ellie’s face lit up. “God, I fucking love you.”

You shot her a dry look.

“Platonically. Obviously.”

You rolled your eyes, watching as she tapped aggressively on the app. “What do you want?”

“Crunchwrap Supreme, two Doritos Locos Tacos, and a Baja Blast.”

Ellie blinked. “You didn’t even hesitate.”

“I take my Taco Bell order very seriously.”

Ellie hummed approvingly. “Respect.” She added your order to the already absurd amount of food in her cart and checked out.

By the time the Taco Bell arrived, you were both fully slumped into the couch, heavy-limbed and loose from the high. Ellie tossed the bag onto the coffee table with zero grace, nearly knocking over your very expensive candle.

“Jesus, be careful” you muttered, steadying it.

Ellie unwrapped her burrito with a crinkle of foil, smirking. “What, scared I’ll ruin your rich-person aesthetic?”

You leaned back, exhaling. “Yeah, actually. I have a brand to uphold.”

Ellie huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she took a bite. The two of you ate in a comfortable lull, the only sounds coming from the low hum of music playing from your speaker and the occasional rustle of food wrappers.

In that moment, you felt something you hadn’t felt with anyone in a long time—at ease. Because being with her was effortless.

No need to pose, fake a smile, or worry if your hair was in place. You could just exist. And there was something dangerously comfortable about that, something weirdly domestic. Like slipping into a rhythm you hadn’t even realized you’d been craving.

Ellie spoke suddenly, pulling you back, like the thought had just slipped out before she could decide if it was worth saying.

“So, why’d you start doing music?”

The question landed between you like a weight, unexpected and heavy.

You paused, mid-bite, blinking at her. She wasn’t even looking at you—just lazily pulling apart her quesadilla, like she hadn’t just cracked open something raw and unplanned.

You swallowed, shifting slightly. “I don’t know.”

A beat.

“It’s the only thing I was ever really good at.”

That got her attention. Her fingers stilled against the tortilla, her eyes flicking up—steady, unreadable.

With a quiet sigh, you set your food down. “I mean, growing up, I sucked at everything else. School, sports, whatever—I just never stuck with anything. But music?” You tilted your head, feeling the thought click into place. “That made sense. I liked how it made people feel. You write something, and suddenly, some stranger out there feels understood in a way they didn’t before. Like, for three minutes, they’re not alone.”

Ellie’s chewing slowed, her gaze lingering. “Yeah.” Her voice had dropped, more thoughtful. “That’s kinda the whole point, huh?”

You hummed, watching her. “…What about you?”

She hesitated, then leaned back into the couch, stretching like she was trying to shake something off. “Not that different, honestly.” One arm draped over the backrest, fingers tapping idly against the cushion. “Joel was always into music. Taught me how to play guitar when I was a kid, and it just kinda stuck ever since.”

Your head tilted slightly. “Joel Miller? That’s your dad, right?”

A nod. “Yeah. He’s—” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “—intense. But in a good way, mostly. He gives a shit. Probably more than I deserve.”

Your brows knitted together. “That’s a weird thing to say.”

Ellie let out a quiet chuckle, but it was dry, almost automatic. “Nah. Just being honest.”

Something about the way she said it made your chest feel tight.

You thought about pushing, about pressing your thumb against that tiny crack she’d let slip, but something told you she’d just deflect, maybe make some stupid joke to steer the conversation away.

So, instead, you sighed dramatically, letting the moment pass. “I think I’m too high for all this deep shit.”

Ellie huffed out a laugh. “Same.”

You grinned, swirling your drink. “Okay, new topic—what’s your favorite song?”

Ellie tilted her head, thinking. “Dunno. How’s that one song of yours go? That’s that me espresso?”

The room went still.

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

A deep, soul-crushing betrayal settled in your chest, a wound so profound it might never heal. Your breath caught, fingers gripping your shirt like she had physically stabbed you.

Ellie, still chewing, barely spared you a glance. “What?”

Your hands trembled. “That’s Espresso.”

Your voice dropped an octave. Near-feral.

“BY. SABRINA. CARPENTER.”

Ellie paused mid-bite, brow furrowing. “Wait… that’s not your song?”

Your jaw dropped. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

Ellie shrugged, unbothered. “I mean, y’all sound kinda similar.”

You shot up so fast from the couch it screeched against the floor. “I HOPE YOUR AMP SHORT-CIRCUITS MID-SOLO.”

Ellie’s laughter rang through the room, loud and unbothered. “Jesus. Touch some grass.”

────────────

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the weight of an arm draped over your waist.

The second was the godawful dryness in your mouth, the kind that only came from bad decisions the night before and even worse hydration choices.

Squinting against the morning light, you shifted slightly, trying to piece together where the hell you were. Your head ached, limbs heavy, the air still thick with the scent of weed.

And then, as you turned your head—

Ellie.

Dead asleep beside you.

Face buried in the couch, hair a disaster, breathing slow and steady. One arm thrown over your waist like it belonged there, her entire body half-pressed against yours, radiating warmth. Her tank top had ridden up slightly, exposing just enough of the tattoos trailing down her back to make your already-dysfunctional brain short-circuit.

It should be illegal to look that good while sleeping.

You swallowed hard, painfully aware of the way her fingers twitched slightly against your stomach. Desperate for a distraction, you forced your gaze to the rest of the room.

The coffee table was an absolute crime scene—wrappers, crumpled napkins, open sauce packets, empty Baja Blast cups, and one lonely, half-eaten quesadilla clinging to life.

You groaned softly, rubbing your face, before muscle memory had you reaching for your phone.

And that’s when the real nightmare started.

Rachel (25 Missed Calls, 17 Texts).

Your stomach immediately twisted into knots.

Dreading whatever mess you’d apparently caused, you clicked the messages.

Rachel: WAKE UP Rachel: WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP Rachel: CHECK TWITTER RIGHT NOW.

