#well at least i’m not into rpf | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xeeljii · 27 days

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CURRENTS ⋆⭒˚.⋆

PART 1: New Person, Same Old Mistakes

WARNING! Explicit RPF!

Summary: You and Joost were never lovers, never friends but something in the middle that ended up hurting more, you meet again years later and many things have changed but others stay the same.

Word count: 4.9k

CW: 18+, f! reader, friends with benefits, mentions of past sex, jealousy, angst, rekindling (?)

The fall had been hard and fast as much as you didn’t want it to. Joost was cute and funny, killer combo and you had great chemistry in bed, cherry on top. The problem was that he had just gotten out of a committed relationship and was not looking for that again, good, cool, totally fine, neither were you. That is what your twenties are for just, casual sex and silly mistakes and he was perfect for that, until it wasn’t so perfect. Because again, he was very cute and very funny and you could lie to yourself about your feelings only for so long before they became unbearable like an invisible hand slowly choking you.

You and Joost had met one of those days where he had been jumping around from bar to bar getting wasted seeing where he would end the night to avoid ending at his own place all alone again. He had told you you caught his eyes because you had such a pretty face, but in truth he just liked your laughter, you had been with a group of friends and the sweet sound of it kept calling to him like a siren song. He had finally built courage to approach you. You were very beautiful but more than that you were fun, he liked that, he felt like he could talk to you for hours without it getting tiring but also he was very curious to know what you looked like underneath all your pretty clothes so after seeing the way you kept blushing when his eyes lingered on you he bluntly asked.

“Your place or mine?” He said it with way more confidence than he felt, in those days it was what he did, just fake it until you make it, and somehow it worked, sometimes at least. You had faintly seen trough it but he was so handsome and had an aura about him that pulled people in so you decided to ignore the warning signs.

“Mine” You replied with a grin.

Whether it was a good or bad decision you had no idea but you were unwilling to let such an opportunity with such a man pass you by. He had eaten your pussy like a starved man kissing through the lace of your panties, licking and sucking at your folds, you had never come that hard before, never had met someone who did it like it was pleasurable for them too and not just a curtesy at most. When you saw him disappear between your legs at first you had almost stopped him too shy to have him that close to you but he spoke before you could even gather your words.

“I’m thicker than most so you need this.” He smiled a little self satisfied then looked at your wet heat and added. “But really you have such a pretty pussy it would be a waste not to.” He licked his lips in anticipation and then made you see stars.

You thought he was bluffing at first but he was honest and he had you melting in his embrace with a few thrust and his deft fingers on your clit. That night he made you cum over and over until you couldn’t take his touch.

“I can’t anymore I surrender.” You said in fake dramatics putting your hand over your hard beating heart, he had laughed, a beautiful sound in the middle of the night, he had the prettiest smile you think you had ever seen, with deep dimples that adorned his cheeks.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” He asked, getting up from bed, you shook your head.

“Just open the window or my landlord will kill me.”

“Well we wouldn’t want the girl with the prettiest pussy ever dying.” He had said cigarette hanging from his lips as he cracked the window open.

“You are kind of a pervert.” You said shaking your head embarrassed and hiding behind the covers as you felt yourself blushing at his bluntness, he looked back at you and smiled as he took his first drag.

“If it is only kind of then it is fine.” He blew the smoke outside the room slowly.

The image of him sitting on your chair, naked, smoking out of the window of your tiny apartment would become ingrained in your mind for years to come haunting you when you least expected it.

In the morning he had woken up and left before you but he had written his number in a piece of paper in the back of one of your shopping lists. Sure, he had probably been the best sex you had ever had, perhaps a little too rough at times but you weren’t entirely sure if getting involved with him further was a good idea, he very clearly had his own thing going on and while you weren’t entirely looking for a relationship you also weren’t entirely not looking for it so you were scared you would end up just being a disturbance in the middle of his easy going life. So you just threw the paper away, promising yourself to just let this be a night of fun and nothing more. But that was not what destiny had in plans for you at all.

One night after some exams were done your friend group decided to party, someone had gotten tickets for a live show and that is how most of you ended up in some dark venue downing the cheapest drinks you could get. Just your luck, he was the performer. As soon as you recognized him up on stage you felt the room start to move underneath your feet, you felt dizzy like you would float away and yet you couldn’t move at all as if glued to the floor by his magnetism. It was the first of many times you would see him preform but it was your favorite and the one you kept closest to your heart. He was fun and charismatic, had people chanting his music back to him and dancing happily, his stage presence shone brightly but it also felt authentic. Time later you would realize when he was on stage he was most honest and truly himself and when he was with you, well you didn’t really know what to belive.

You stood there in the middle of moving bodies with booming bass pounding in your ears, completely enamored by his presence, and you knew you weren’t the only one. Out of the corner of your eyes you would see all the pretty girls close to the stage raising their hands to touch him, to get his attention. Star power underneath the surface waiting to come out, he was standing at the edge of greatness and didn’t even realize it. Knowing you had actually had him in your bed not so long ago filled you with a weird sense of pride, but seeing their sparkling eyes beaming up at him also gave you a weird sense of jealousy that you knew you had no right to. At some point during his set you felt you had caught his eye and he seemed to smile when he recognized you but quickly looked away so you must have imagined it. Yet when it all ended and people were quickly dispersing after he disappeared back stage you saw security guard signaling to you with his hand when you looked at him he said.

”You can come backstage.”

Your friend elbowed you with a giggle. “I didn’t know you were a groupie.”

“Neither did I.” You shrugged quickly and waved goodbye to your group to follow the man to the back of the venue.

You moved through long corridors until you reached a small room filled with people drinking and talking that didn't even look up at you. He appeared right in front of you, still shirtless and sweaty with messy hair sticking to his forehead.

“Hi!” He said still a little breathless before pulling you in.

You looked around, everyone was busy on their own conversations, he had offered you a beer and you took it.

“Brining girls backstage after your show is kinda trashy.” You said with a small smile, he took a sip of his own drink and shrugged lightly.

“Well I only bring the prettiest ones so it isn’t as bad, no?”

That one had hurt uncomfortably, you didn’t know exactly why so you just took a sip of the beer avoiding his eyes. He noticed your silence and tried to get your attention back, he had been eagerly waiting for your call and when you didn’t he felt stupid for not asking for your number instead.

“You didn’t call me.” He said matter of factly staring you down, you were hoping he wouldn’t bring it up, not really sure what your excuse should be for that, he continued. “You just used me for my body and threw me out!” He added faking an insulted tone covering at his chest with his hands, you rolled your eyes at him and laughed.

“You got me” You said all sarcastic.

He giggled then bent down a little to speak directly in your ear. “Then use me again. Or was I that bad?”

You had snorted shaking your head, you blushed deeply, red blooming over your face quickly. He liked making you laugh, pulling that sweet sound off your lips and making you blush too, you would become so impossibly beautiful when a pretty red blush adorned your face, those became his favorite pastimes in the months he would be with you.

You had taken him back to your place that night and many after. It started a routine of seeing each other multiple times per week and then almost every day for months. He liked how you became bolder every time you did it, glowed more beautiful in the night with the light of the lampshade and became more outspoken about your desires, shy at first but then couldn’t get enough of him, it made him feel desired and important in ways that he hadn't in a long time. It made him feel wanted like never before, it made his heart ache hoping for more but too scared to ask for it. And he got better too, was eager to listen to your little whimpers and sounds and the things you liked that made you wetter and hungrier.

He genuinely liked you, having sex was great but he enjoyed listening to you talk about your day, things so mundane he wouldn’t even know about but when coming form your lips seemed so interesting. He enjoyed showering together, in the smallest shower he had ever seen, while you giggled and pushed him away when he tried to grab you just to end up making out naked in the couch because otherwise your water bill would be too high. He like learning what foods you liked and which you didn’t, trial and error with each take out he brought when he visited, seeing the way your eyes lit up when he made a good choice and how you had the tiniest of pouts when he made the wrong one but still always so grateful, it made his heart skip a beat every time he could learn a new expression of yours. He just really enjoyed your company and your time, sometimes he would bring food but your would be too busy for anything else so you would just share a meal while you did your university work and he played on his phone or watched TV, those days ended up becoming his favorites even though he never told you, because when you were done you would always just ask him to stay the night saying it was too late for him to leave and he would, he wanted you to ask him to stay forever.

He liked sleeping in your embrace and waking up before you did to look at your calm beauty, but he also often left before you woke up suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that this was no longer just a fling and he didn’t know what his next step was.

He would sometimes stumble into your apartment after a show, a little tipsy and all red to the tip of his ears, smelling of smoke but with a pretty smile adorning his face, a face you could never say no to. You didn’t like it at first, the smell of cigarettes would linger on your bed sheets but habit is a nasty monster and then it wouldn’t be so annoying, it would just remind you of him in a nice way even when he was gone by the morning. It also made you feel stupidly important, even though you knew he had no problem finding someone else to entertain his nights, he always seemed to be looking for you no matter how late or inconvenient making his way to your place was. And things were mostly fun, he would talk about music a lot, draw sitting in the little table at your kitchen and just enjoy spending his entire free days curled in your old couch even thought you distantly felt he could probably be doing something more exciting but you never asked because you didn’t want to ruin your own good luck.

Those honeymoon days kept pilling one onto the other until his presence became a sweet habit and his absence hurt like hell. He was nice and probably a lot better than some relationships you had had but not everything was perfect, not even close. He seemed to have this mask he would wear for the world, only really honest with his closest ones and you were clearly were not one of them, so you felt like you were staring from outside a window into him and taking whatever crumble of his love he felt comfortable giving you, it made you feel pathetic and so abandoned even when you shared a bed.

You stupidly yearned for more, but knew you wouldn’t get it so you just put on a brave front and kept opening your heart to him hoping soon he would do the same for you. You could tell faintly from the first time you met him he was putting on a persona, that the real man behind that wasn’t willing to come out and meet you and that was okay you kept telling yourself, he was hot and you wanted a warm body at night, that was all. But as the months pilled on, it became lonely, to have virtually a stranger sleeping next to you, someone who would make you cum over and over on his fingers, his mouth, his dick but refused to speak beyond the superficial and was way too good at changing topics when you tried to get closer as if he was slamming a door against your face but with a warm smile plastered on his lips.

And in truth you were nothing, not real friends and not real lovers. He never once called you his girlfriend in almost a year you had been seeing each other and you never introduced him to your friends. You would meet on nights where it was cold and just play pretend of a life you couldn’t have. Sometimes he would have you backstage with his group and others it would be different girls and you never wanted to learn if he was also sleeping with them or they were just friends, you had no right to know and truly the less you knew the better. He didn’t sleep with them, not really since he met you, it just wasn’t as exciting as watching you remove your makeup while you rambled about annoying projects and evil classmates. Even if he had told you, you wouldn’t have believed him, so he never did.