A cold dread crawled up your spine.

With the kind of slow, creeping horror usually reserved for slasher films, you opened Twitter.

And there it was.

Trending.

#y/nandEllie

#HARDLAUNCHOFTHECENTURY

Your entire body locked up.

“What the fuck?” you croaked, voice barely functioning.

Next to you, Ellie shifted, groaning as her arm tightened around your waist, pulling you in just a fraction before she mumbled into the cushion, voice thick with sleep, “Why’re you talking?”

You didn’t even process the fact that she was literally holding you because you were too busy trying not to pass out.

Instagram. You need to check instagram.

And then you saw it.

Your most recent story.

A photo of Ellie.

Sitting on the couch, head tilted down, scrolling on her phone. Messy hair, tattoos on full display, one leg tucked up like she owned the place. In front of her? The entire ungodly Taco Bell order. Wrappers, bags, napkins—absolute devastation.

And the caption, in bold, unhinged letters:

she eats like a mf frat boy but somehow still looks hot. life is unfair.

One hundred million people have already seen it.

“FUCK!”

Ellie shifted again, her fingers skimming your stomach as she let out a sleepy groan. “Dude” she mumbled. “What now?”

You turned to her, shoving the phone directly in her face, voice pure horror.

“You let me post this?!”

She blinked at the screen. Then blinked again. And then, as if the universe hadn’t already humiliated you enough, she started grinning.

It was slow at first, creeping across her face, her shoulders starting to shake—before she full-on lost it. Ellie fucking cackled. Like, sleep-rough, chest-shaking, burying-her-face-in-the-couch dying.

You smacked her arm. “THIS IS FUCKING SERIOUS!”

She barely lifted her head, still grinning like an absolute menace.

“We smoked another blunt, got drunk, and thought it would be funny.” She stretched lazily and patted your thigh, voice rough with amusement. “So, I guess we’re official now.”

You smacked her again.

────────────

← 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑒 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒 →

taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <333): @st0nerlesb0 @willurms @vahnilla @mancyw1214 @rxreaqia @laceyxrenee @antobooh @tittielover-420 @annoyingpersonxoxo @haithone @lofied @sunflowerwinds @xojunebugxo @reidairie @piscesthepoet @elliewilliamskisser2000 @pariiissssssss @mxquelo @elliesbabygirl @xx2849 @kiiramiz @mikellie @brooks-lin @kaykeryyy @lovely-wisteria @marscardigan @elliesanqel @lovelaymedown @gold-dustwomxn @ilovewomenfr @seraphicsentences @mascspleasegetmepregnant @raindroprose23 @creepyswag @jujueilish @elliesgffrfr @kirammanss @liztreez

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ I HAD SO MUCH FUN W THIS ONE LMAOOO. I went so full out with brainrot memes i realized how much i need to touch some grass. I did like 30 proofreads, but there might still be a few grammar mistakes here and there—sorry in advance, english isn't my first language and I will be happy to receive constructive criticism!.

Please leave a comment if you’re interested in being on the permanent taglist for this series!

see ya'll soon, stay tuned ;)

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ddejavvu · 15 hours ago

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Mean Logan who needs the answer to a question ( you don't have the answer) and decides to ask while he's inside u. Won't move until u answer his question and you're just crying and begging him to move

this post is 18+, minors dni.

He's cruel for asking in the first place, but he's even worse for asking while he's got you sitting in his lap, his cock nestled snugly into your tightly-clenched hole. You're gripping him practically hard enough to bruise, your legs wound around his waist but tensed all the same as your cunt sucks him in. He's rocking you on his hips, bouncing you up and down as you wrap yourself around him, breathing heavily into his shoulder and muffling your moans into his flushed skin.

"You got an answer for me, sweetheart?" Logan asks, and he knows you can feel his vocal chords thrum where you're burrowed into his throat, nosing at his pulse like a vampire about to sink your teeth into him.

You don't so much respond as you do acknowledge, but the humming whine you release into the joint between his neck and his shoulder is distinctly negatory.

"C'mon, you don't know? Who's better, me or Cyclops?"

"That's- He's not- Scott's my friend." You insist, but your body ignites with shame just as much as it does pleasure at the memory of Logan walking in on you and Scott clumsily hooking up. You're not lying, you are friends with him, but sometimes friends get drunk and make poor decisions. Your friendship with Scott survives, but perhaps your pride dies here and now against Logan's queries.

"Oh, it's Scott, is it? That doesn't seem like something you'd be worried about stressing if you were just friends. Come on. I saw it all. He was pathetic. Couldn't even get his pants down right."

That's unfair, mostly because you and Scott were both wasted beyond belief. You're sure Scott could deliver a spectacular performance were he in possession of his fine motor skills, but as it was, his zipper had bested him. Admittedly, it was not your best lay.

"That's not fair." You whine, though whether you're referring to his rampant criticism of Scott or the way that he's interrogating you while you're speared on his cock is unknown even to you. It doesn't seem to matter to Logan, though, because he lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle, one that you feel against your face and your core simultaneously.

When he halts the movement of his hips, leaving your cunt buzzing with the need for the constant stimulation it had just been receiving, you think he meant everything to be rather unfair.

"Well, you'd better figure it out, honey, because you're not cumming until you give me an answer. I'll be here," He shifts his hips, nestling his cock just that much tighter into your hole, "-so you just pry your face out of my neck whenever you're ready to admit it."

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you #logan howlett blurb #logan howlett drabble #logan howlett oneshot #wolverine x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine smut #mean!logan

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amorphine · 13 hours ago

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i think one of the biggest reasons people take their fandom stuff to private self-regulated and self-governed spaces like discord is that it allows you to have conversations among friends who will not judge you and hear you out if you have a controversial take on something. saying stuff in public opens you up for people taking everything you say in bad faith and shaming you for any perceived transgression. i'm in a private discord server that's focused on thirsting over a particular kpop group, and one wrong person got in there and then wrote a long list of everyone in that server, with their tumblr names and all their transgressions and posted it on tumblr and twitter, shaming those people for "sexualizing" these grown ass men. that person was kicked out of the server and it's now a nice and friendly space where people can talk about their lives to friends and be horny for the members of kpop group ateez in peace. can't kick them out of tumblr. the call out post exists now with a long list of names to be shamed for engaging in fandom in a way that they deem immoral, calling for harrassment of those people. in a puritanical call out culture like that i really don't find it surprising that people prefer private spaces where they don't have to worry about getting attacked. it's a bummer that tumblr isn't what it used to be but we made it like that.

I think a lot of people are forgetting that on tumblr fandom used to be practiced very differently. now everyone fucks off to their discords or tumblr groups to discuss everything with a select few, making tags be nearly only used for posting some finished fanworks or not at all

a decade ago people didn't have tumblr groups. people didn't even have dms. if you wanted to talk to anyone about anything you had to make a post, or send an ask (which more often than not would get published and thereby become a post in the end too)

so next time you think "I have a fandom thought but I have to find a small group of hyperspecifically like-minded people to share it with in private" remember all the freaks you could be missing out on meeting by keeping the tags dead. use tags, make friends. fuck discord.

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tmasc-confessions · 2 days ago

Note

I read a post once where this person wore a suit to their choir concert and this woman was like “omg!! girl power!! Ur so brave for wearing a suit” and the person was like “I’m nonbinary” and the woman’s whole demeanor and face changed and she became disgusted

I can’t find the post rn but wow it’s so horrible to think that kind of stuff happens like it’s somehow more “progressive” or “transgressive” to be a girl wear a suit than just being a nonbinary person wearing a suit and existing but idk

I mean, just a few days ago a post was going around implying that being a masc-presenting woman was "more transgressive" than being a trans man, and I've also seen a lot of people shaming transhet trans men when they praise cis lesbians.

It's weird. I don't like it. They clearly just don't like us.

#tmasc vents #antitransmasculinity #transandrophobia #transmisandry #exorsexism #🪼

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beeari · 19 hours ago

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Feliz día de Andalucía 💚🤍💚

Por Andalucía libre, los pueblos y la humanidad ‼️

I'm four days late but I wanted to draw something for this special day, and what better that the boys I'm hyper fixated on engaging in my culture.🦐

So this is your sign to draw the boys engaging in your culture ig.

Just in case there's any confusion jack is not dressed as a member of the kkk.

He is wearing my take on penitente attire, typica in a catholic festivity.

#lord of the flies #lotf #lotf fandom #lotf fanart #lotf jack #lotf ralph #lotf piggy #lotf simon #lotf roger #andalucia #dia de andalucia #28 february #I wanted to draw jack as a torero but i dont have to balls to do so #real shame #ill maybe make another post about ocs #💚🤍💚#culture #celebrating my culture #Spotify

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tateypots · 1 day ago

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New Tricks

18+ MDNI

Pairing: Dark!Joel Miller x f!reader, Dark!Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Part 8 of Collared. Same as before, it’s dark so please heed the warnings and skip if it’s not for you.

Ok so, I know I promised blow jobs for everyone but this part was getting a bit too long so it's blow jobs for 1, but don't worry no one is neglected in this chapter!

Moodboard is for aesthetics only, reader is not described beyond having boobs and a vagina. Please refer to this post for more info on the series mooboards.

Summary: Tommy's wants to teach you something new.

Warnings: Non-Con, dark Joel, dark Tommy, kidnapping, daddy kink, uncle kink, restraints, stockhom syndrome, oral (m!receiving), unprotected piv, cum play. Let me know if I missed anything.

Part 7 | Series Masterlist

True to his word, Tommy doesn’t force himself on you again, granting you the reprieve you had begged for. He scoots back so he’s sitting with his back against the headboard, you situated in his lap as he talks to you about the kind of books you like, “just want to make sure I get you something you’ll enjoy princess,” he tells you when you’re too shy to open up to him initially.

It feels strange to be spoken to like this. For someone to take an interest. It had been so long since anyone had shown you that kind of consideration. Even before the outbreak. But as you settle into it you realise how nice it is. You fight with yourself again. Try to remind yourself that you are his prisoner. You’re literally bound and naked in his lap. But he’s being kind and sweet, even though he doesn’t have to be. You have to give him credit for that surely? He could have ignored your pleas for a break from his lustful advances. He could have just left you alone to go and sort out the boner he’s been sporting since earlier. But he didn’t. He sat with you, made sure you were ok, made you smile and giggle at his silly stories and goofy antics.

You realise with surprise that you enjoy his company. You enjoy sitting and talking with him. Lounging in his lap with his arms around you. Warm and safe. You want to luxuriate in it. But it doesn’t take long for another feeling to creep in. Guilt. Your mind flits to Joel. Why does enjoying sitting with Tommy feel like a betrayal? It’s stupid. Especially when it was Joel who had sent you into Tommy’s arms with a firm pat on the backside. When he’s watched Tommy fuck you time and time again and never been bothered by it.

You try again to remind yourself of your situation. Of all the things they’ve done to you. To keep your head out of the clouds and your wits about you. But the other half of your traitorous brain argues, what about all the things they’ve done for you. Fed you, housed you, kept you safe. It was only fair that you gave something in return right? Your mind flits back to the image of Joel bursting in and rushing to you, to protect you, and the cautious, rational side of you is silenced by the force of Joel’s concern. The way he’d swept you up, cradled you against his big strong body. It made the breath hitch in your throat and your temperature rise. Suddenly you’d give anything to be sat in Joel’s lap right now.