The real day things ended between you two happened a couple months before you actually stopped seeing each other. It was a long weekend, he arrived on Thursday night and stayed until Sunday in that little cramped university apartment you rented and that he came to love as if it was part of you. He brought some take out and beer as always and you were just so happy to see him. You spent the whole weekend having sex and eating whatever junk you could get your hands on at some point you stopped bothering putting on clothes that he would just take off. You would eat, fuck, bathe then sleep, wake up and do it all over again so much so the days started melting into each other in a delicious bliss that would last too little.

Sunday night you were melting into each other’s touch for whatever time it was since he came. He had looked in your nightstand for the bunch of condoms he brought only to realize too late it was all gone.

“Fuck.” he whispered, you were underneath him all wet and pliant, ready for his touch.

“What?” You said looking for what his eyes were searching for and realized. “Oh…”

“I’ll go to the store, give me a minute.” He said starting to get up already thinking about how cold it was outside, how warm your bed was, how pretty you looked and how stupid he was for not bringing more.

“You don’t have to.” Your voice had felt distant like a whisper, he searched for your face in the dark of the room unsure of if he heard correctly, you looked away avoiding his eyes, you were bright red even in the dark of the room he could tell. “You can do it raw I don’t mind.” You mumbled against the pillows.

His dick had been harder than ever before. “Are you sure liefde?”

He wanted to, of course he wanted to, had been dreaming about it constantly since the first time you had sex and would fantasize about it when he was away doing some show when he masturbated with your beautiful image in his mind.

“Yeah, I want you.” You had met his gaze, he kissed you slow deeply, like it was the first time he touched you.

He had taken his time kissing at every nook and cranny of your body, softly massaging at your tired limbs, warming up his way with kisses and asking constantly if you felt good. You kept whimpering with soft tears streaming from your eyes from pleasure and from love at his ministrations, he had his fingers deep into you touching you softly like you could break while petting at your swollen clit, making sure you were ready to take him. When you had felt your climax building up you had pushed at his wrist.

“I want to cum with you.” You whined.

He knew in that moment he was in love with you, no matter how hard he had tried to avoid it the feeling just wouldn’t go away and now it was biting viciously at his heart threatening to tear him apart.

He nodded and slid slowly into you asking if you were alright all the way through as you nodded. When he finally bottomed out he stopped moving for a minute so overwhelmed by everything, he kissed at your forehead, at your cheeks, at your pretty nose and deep at your sweet lips. He kept his forehead against yours, thrusting fast in and pulling out painfully slow, your mouths were inches apart, breathing in the same air, lips brushing against each other in perpetual kiss, he reached so deep you could almost feel him in your lungs it was so delicious it made your brain stop working so you blurted out.

“I love you Joost.”

He suddenly pounded hard into you, his hips stuttered as he came without a warning and collapsed on top of you, his full weight on your body, panting heavily right on your ear. He gave you a few more weak thrust as he rode his high with you clinging to his back.

“Fuck schat feels so good, so good.” He whimpered as held you close to his chest, you felt his heart beating wildly, felt his release paint your walls, and when he pulled out you felt cum start to trickle from your thighs. When he could finally regain his composure a little he looked up at you with beautiful blue eyes.

“Sorry liefde, you felt too good.” He smiled up at you apologetic.

You loved and hated when he used pet names on you, loved it because it made you feel special and hated them because he would only use them in the middle of sex so he couldn’t be too serious about it.

He was never a selfish lover, he quickly gathered himself up and grabbed at the back of your thighs pushing them to your chest.

“Hold for me yes?” He had said, you followed his instructions blindly before you saw him disappear between your legs, you felt his warm tongue lapping at your cunt deeply moaning into you sending delicious waves of pleasure up your spine, you were already so close you wouldn’t last at all.

“Joost!” You had screamed, the delicious sensation and the surprise at what he was doing right after cumming inside you mixing into one.

He pushed his fingers deep into your heat to keep you full, pumped into you at slow steady pace while his lips closed around your clit sucking generously and in no time you were coming undone under his touch, he kept licking you through your high prolonging it as much as he could before he felt you pull away from his touch with overstimulation. When you were done he raised his head from between your legs again, chin and mouth wet with your and his release and a proud expression on his face, he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand before laying in bed next to you and pulling you to his chest.

“Isn’t it gross?” You had asked when you could finally breath again so bewildered at what he had just done.

He laughed like the question itself was stupid. “No, not really. Nothing that makes you feel good could be gross to me.”

He had left in the morning without acknowledging what you said that night.

You tried to ignore how he didn't reply to your confession, tried to push it behind, tried not to feel pathetic about it. You tried to console yourself by imagining you were probably part of a club of girls he had taken to bed who had accidentally blurted out love confessions in the middle of it, yeah right, that has to have happened to someone else too, right? He was just so charismatic and beautiful you saw the way the front rows at his shows were always adorned with the prettiest girls and if you were not the only one this had happened to then it was less embarrassing. Except it wasn’t, because the thought of him being with other girls made you want to puke. After that you kept seeing him because clearly you had a complete lack of self respect or perhaps you were in love and couldn’t decide which one was worse.

You remember the day he called you for the last time so well even when you have tried again and again to forget it. You were cooking dinner and just answered his video call while you kept moving around the kitchen. You talked for a bit about some university drama but could tell his mind was elsewhere, at this point you knew better than to push him because what he didn't want to share with you he simply wouldn’t say, you were painfully used to his selective silence.

Finally he ended the suspense and he spoke. “I’m gonna be gone for over a month.” He sounded uncharacteristically formal and cold in a way you had never heard from him before but you didn’t notice it at the time.

“Oh.” you had said plainly as you continued chopping vegetables.

To this day he wishes you would have looked at him at least once, then he wouldn’t have been strong enough to say what he did.

“I mean, you can sleep with others you know? You don’t have to wait for me.”

The sound of the knife on the cutting board was the only thing that made cut through the heavy silence inside the tiny apartment, you held onto that knife for dear life as if if you let go of it you would crumble instantly and you couldn’t do that in front of him.

“I see.” You mumbled feeling your eyes burn with tears you were holding back.

So he would also sleep with others right? That is what he wanted to say, he was just looking for a way to softly let you down, to let you know that whatever you had going on had become boring and stale and he was going to visit new cities every night and get his fill of as many pretty girls as he would meet and you would become nothing but a fuzzy image in the rear-view mirror of his life. You felt your heart breaking into dust at the realization that you were nothing to him, that you had always been nothing to him.

He had looked at you through the screen waiting to see if you would say something else, tell him you didn’t want that or curse him out for being so cowardly, for not even being able to face you, but you didn’t.

“I have to finish this.”

Before he got another word out you ended the call with shaky hands, not even once looking up at him and those were the last words he would hear from your mouth for four years.

You moved away. You couldn’t stand the thought of running into him, the thought of accidentally seeing him with someone else, you felt you recognized him in the shadows and it made you feel like you were going crazy. So right before he was set to come back you made the decision, quickly made arrangements for a program you had been eyeing at some point but didn’t want to commit to, however right now it was the perfect excuse to leave and never have to look back, never have to sleep again in that bed you once shared, never once having to be alone again in that tiny apartment where so many times you had fallen in love with him and that now felt like a prison collapsing on top of you.

During tour you had stopped answering his texts and calls, that was fine, he felt he deserved it, but he wanted to make it up to you. At the time when he told you you could sleep with others he hadn’t really meant it, and he didn't do it either, he couldn't stop thinking about you even for a second but he had just felt guilty for making you wait so long even thought he was not even you boyfriend, so he thought this way it would be fine, less selfish with you, give you the opportunity to escape him. However, all he had done was hurt you and break his own heart in the process too. But he could still make it right, when he got back he would take you out, to a proper date in a nice restaurant because you deserved it, you deserved the moon and the stars and he had been an idiot for trying to pretend like he wasn’t deeply stupidly foolishly in love with you. He had bought you this perfume you mentioned once and he would talk to you properly, he would make things right again, he kept repeating himself, and he would figure out what he wanted of you.

When he actually came back you were nowhere to be found, painfully late he realized that you had never introduced him to your friends, never once told him exactly were you worked at or the name of your university and he had been so stupid and full of himself he didn’t bother to learn. Now all too late he realized he had no way of tracking you down. You had gone up in the wind leaving with a piece of his heart he didn’t even realize he had given you.

As such is life you were back in Amsterdam, four years later. You didn’t feel paranoid that you would run into him anymore, rarely ever thought of him honestly and when you did it was almost a weird funny melancholia. Since then he had become a much bigger star than he would have ever envisioned and you felt a weird sort of pride that you had had a fling with someone like that. You never told anyone aside from a couple of really close friends who had had to dry your tears when everything went wrong but now it was fine. It was a healed wound that only ever really bothered you on cold days, but that was normal you kept telling yourself. You had met for a moment of your lives and were now old strangers, that was all that was left.

At least you thought so until one day after work while you are binge watching some series in your new apartment while shoveling take out into your mouth your phone rings. You had gotten lucky enough to get the same number as before and thought it could serve you to reconnect with some old friends from university but you didn’t even imagine who would be on the other side of the line.

“Hello.” You say distracted still chewing, you don’t recognize the caller ID.

“Hey.” The voice sounds shaky, nervous, deeper, distantly familiar, no, you are lying to yourself, you know exactly who it is but you wish with everything you have that you are wrong.

“Who is this?” You ask in silent prayer that it is just a telemarketer and just your brain playing a bad joke on you.

“I know it has been a while but I didn’t expect you to not recognize me.” He says laughing uncomfortably, knows he has no right to be calling but still wants you to answer. “It is Joost, I’m Joost I mean.” He sounds stupid, he feels embarrassed, he feels himself blushing, his palms are sweaty holding tightly at the phone until his knuckles turn white.

“Oh.” Your voice sounds like a whisper.

“Listen I- I heard that you were back, I thought-” He stops, takes a deep breath he can’t hear you anymore, wonders if you already hung up, it would be deserved but it would still hurt like hell. “I was wondering if you would want to have dinner with me to catch up?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Part 2

MASTERLIST *ੈ✩‧₊˚ A/N: lets decide together!

#joost klein #joost klein smut #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #joost x you #joost #joost smut #joost fanfic #joost klein fanfiction

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bad268 · 1 month

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Burn

Aftermath Affair Pt. 4

(Oscar Pisatri X Reader + Ex! Lando Norris X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 1

Requested: Nope, happy 5 years!

Warnings: Airing dirty laundry lol, that's about it. Based on the song from Hamilton (not Lewis)

POV: Second Person (You/your/They/them)

W.C. 1710

Chapter Summary: Y/n L/n posted a new video, and everyone's hearts stop.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

<-Part 3

~~(^Both from Pinterest)

You moved in with Oscar that night. All you took were your clothes. Everything that Lando bought you now burned you, and you couldn’t give a fuck less about what he bought you. You wanted nothing to do with anything related to Lando. He reached out once, asking where you were. All you said was, “Ask Ava.” He understood then. At least, you assumed he did because you blocked his number and every social media account he had before he could respond.