As if your thoughts had summoned him, the front door opens and Joel comes inside out of the cold. He looks over at you, wrapped up in Tommy’s arms. His face remains neutral but his gaze makes you squirm, has your face heating with shame you know you shouldn’t be feeling. He shucks off his coat and throws it on the hook by the door before slumping down on the old, worn sofa with a groan.

“Wha’s for dinner Tom, s’your turn.”

“Got that venison, was gona do a stew. Let me grab a shower first and then I’ll get started.”

He nudges you off his lap and climbs off the bed, leaning over to give you a little kiss on the tip of your nose before disappearing into the bathroom. Your lips twitch upwards involuntarily at the sweet gesture before quickly dropping as Joel heaves a large sigh, his head tipped back, eyes closed, finger and thumb pinching at the bridge of his nose.

“Are you ok Daddy?” you ask him quietly.

He drops his hand back to his thigh as he raises his head up and opens his eyes to look at you. Your heart skips a beat and your breath hitches in your throat at having his attention on you. As always your body reacts to him before your brain can catch up.

“I’m ok baby, just tired.”

You want to go and cuddle up to him so badly, wrap yourself around him and help make him feel better. The urge is not entirely new but it seems as though your whole world has done a complete 180 today and the ground beneath you feels shaky and unsure. Are you allowed to make such requests? Are you allowed to initiate physical contact? He told you earlier he expected you to be a good girl with no guidance on what that meant. You hesitate a beat before the question tumbles out of you, “can I sit with you Daddy?” You’re nervously biting down on your bottom lip, afraid you might have overstepped.

He sees the nerves on your face and takes a moment to savour it. How far you’d surrendered yourself to him. The sweetest victory he’d ever had. He doesn’t leave you hanging for long, aching to feel your softness against him.

“Course you can baby, come here.”

You release the breath you hadn’t even realised you were holding. You climb off the bed and scurry over to him on the sofa. He offers no instruction to you once you reach him, eager to see what you will do. Sit next to him on the couch? Perch yourself on his lap? He knows which he’d prefer but his ego wants you to choose it for yourself. Choose him for yourself.

You fidget with your fingers for a minute until it becomes clear he’s not going to tell you where to sit. You throw caution to the wind, surprising yourself and him when you fully straddle him, pressing your body along his, getting as close as you can and resting your head on his shoulder, arms around his neck.

Only when you feel the tension leaving him and his arms wrapping around you do you relax fully into him. He whispers gently in your ear, “hi baby.”

“Hi Daddy,” you murmur back. A calmness settles over your entire body, your heartrate dropping leaving your brain hazy and your limbs heavy. All from his proximity. His huge frame wrapping around you, his heat seeping into you through his clothes. You wish he was naked, that you could feel his skin against yours. You’re too lost in the sensation to realise how alarmed you should be at your body’s reaction to him. Instead you let out a little hum of contentment when he rests his cheek on your forehead, the bristles of his beard rasping over your skin.

“Did you have fun with Uncle Tommy? No more mishaps?”

“We talked about books, it was nice,” you mutter, “but…”

“But what baby?” he asks you sternly, wondering what Tommy had done to you this time and preparing to give him hell for it.

You bite your lip feeling Joel tense underneath you. “I missed you Daddy,” you breathe out, “I wish you had stayed with me.” Your face heats once again with shame at your confession and you bury it in his shoulder. You can’t believe how far you’ve sunk for this man. But you need to let him know. The guilt from him seeing you happy in Tommy’s arms is eating you alive, you need him to know you’d rather it had been him.

He relaxes under you and squeezes you tighter to him, beaming with pride. His plan had worked out better than he could have hoped.

“Yeah, my good girl missed her Daddy?”

You nod against his shoulder, “mmmhmmm,” you hum out to him.

“Oh baby, I missed you too,” he tells you, his big hand cupping your side, his thumb gently stoking your back. He plants a kiss on your temple and you preen at his attention. You turn your head to look up at him, giving him a shy smile that makes his dick twitch against your exposed core. God he wants to flip you on to your back and fuck your brains out. Feel that tight pussy wrapped around him. But he knows you’re still a little uncertain despite all the progress he’s made. He knows if he’s patient one day you’ll wake up so irrevocably his you’d do anything he asked without hesitation. So instead he plants a kiss on your forehead and pulls you back into the crook of his neck. The ups and downs of the day catch up with you and lulled by the comfort and safety you feel, you swiftly doze off once more in Joel’s arms.

You settle back into your routine with almost alarming ease. They pick back up fucking you the very next day but they always make sure you finish before they do. They are kind and gentle with their aftercare and the affection you once hated is now cherished. They treat you more like a person rather than just a toy to be used then put away in the corner until they want to play with you again. They ask about your life, what books and films you liked, what foods you liked, what hobbies you had. After dinner you invariably curl up in one of their laps. You wish it could be Joel’s every night.

You no longer cry every time they fuck you, but occasionally the tears do still fall. But whenever the voices in your head start to get too loud and judgemental you think back to what Joel had told you. Survival is all that mattered now and you had to do whatever it took to ensure you did. And with no small amount of pain and discomfort you admitted to yourself that in this new world all you had to offer was what was between your legs.

But you were smart. You could learn. And who better to learn from than the two men currently keeping you safe? Tommy had agreed to get you a book. You hoped that in time, if you could show them how good you could be for them that they might be willing to do other things for you. Teach you about hunting and foraging and weapons. It was a pipe dream at best but it gave you something to cling on to. Something to start dragging yourself out of the depths with.

With this new hope the harsh voice of your father telling you how worthless you are, that you’re nothing but a harlot and a whore starts to fade and through the quiet a new, warmer voice starts to come through. A voice that tells you that sometimes all you can do is make the best of a bad situation. That even when it seems you have no control, you can control how you react. And there is power in that. As you’d gotten older and more aware, you started to realise what your mom had meant by that. And in a moment of startling clarity you realised that Joel and Tommy were treating you with more kindness than your father had ever treated her.