You heard from Oscar that Lando was a wreck. You laughed it off because he did this to himself.

Your subscribers noticed the change. Your personal channel content changed from video games to vlogs. You were going out and doing things, in London they learned, and they loved to see it. You still played games, but fewer racing games and more random games you always wanted to play. Your subscribers also noticed how happy you were. They were convinced you and Lando got engaged.

Little did they know, you were falling for a different man.

Your subscribers were thrown for a loop when your shared channel with Lando was deleted. You decided it was time to delete it. They bombarded your socials almost immediately, asking what’s going on. They tried to see if it was rebranded or saved anywhere, but it seemed like your entire relationship was ripped from the internet. Your Instagram was void of Lando, your channel no longer had videos with him, and you didn’t follow him anywhere anymore. They didn’t even notice until then.

Y/n L/n just posted!

“A Letter to Lando”

“By now, you will have all seen that the shared channel is gone,” You opened the video. You were sitting in your new recording room. It was more open than your last one, more bright. You had a large window that brought in a lot of natural light, and it was more your style. The last one was just Lando’s recording room that you borrowed, so you couldn’t change it. When you moved in, Oscar told you to make this space yours in any way you wanted. It took a while, but you felt at home for once. “I deleted our shared channel because I am erasing myself from this narrative.“

“I’ve filmed this video at least three times at this point,” You took a breath as you felt tears well up in your eyes again. It’s hard to talk about what happened. Not only the way in which you found out about the cheating but also how you reacted. It was one of the darkest times in your life, and it took a lot to come back from. “I’m sorry, but it’s been a struggle trying to find the words to share this. As many of you have seen on Lando’s Instagram, Lando and I are no longer together.”

Oscar still had to follow Lando on Instagram for team purposes, and that’s how you saw that he posted a hard launch with Ava.

You still did not know how you wanted to tell everyone what happened. You looked off at the wall. Your viewers couldn’t see it, but there was a picture of you and Oscar from a few months ago. You went out to celebrate 1.5 million subscribers. Oscar insisted, saying it was a huge milestone, and you didn’t want to make it a big deal. He insisted and dragged you out of the apartment. The picture was taken right after you accidentally knocked ice cream onto his nose. Lando wouldn’t even celebrate 1 million with you. Remembering the happiness with Oscar made you smile.

“Clearly, we’re not together anymore,” You sighed as your smile faded. “I’m not going into details, but I hope they’re happy. My friends always said he would do what it took to survive, and they were right. I was blinded by his words and his actions. That’s on me.”

“You talked about how long you have been in love with her, and how you didn’t believe in true love until you met each other,” You let out a breath as you thought of your next words carefully. “You told the world how you brought this girl into our bed, and in explaining your love story, you have ruined our lives. Do you know what my friends said? They called you an Icarus! That’s how my friends reacted, so I’ve decided that I’ll let you wonder how I reacted when you broke my heart, when you tore us apart.”

“I kept every letter you ever wrote to me,” You chuckled lightly as you pulled out a few pieces of paper. “The letter you first asked me out with because you were too scared to ask me face to face, the letter you wrote when we hit each milestone, random letters where you just professed your love, and letters that I would have cherished forever. I also kept the letter I wrote to you when I found out. I thought about reading a few lines out,” You insinuated by opening one of the letters before pulling out a lighter. You had already opened the window and had a bucket of water by your feet, and Oscar was standing outside with a fire extinguisher just in case. You chuckled lightly as you skimmed the loving words that had now turned sour in your eyes. At that moment, you decided you wanted to watch it burn. “I’ll let you all wonder how I reacted when he broke my heart.”

Your soft smile as you read slowly turned to a scowl before you lit the corner of the paper and looked directly into the camera. “Lando, you don’t deserve to see how I reacted. You don’t deserve anything from me. The world has no place in our bed, and they don’t get to know what I said. I am burning the memories, the letters that might have redeemed you. Lando, you can sleep in your office with only the memories of when you were mine.”

You lit all of Lando’s letters one by one before dropping them in the bucket once they were destroyed. Then you grabbed your letter to Lando. You skimmed through the multiple pages of it, remembering the feelings before lighting the corner. “You didn’t give me the decency to tell me yourself. I had to learn of your affair from your friend, so you forfeit the rights to my heart. You forfeit the place in our bed. I hope you’re happy with yourself, Lando.”

You threw the last letter into the bucket and gazed at the camera. Finally, you felt at peace.

“One last note to Lando Norris,” You paused, allowing a small smile to envelop your features, “I hope you burn.”

The reactions were almost instant. You sat on the couch curled up against Oscar’s body, rewatching Sex Education. It was one of your favorite shows, but Lando hated it, so you never got to watch it. Oscar binged it once, so he was always down to rewatch it with you. You heard your phone going off, so you pulled it out of your pocket to check it. However, Oscar immediately took it out of your hand and powered it off.

“Hey, what’s that for?” You chuckled as he moved your phone away from you. “I was gonna check that.”

“Shhh, the show is playing,” He whispered as he leaned toward your ear before turning his attention back to the show.

“You’re insufferable,” You laughed as you turned your attention back to the screen. It didn’t hold your attention long as you looked back over to Oscar. You were leaning against his chest with your arms wrapped around his waist, so you were looking up at him. He had an arm around your shoulder while the other rested against your thigh that was lying over his lap. You got lost in your thoughts.