You were still mulling over this latest revelation when you heard Tommy’s door open. You watched as he wandered over to the old sofa and plopped himself down on it, morning wood straining his boxers.

“Come ‘ere princess,” he instructed, beckoning you over with his index and middle fingers. The familiar action sent a shiver through you and your pussy throbbed. You’d never seen him do it before but you’d felt it many, many times.

Confused you climbed out of bed and made your way over to him, your chain clanking behind you. Once you were close enough he grabbed you by the hips to position you between his spread thighs. His hands snaked behind you to grab hold of your ass. He looked up at you as he gently kneaded the fleshy globes.

“Gona teach you somethin’ new today Princess. Whaddya say, ready to learn some new tricks?”

Absolutely not you thought to yourself, not that it mattered, you knew it would be happening either way. And you knew this was the perfect opportunity to start showing how good you could be for them. So you swallowed your hesitation, almost choking on your instinct to resist. Instead you meekly replied, “yes Uncle Tommy.”

“Good girl.”

You’re distracted from him removing his boxers by the sound of Joel’s bedroom door opening, the man himself sauntering out into the main room. You pinch yourself when your heart skips a beat at the sight of him, a new tactic you had adopted to try and keep yourself grounded around him. Your arms and thighs were now littered with bruises of your own making, right alongside the ones you got from them. You knew you were fighting a losing battle; that you’d turn to putty for him the second he put his hands on you. But for now he seems content to watch, pulling out a chair from the dining table and settling in so he has a good view of you between Tommy’s legs.

“Did I miss anything?”

“Nah, we’re just gettin’ started ain’t we Princess,” Tommy replies, drawing your attention back to him. “Daddy wants a show honey, let’s give him somethin’ to think about hmm?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever is coming and nod, not trusting your voice.

“Good girl, on your knees then Princess.”

You sink to your knees keeping your eyes on Tommy so you don’t give in the temptation to look over your shoulder at Joel. You still feel uneasy when Tommy is touching you, can’t shake the guilt that courses through you when you enjoy it. You know Joel could stop it if he wanted but he is content sitting in his chair watching. He doesn’t care, so why do you?

Tommy cups you face and gently strokes your cheek, his other hand pumping his cock.

“You know what a blow job is princess?”

You nod your head, biting your bottom lip to stop it from quivering.

“Oh yeah? So naughty princess, I thought you were a good girl.”

“My friend showed me a video once, I didn’t want to watch Uncle Tommy, I had to shut my eyes, she wouldn’t shut it off,” you frantically explained, the memory sending anxiety zipping through your body, stealing your breath and making tears prick at your eyes. You had been so scared that your dad would somehow know what you’d done when you got home, that he would somehow have a sixth sense that you had been looking at sexual things on Claire’s older brothers computer. He had already thought that Claire was a bad influence.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes you, cupping your face in his big hand, “I was only teasing princess, I know you’re a good girl. You ain’t in trouble, its ok, you’re ok. Take a big, deep breath for me sugar, that’s it.”

You do as he says and try to ground yourself back in the present. Your dad isn’t here. And the man who is about to put his penis in your mouth has already put it inside you elsewhere countless times, so even if he was, your indiscretion with a friend long dead would be the least of his concerns.

A few more deep breaths and you manage to take control of yourself again, Tommy praises you with a “good girl.” It makes you happy to hear it, even if it doesn’t have quite the same effect as when Joel says it.

“Right, now, we’re gona go real slow. Nothin’ to be scared of. Just gona get you used to having him in your mouth, let you get a feel for him ok?”

“Ok.” You take another deep breath and mentally prepare yourself. You can do this. You can be a good girl for them. Win them over and convince them to teach you how to survive in this horrible world.

You look at Tommy’s cock. You’ve never been this close before. He’s hard as a rock, jutting up from a patch of black curls at the base. You watch the skin shift around his shaft as his hand strokes steadily up and down the length of it, occasionally sweeping over the weeping mushroom head. Now that you’re this close you marvel at the size. You wonder how it manages to fit inside you.

“Why don’t you give him a kiss princess, right on the tip.”

He holds his cock steady in his hand as you lean forward, putting your hands on his thighs to brace yourself. You dip forward and place a little kiss on the head, gasping as the bead of pre-cum that leaked out just as you connected smears across your lips.

“That’s it good girl. Clean off those lips now princess, give it a taste.”

You do as you are told and your tongue swipes over your lips, your nose scrunching slightly at the salty flavour. Tommy chuckles lowly at you. “It’s an acquired taste princess, you’ll get used to it,” he tells you, “go on and give the slit a little lick and then wrap your lips around the head.”

You don’t hesitate, reminding yourself what’s at stake. Even if they won’t teach you, you need to secure your place with them, that little nugget of fear still holding tight in your chest. You give the slit a little kitten lick, collecting more of his salty pre-cum on the tip of your tongue before taking the bulbous head of his cock in your mouth and sealing your lips around it. Out of instinct and curiosity you run your tongue around it, earning you a deep throated groan from Tommy and his head tips back onto the sofa.

“Fuck that’s it princess, keep doin’ that, you’re a goddamn natural.”

You let your tongue explore his tip. You decide that the taste isn’t too bad. Definitely not good but better than you had been expecting. Manageable. You think back to that blasted video that had frightened the life out of you, trying to remember everything you could from what you had watched before closing your eyes. You tentatively bring your hand up to wrap around the base of his cock and gently pump like you had seen him doing. You keep your grip loose, too afraid to hold tighter in case you hurt him but it earns you another moan from Tommy and you want to burst with pride.

Buoyed by your success you slide a little more of him into your mouth, letting your tongue explore further. You feel him twitch inside your mouth when your tongue sweeps over a bump on the underside of his cock and you panic and pull back but before you can pull off his cock completely, his hand is on the back of your head, gentle but insistent, pushing you back down his cock, further again than you were before.

“You’re doing so good princess, Jesus, fuck!”

His hands are now cupping both sides of your face as he guides you backwards and forwards on his dick. "Suck for me honey, hollow those cheeks.”

You do as he says, settling back into it, the rhythm of the movements helping to calm your nerves. His hands drop from your head and you keep up the movements, shallowly bobbing your head up and down.

“That’s it princess, just like that. Look so fucking good with my cock in your mouth.”

His hand moves to yours, gently removing it from around his cock and lifting it to his mouth. You flinch when he spits into it, the warmth of his saliva spreading over your palm. He guides you back to wrap around him, his hand sealing over yours. The grip is tighter now with his hand wrapped around yours and he guides it up and down, in time with your bobbing head.

Your jaw begins to ache and the build up of saliva in your mouth is now unpleasantly running down your chin. But you keep going, pushing through your discomfort to keep your hopes alive. He twitches again in your mouth but you don’t let it spook you this time. You realise his other big hand is now wrapped around his balls. You look up at him and the second your eyes meet he lets out the biggest groan of the morning.

“Gona make me cum princess, better pull off if you don’t want a mouthful.”

You do as he says and detach from him. You hear Joel get up from his seat behind you as Tommy drops your hand from around his cock and begins pumping furiously with his own.

“Where?”

“Tits,” Joel demands as he kneels behind you and reaches round to grab the underside of a tit in each hand and squish them together for Tommy, his fingers flicking and tweaking your nipples sending pangs of delight through you.

“Fuuuuuuuuck!” Tommy comes loudly, hot ropes of his spend spurting from his cock and landing all over your chest and tits. He pants as the last few drops escape his tip, and he slumps back on the sofa.

Before you even register what’s happening, Joel is bending you forward into Tommy’s lap and knocking your knees apart. He barrels into you with a howl and yanks you back up to him, his hands grabbing at your cum covered tits.

“So fucking hot baby, watching you suck that cock. Watching you get painted. Fuck,” he growls in your ear as he pummels your pussy, hard and fast like a man possessed. His mouth latches over his mark just above your collar and he sucks and nips at his discoloured claim.

You struggle to catch your breath with the way he is pounding into you but you’re on cloud nine, feeling his body against you, wrapped up tight in his arms as he marks you as his. Your wanton moans meld with his primal grunts and the hard slapping of skin against skin.

You can do nothing in this position, you look for something to hold on to but his big hand is latched tightly around your tit leaving you only his thumb to grab onto. It still takes up your whole hand, the size difference leaving you light headed. Your other hand reaches forward and lands on Tommy’s thigh, slipping through the mess that transferred from your body when Joel pushed you into him.

Tommy’s hand lands on top of yours, helping to keep you steady. Your head lolls back onto Joel’s shoulder and through blurry eyes you see Tommy leaning forward. His fingers connect with your clit and start rubbing perfect little circles into the sensitive little bud. It’s enough to hurl you off the cliff into the abyss, your whole body seizing with the force of your orgasm.

“Yes, that’s it, fuck baby, cum. Cum for Daddy and Uncle Tommy, such a good fucking girl.”

Their pace never falters, prolonging your high until it almost feels unbearable. You slump in Joel’s arms, completely boneless as he finally pours into you, singing praises for your perfect pussy. You hear him panting behind you, feel him clutch you tighter to him. He kisses up and down your neck, so gentle now in comparison to the brute force he fucked you with.

You’re dazed, body still tingling from your orgasm. You whimper out a soft “Daddy,” and his arms tighten again.

“I’m here baby, I got you. Took it so good for me, such a good girl. Daddy’s gona take care of you now, don’ need to worry about a thing.”

You let your eyes drift closed, reassured by his soft words. You don’t know how much time has passed when you feel him pull out of you, feel him lift you as you cling on to him. Feel your collar being removed. It’s not until he puts you down and you feel warm water that you realise you’re in the bath. He lets you lean against him as he gently cleans you up, murmuring praises to you the entire time.

He dries you off and places you back on your bed. You whimper and grab for him. He gets the hint and climbs on the bed with you, spooning you from behind.

“It’s ok baby, I’ll stay for a little bit, you go to sleep now, get some rest.”

You fall asleep almost immediately. You’ve no idea how long you’ve been asleep when you waken but Joel has gone and your collar is back in place. You groan and roll over and there on your pillow is an old, worn out paperback. You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face as you reach for it. You open the front cover and there on the title page is a hand written note:

From Uncle Tommy for his princess xx

@aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @oldloganslittleslut @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @axshadows @justajoelsreader @ahintofkiwistrawberry @guelyury @rosebuds-and-moonlight @koshkaj-blog @shivispunk @ivoryandflame @tammythr @magpiepills @deviscave @megjohnston23 @pedrosgrogu @pedge-page @guelyury

#dark!joel miller #dark!tommy miller #collared fic #tw kidnapping #tw noncon #tw manipulation #joel miller x f!reader #tommy miller x f!reader #smut #pedro pascal #gabriel luna

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igorluvr · 1 day ago

Text

‘T.O.P SECRET

PAIRING: choi seung hyun (T.O.P) x black!reader

SYNOPSIS: hiding a relationship with a popular k-pop idol was hard enough, with paparazzi constantly following and fans obsessed with him. would you be able to deal with it, or crack under pressure?

CONTENT: aggravating fans, negative self talk, fluff so sweet you’ll get a cavity, "mamas" (im sorry guys i love it)

AUTHORS NOTE: the instagram portion is heavily inspired by @rosones‘s “being an actress dating choi seunghyun” fics, pleaseeee go check them out !!!

word count: [1.2k]

EVERYTHING was starting to get to you. Having to be hidden by the man you wanted to marry was exhausting and genuinely taking a toll on your mental. The two of you met 4 years ago, with you being a backup dancer for one of his biggest music videos.