Oscar was everything to you. You felt more free whenever you were with him. At first, he gave you the space to refind yourself. He even supported you throughout the journey. Any game you wanted, he bought. Any new hobby, he tried it with you, so you wouldn’t feel alone. He never pushed you to do anything, but he did support you in everything you wanted to try.

You never felt this supported with Lando. Looking back, he was toxic. He only wanted to play racing games or stupid games. You wanted to try other things, and he would be condescending. He always pushed you to fit the cookie cutter mold that other racing drivers’ girlfriends fit, but that was never going to be you. Oscar encouraged the change because staying in the same thing for too long can burn you out. It was true.

At some point of your staring, Oscar looked down at you with a smile. It wasn’t until he left a kiss on your forehead that you noticed.

When you first moved in, Oscar was very respectful in giving you your space to heal. He made sure to give you multiple spaces where you could retreat to including your own room and recording room. As the time moved on, you slowly migrated into his room for movie nights and late-night binges, and it eventually became you two staying in the same bed all night. Oscar never pushed you away. He wanted you to know that he was there for you whenever you were ready, and he was willing to wait as long as he needed for you.

“Penny for your thoughts,” He said with a quiet tone, not wanting to disturb the peace.

“I think I’m ready,” You replied in the same tone. You moved to sit up a little more before grabbing Oscar’s hand, “I’m ready to give us a chance.”

“Really?” Oscar asked as he started getting excited before calming back down, “Wait, I don’t want to rush you if you aren’t ready.”

“That’s exactly why I’m ready,” You laughed as you leaned back into him. “You gave me the space to become comfortable again. Oscar, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this comfortable and free with someone in my life! You have been everything but pushy, and I’m ready to try us.”

~~~ Part 5 ->

Tags- @barcelonaloverf1life

~~~~~

145 notes · View notes

rubycruzin4abruzin · 4 months

Text

I hate you, too

Summary: Ruby is your acting rival as well as your sworn enemy. When you’re cast in the same movie, you struggle with the fight choreography, an area which your co-star excels at. What will you do when you have no choice but to swallow your pride and ask her for extra help?

Pairing: ruby cruz x actress!reader

Contains: mature language, some adult humor, kissing, angst, enemies to lovers, slow burn, forced proximity, walked in on while changing, non-sexual knife play, clumsy!reader, publicity tweets, there was only One Trailer

Word Count: 6.6k (told you it’s a slow burn)

A/N: This is a Real Person Fiction, RPF Guidelines still stand. Morally, I refuse to write smut for Ruby Cruz. That being said, I miss writing smut!! Dying to write some Kit Tanthalos smut after this, if anyone has a request feel free to send it in. That being said, Ruby is always super fun to write for, and I hope y’all enjoy! :)

———

If you never saw Ruby Cruz again, it would be too soon.

You first encountered her shortly after moving to Los Angeles to pursue acting. During a meeting with your agent to discuss a contract, she entered unannounced, as if the office belonged to her.

“Hey Estelle, I’m here to pick up the ‘Mare of Easttown’ audition sides,” she stated, barely glancing in your direction.

Estelle handed her a stack of papers before introducing you. “This is Ruby Cruz, one of my regular clients. You two will likely be seeing a lot of each other.”

Ruby finally turned toward you, assessing you with her bright blue eyes that seemed to pierce through your soul. She gave you a curt smile, and offered her hand.

“Nice to meet you. Estelle’s the best; you’re gonna love her.”

You shook her hand as Estelle chuckled at the flattery, shaking her head and modestly dismissing it.

“Ruby has an audition next week for that ‘Mare of Easttown’ show… which reminds me! I think you could also be a good fit for that. We can discuss more later, but for now, let me at least get you the audition sides.”

Estelle began to gather nearby papers into a stack, stapling the corner before handing them to you. Excitement bubbled in your chest at the thought of acting in a show as notable as ‘Mare of Easttown.’

Ruby hummed, clucking her tongue as you flipped through the stack of papers. Glancing up at her from your seat, you could have sworn you saw her eyes squint, almost as if she now saw you as nothing more than competition.

“In that case, hope you break a leg.”

With a wave goodbye to Estelle, she left the office. You couldn’t place it at the time, but something about her tone felt… off.

The audition came and went, and it was just your luck that Ruby ended up landing the role. Of course, it became her breakout role, one that juiced up her resume and propelled her career.

Initially, it didn’t bother you that much; after all it was just one audition. However, given that you were both conventionally attractive actresses in the same age range, Estelle frequently recommended you for the same roles. You began to see her face at every single audition, and frankly, you were sick of it.

That’s not to say you lost every role to Ruby Cruz; sure she was your competition, but you both had your share of the limelight. She was Hazel Callahan in “Bottoms,” and you were Harper McCallington in “Out & Uncool.” While she was busy filming for “Willow” as Princess Kit Tanthalos, you starred as Empress Kian Thorne in a limited series entitled “Cottonwood.”

You were a tad jealous that Ruby landed a continuing series while yours was limited, so when you found out about “Willow” being abruptly canceled after one season, you couldn’t help but revel in the schadenfreude.

Despite your individual successes, you harbored a deep dislike for Ruby. Yes, she was pretty, with pale blue eyes and dark hair that offset her ivory skin, but watching her stride into every audition wearing that all-too-familiar smug smile only fueled your resentment and made your blood boil.