Your sweet personality and captivating look immediately caught his eye. The way you carried yourself made his heart flip, he knew you were the one. After filming was done, he asked you out to dinner and it was wraps from there.

Meeting Seung-hyun was the best thing that happened to you. Well it was, until a year into your relationship. As the days you were together increased, you wanted to show off your boyfriend more. You knew you couldn’t and that ate you alive.

Seeing everyone getting posted and taken out by their boyfriends always put a bad feeling in your stomach, knowing that could never be you. Sometimes you wish that he was a regular guy, that people wouldn’t bombard him with questions everytime he went out and that his fans weren��t bat shit crazy.

You knew how harsh the k-pop industry was, and wanted no part in it. Some idols were getting publicly shamed just for relationship rumors, so what would the people say if they knew you were together for almost half a decade?

It wasn’t his fault, but it affected how you acted towards him. You found yourself getting random attitudes to him—not wanting to talk when he tells you how you can’t go on cute dates, and overall just being cold. One day, in particular, was way worse than usual.

It was the morning of valentine’s day, your 5th together, and you couldn’t shake the sick feeling you had. Everywhere you looked was filled with couples. Your social media, stores, the streets— you couldn’t escape it.

Now you weren’t one to be ungrateful, but having to stay hidden on a day where couples were meant to be shown off made you feel a type of way. You wanted nothing more than to be flaunted by Seung-hyun. This was the man you wanted to marry, and you wanted everyone to know.

Getting out of bed, you saw that he was nowhere in sight. Not in the room, bathroom, living room, or kitchen. Heading back to your shared room, you picked up your phone and went to text Seung-hyun. Surprisingly, though, there was already a message from him.

mybaby💋 • 1m ago

goodmorning princess, come to the guest room. happy valentine’s day ❤️

You were confused by the message, still being dazed by the sleepiness weighing on you. Leaving your shared room, you dragged your feet to the unused guest room, which was all the way on the other side of the house

The both of you had a shared home, which was rather large due to him wanting to have space for his group and occasional parties. You didn’t object, not caring about the size. But it was times like this when you really regretted your decision.

After what felt like an endless walk through the hallways decorated with bright colors and pictures of happy times the both you shared, you finally arrived at the guest room. You sleepily opened the door, and as you stepped inside, you were greeted by a sight that left you speechless.

The room was adorned with an array of crimson red balloons, each hovering slightly above the ground. They wavered slightly from the faint breeze from the windows, their shiny surfaces reflecting the soft, warm light that shone in from the sunrise. Delicate rose petals scattered across the hardwood floor formed a path toward the center of the room.

At the end of the room, there were silver balloons hovering above the lounge couch spelling out 'i love you' in cursive. The way the chords echoed around the room made your heart swell with a mixture of surprise and overwhelming emotion. The whole scene made you want to burst out in tears, you were so lucky to have someone like him in your life.

Seung-hyun stood by the words holding a glittery bouquet of flowers, looking as handsome as ever with a gentle smile that made your insides flutter. “Happy Valentine’s Day love.” he spoke softly, voice almost drowned out by the music.

You could barely speak, nothing coming out but girly giggles and laughs. The effort he put into making this day special flooded your mind with warmth, overtaking your earlier frustrations. Everything about the setup felt so intimate, you could really tell how much time and effort he put into it.

“Seung-hyun, this is… it’s beautiful.” you finally managed to say, eyes watering as you walked into the room. You stepped over the rose petals, feeling a bittersweet twinge of happiness mixed with the indifference of knowing you couldn't show anyone how happy you were.

“I wanted to do something special for you, just for today,” he said, moving toward you to take your hands in his. “You deserve the world. I hate that we have to keep our love a secret, but I want you to know how much you mean to me, especially on days like this.”

Tears gathered at the bottom of your eyes, threatening to spill out.. You knew he cared, you really did, but the guilt of feeling like a secret in his life made it all so complicated. “I just wish…” you started, voice shaky, “I just wish we could be open about us. I want to show everyone how amazing you are, how much I love you.”

He took a step closer, the warmth radiating from him somehow able to calm the emotions raging inside you. “I know baby, but this is how it has to be right now. I promise, one day we can be public about everything. You just have to trust me a little longer.”

Closure seemed so far away. You nodded, wiping at your eyes before flashing him a small smile, not wanting your feelings to overshadow the wonderful effort he’d put into today. “Okay. I trust you.”

“Let’s enjoy the day together, okay? I have a lot planned.” A wide smile spread across his face as he lead you out of the room, leaving you to wonder just what he had in mind.

As the day went on, you went to various places enjoying each others presence. He took you all around town to the most private, romantic spots. You loved when he did this, it showed how much he cared for you, but there was a pit in your stomach that couldn’t seem to go away.

On your anniversary, the day started with the two of you waking up wrapped in each other’s arms, sunlight beaming through the curtains, emphasizing all the intricate details and curves on his face. You couldn't shake the feeling that today would be different, something about it felt special, almost electric.

After making you breakfast, Seung-hyun insisted on keeping the day's plans a surprise. He carefully arranged everything to ensure it would be the happiest day of your life, one you spent all with him. You found yourself growing more excited the more he gave little hints about what was to come.

The first stop was a remote hillside cabin that he rented for the weekend. Burrowed among the trees, the cabin was completely surrounded by nature, giving you the peace and quiet he knew you loved. When you stepped inside, the cabin was filled with soft music, candles adorned the tables, flickering slightly. In the center of the room you were met with your favorite dish on both sides of a small table.

“Welcome to our place, baby” he said, sneaking up behind you to place a kiss on your shoulder "Just us." There was no hiding the smile that grew on your face, you could barely believe how thoughtful he was to create such a romantic setting just for you.

The two of you spent the morning walking through the beautiful trails that spread out through the woods, taking in the vibrant colors of the scattered leaves as they crunched under your feet. Seung-hyun held your hand tightly, occasionally pulling you in to exchange soft kisses, transporting you to world that felt entirely your own.

After the hike, he led you back to the cabin where he had a picnic set up inside, laid out on a beautifully woven blanket. A bottle of chilled wine sat on the cover, alongside an assortment of expensive cheeses, fruits, and pastries. You both settled comfortably on the floor, commenting on the rustic scenery and sharing stories and laughter. The sound of the wind blowing through the trees outside was a soundtrack to the love that surrounded you.

He urged you to put on a dress, a beautiful white one— saying it would make the picnic that more romantic. After a few minutes of going back and forth, you decided to just put it on. You knew how stubborn he was and if it made his enjoy the dinner more, you'd do it regardless.

As the sun slowly lowered in the sky to sink lower in the sky, casting a warm golden shadow through the cabin windows, Seung-hyun suggested to watch your favorite movie. Claiming it would be a good way to end the day, you agreed and settled down to start the film.

Halfway through, though, you noticed Seung-hyun glancing at you more than he was watching the film. His intense gaze sent a rush of warmth through you, and you smiled softly, hoping to encourage him to share whatever was on his mind. Just as the romantic climax of the movie approached, he paused the screen and turned to face you, his expression suddenly serious. “Can we talk for a moment?”

“Of course,” you replied, intrigued and a little anxious about what he was going to say. Pulling away slightly, he sat up and looked deeply into your eyes. “You know how much you mean to me, right?” His tone was somber and genuine, wrapping you in immediate comfort.

“More than anything” you muttered, heart racing.

“Good,” he said, nodding, his gaze unwavering. “Because I’ve been thinking about us, about our future, and how much I want to make it real.” He looked at you with a slight smile on his face, eyes unable to tear from you like a magnetic force locked his gaze onto yours.

Your breath caught in your throat, nervousness creeping to the surface as you anticipated what was coming. “What do you mean?” You could hardly keep the tremor from your voice.

Seung-hyun reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. Your heart began to race even faster, an overwhelming mix of joy and disbelief swirling within you.

“I've never thought about marriage until five years ago when I met you. It’s like you flipped a switch in my brain, and suddenly, all I could think about was wanting to spend the rest of my life with you. I know we've had to keep things a secret, but I'm ready to tell the whole world about you. I want to build a life together, no more hiding or secrets.” he said, his voice calm but warm. “Let’s take this step so we can finally just be… us. Out in the open.”

With trembling hands, he opened the box, revealing a delicate silver ring that sparkled under the candlelight—an intricate design with a single gem at its center. The ring sparkled underneath the lights, losing you in it's beauty. “Will you marry me?”

Tears streamed down your face as a wave of emotions crashed over you. You weren’t just overwhelmed by the proposal, but by the amount of love and commitment in his eyes. You wouldn't have to hide how you felt, you wouldn't be a secret anymore.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, your voice breaking as you nodded fervently. “I'd love to marry you baby”

He slipped the ring onto your finger, and the moment it settled in place, you felt an overwhelming rush of joy. Seung-hyun scooped you into his arms, spinning you around as laughter spilled out of you and echoes off the walls of the cabin. He finally set you down, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the world outside, not the secrets, not the complications. Just the two of you, finally stepping into the light together.

“I love you so much,” he murmured as he pulled you into his arms, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ve waited for this day forever.”

“I love you more,” you replied, heart racing, blossoming before you in vibrant colors. You melted against his touch, the future flashing through your mind in a golden glow.

Time seemed irrelevant in that moment as you bathed in the warmth of his touch. Here in your hidden sanctuary, a place created just for the two of you, nothing else mattered. Your love story was just beginning, and you couldn’t wait to write the next chapter together.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you mamas” he whispered, standing up to pull you into his arms.

You buried your face in his shoulder, laughter and tears intertwining in a beautiful melody. In that moment, all the worries and fears faded away. Seung-hyun whipped out his phone and went straight to instagram.

"Can't wait to show u off baby, been waiting for this for years" The typing on his phone intensified as his smile grew wider by the second. You drifted off to sleep in his arms as the soft sound of his fingers tapping against the screen rocked you to a peaceful sleep.

When you finally woke, sunlight beamed through the leaves of the trees surrounding your home, casting playful patterns on the ground. Seung-hyun slept beside you, chest rising up and down with each breath he took. He was so at peace, and it made your heart swell all over again.

There was a constant 'bzzzz' coming from your nightstand, causing you to tiredly snatch your head in the direction of it. For some reason, your phone was blasting with notifications. Opening it, you were met with an instagram post from your very own fiancé.

@.ttt ✓

♫ Daniel Caesar • Blessed

ttt my beautiful fiancé

liked by xxxibgdrgn and others

view comments…

@.seunghyunswifey wait are we so serious rn??

@.5bigbangs chat this is me like fr

@.liyahsarchives she’s so pretty i can’t even hate

@.than0sworlddd I mean she’s okay..

@.daeholuvr okay let’s see ur face then !!

@.iheartkenshin so happy for them omgg

Reading the comments gave you a whirlwind of emotions. While most were supportive and happy for your relationship, there were others that weren’t as joyful. They called you names, degraded you, even wished the worse on your marriage. You knew they were just crazy fans, but it still hit the deepest part in your heart.

Still, you were thankful for this. Being public about your engagement had its prices to pay, and this was just one of them. No matter how bad it gets, no amount of hate would overpower your love for Seung-hyun.

Looking over at him sleeping peacefully in bed, the morning sun radiating off of his face, brought you comfort. As long as you had him, everything would be okay.

#squid game #choi su bong #thanos x reader #choi su bong x reader #player 230 #player 230 x reader #choi seunghyun #choi seunghyun x reader #top #top x reader #t.o.p bigbang #t.o.p #t.o.p x reader #bigbang #big bang #choi seung hyun x reader #choi seunghyun bigbang #kpop #kpop fanfic

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