Several months after moving to LA, one particular audition day commenced with a morning from hell. You woke up groggy with your hair in a rats nest, and spent the majority of the morning battling with the bathroom mirror in an attempt to render yourself presentable. Once you could actually run a comb through it, a quick glance at a clock revealed you were running late. Hastily, you grabbed your resume, poured some of your roommates' leftover coffee into a travel mug, and dashed out the door in a race against time.

Curses flew out of your mouth while you sat in the infamous LA traffic, fingers tapping anxiously against the steering wheel while your eyes darted towards the clock.

Arriving at the audition site, you parked haphazardly and rushed to the entrance, coffee sloshing against your mug with every step. Pushing open the doors, you immediately caught sight of the very person you knew you would see but secretly wished you wouldn’t.

There was Ruby, sitting in the waiting room, too focused on studying her audition material to even notice you had walked in. She wore a white blouse with floral patterns, jeans, and white converse—an undoubtedly effortless outfit that looked so good on her, it genuinely annoyed you.

Shaking your head, you tried to push aside any thoughts of Ruby and focus on the audition. As you stepped towards the sign-in table, your notorious clumsiness struck as you mis-stepped and tripped over your own foot. Fortunately, you managed to catch yourself before face-planting, but you lost control of your mug, ending up spilling coffee all over your sworn enemy.

Ruby stood up in shock, the lukewarm liquid staining her white blouse and smudging the ink on her papers. She lifted her head, glaring at you with narrowed eyes.

“What the hell!” She exclaimed.

Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open in shock. “Shit, Ruby, I’m so…”

“You did that on purpose!”

The brewing apology halted at her accusation. Indignation swelled within you, and the urge to defend yourself took over.

“Excuse me? It was an accident! Jesus!”

“You don’t think I know you don’t like me?” She spat back. “Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”

By now, everyone else in the waiting room was watching the two of you, while the stage manager at the sign-in table desperately tried to de-escalate the situation.

You felt your face flush at the unwanted attention as you attempted to lower your voice. “Ruby, I may not be your biggest fan, but I would never do something like that on purpose.”

“Oh please, I know your type. You would do anything to land a role, even if it’s underhanded!”

“For fucks sake, Ruby!” You rolled your eyes, exasperated at this conversation. “I land roles just fine on my own. Not everything is about you!”

“You’re seriously standing here telling me that ‘not everything is about me’ when you’re the one who ruined my blouse right before an audition?!”

“What is the meaning of this?!”

You and Ruby turned your heads toward the unidentified voice to see what appeared to be the director of the project standing in the doorway. He peered down at the two of you with an icy glare, while the stage manager stood next to him with her arms crossed.

A gulp involuntarily forced its way down your throat. You looked over at Ruby, who stood frozen with all the color seemingly drained from her face. Both of you waited with baited breath for the director's next move as his nostrils flared.

“Both of you. Out. Now.”

“There’s good news, and bad news.”

You and Ruby stared at Estelle from across her desk, shame and embarrassment radiating from the both of you. Last week's altercation at the audition made headlines on LA Twitter news, prompting her to call an emergency meeting to discuss next steps.

“You already know the bad news,” Estelle sighed. “Word got out about your little ‘stunt.’ As of right now, neither of you have great reputations in the Hollywood eye.”

Estelle turned to look directly at you, making you shrink in your seat. “Not many people want to work with an actor who would sabotage another actor’s audition to get a leg-up.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself but immediately closed it upon seeing the look on Estelle’s face. She looked away from you, focusing her attention on Ruby next.

“And no one wants to work with a hothead who causes scenes and goes on public cursing sprees.”

Ruby squirmed under Estelle’s scrutiny, looking down at her lap to avoid eye contact.

Estelle leaned back in her chair, glancing back and forth between the two of you. “Fortunately, there is some good news.”

Your ears perked up at this, curious as to what kind of good would come out of this kind of publicity. Glancing over at Ruby, you noticed she raised her gaze while still keeping her head lowered. Estelle continued.

“Another director caught wind of the situation and contacted me immediately. Apparently, he’s been toying with this idea for a movie about two rival mafia bosses who go undercover as high school cheerleaders. He is adamant that the two of you play the leading roles.”

Shock painted your features as you attempted to process what Estelle just told you. You looked over at Ruby, who seemed just as bewildered as you.

“So, this director wants to work with two people who can’t stand each other?” She inquired.

Estelle shrugged. “I’ve been told he’s very… method. Authenticity is everything to him, no matter what the consequences. Still, people say to trust his process because he’s extremely brilliant.”

She pulled out a couple business cards and handed them to the both of you, his name in thick black font jumping out from the white background.

Calvin Cunningham. Film Director.

Calvin Cunningham turned out to be quite the character.

He was brutally honest, always saying exactly what he thought of something. He engaged with the cast and crew as if they were his best friends, but if something wasn’t up to his standards, he never hesitated to voice his dissatisfaction.

His methods were eccentric and unusual, with an unwavering commitment to authenticity. They were unorthodox, but if they proved to be effective, he couldn’t care less about the cost.

On the first day of shooting, after being given your trailer assignment, you were about to go inside when you saw something that made you stop dead in your tracks. There, hanging on the back of the trailer door, was a big gold star with two names engraved into it.

Yours… and Ruby’s.

Outraged, you turned and marched towards Calvin, only to find him already in conversation with a head of loathsome brunette locks.

“This has to be some mistake,” cried Ruby. “I can’t share a trailer with her!”

“Ditto.” You piped up, moving to stand next to your rival.

Calvin shook his head. “No mistake. You guys can’t stand each other, and I want to maintain that energy throughout filming. I figured some forced proximity could help to fuel that fire.”

“Please, Calvin. I will literally share with anyone else,” you pleaded, words falling on deaf ears as Calvin simply turned and walked away from the two of you.

Ruby turned to glare at you with shrunken pupils, and you reciprocated with a side-eye right back. As you both began your way over to your shared trailer, you couldn’t help but acknowledge: this might be the first time you and Ruby actually agreed on something.

Filming was going well, all things considered. You and Ruby spent your days on set, hashing out all your hatred towards each other in front of the camera, and then pretty much ignored each other otherwise.

Changing could be slightly awkward, given the shared trailer, but you and Ruby had an unspoken agreement to keep to yourselves. Nevertheless, the trailer was a tight space, allowing you to see everything within your peripheral vision. Despite your disdain for Ruby, you couldn’t help but admire the delicate curve of her tapered waist and how it contrasted against her toned stomach. Even you could appreciate how her hair became disheveled every time she lifted a clothing item over her head, prompting her to shake it out until her short tresses tumbled over her shoulder.

You chalked it up to vanity, but sometimes you swore you caught her checking you out from the corner of her eye, too.

One day, while checking your schedule for the upcoming week, you noticed a choreography rehearsal planned for the big knife fight scene towards the end of the movie. Dread immediately consumed you, settling in your stomach like a boulder reaching the bottom of a hill.

It wasn’t because you were worried about getting into a knife fight with Ruby; you knew the weapons were harmless props and posed no threat to your safety. You dreaded any kind of choreography rehearsal, as you were notoriously an uncoordinated klutz. It was like you bore a curse of delayed reaction times and two left feet—a burden that weighed on your shoulders like an anchor.

On the day of the rehearsal, you walked into the stunt room to see Ruby already there, stretching in yoga pants and a crop top that hung just below her ribcage. Calvin stood in the corner conversing with the choreographer, Lucas: an effeminate man with a muscular build that offset his short stature.

Minutes after you started stretching, Lucas blew his whistle, calling you and Ruby over to the center of the room.

“Hey guys! Hope you’re as excited as I am to do some fight choreography.” He chirped, flashing a toothy grin.

While Lucas spoke, your attention shifted to Ruby. She stood confidently, her hands resting on her hips as she listened for instructions. You rolled your eyes. Of course she was confident, she had plenty of combat training during “Willow,” and even more during “Bottoms.”

As much as you hated to admit it, this was one area where Ruby outshone you.

“In this scene,” Lucas explained, handing each of you a prop knife labeled with your characters names. “Quinn and Gia both realize they’re from rival mafia families, and draw their weapons at the regional cheer competition.”

You turned the knife over in your hand, running your thumb over the “Quinn” sticker on the handle. “Is this… a real knife?”

Lucas nodded. “Yes, but it’s been dulled for your safety. Don’t worry.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, knowing your lack of coordination posed less of a threat now.

Lucas continued. “For the first part, Quinn, advance towards Gia with the knife raised, like you want to slit her throat. Gia, sidestep and dodge her attack.”

You positioned your knife and lunged at Ruby, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding after she successfully avoided the blade.

Lucas nodded in approval. “Great! Now Gia, advance towards Quinn with your weapon, and she’ll block and engage.”

Ruby lunged at you, but when you tried to block her attack, the knife slipped from your grip and fell from your hand. Your face flushed as you stared at the blade, now lying on the plush mat.

“What was that?” Calvin interrupted, still watching from the corner of the room.

Lucas shot him a sheepish grin. “It’s ok, Calvin. It’s just the first rehearsal.”

Calvin grumbled incoherently as you bent down to pick up your knife. You noticed Ruby’s lips curl into a subtle smirk at your mishap, provoking an eye-roll from you.

“Let’s try that again,” Lucas stated. “This time, Gia, why don’t you try advancing a little slower?”

Ruby nodded, and moved towards you seemingly in slow-motion. This time, you managed the block successfully and engaged your weapons without issue.

Lucas beamed in approval. “Great! Let’s move on.”

He went on with instructions, leading you through the engagement of your weapons. Despite the slow pace, you repeatedly made a fool of yourself throughout the entire rehearsal. Sweaty palms hindered your grip on the knife, and you even managed to confuse your left from your right. Calvin stood fuming in the corner, while Ruby’s initially smug demeanor gradually turned into one of annoyance.

“Alright,” Lucas started, wiping his brow and forcing a tight smile. “For this last part, Gia, focus on disarming your opponent, and then tackle her. Quinn, this should be pretty easy. All you have to do is keep yourself open and fall.”

You gulped and assumed the ‘ready’ position, locking eyes with Ruby. She advanced, carefully redirecting your blade before grabbing your shoulders to push you onto your back. Unfortunately, as you were going down, a misstep caused you to lose your footing. Your arms flailed out of instinct, and in the search for stability, you inadvertently dragged the blade across Ruby’s cheek, leaving a bright red cut in its wake.

Startled, she hissed and dropped you onto the mat, hands moving to cradle her injured cheek. “Ouch! What the hell?!”

Calvin and Lucas rushed to Ruby’s side while you stared at your freshly-bloodied knife and tried to process what had just happened. “I thought you said they were dulled!”

“Well yeah, but they’re still real knives!” Lucas exclaimed, moving Ruby’s hand to see the cut.

A stream of apologies flew from your mouth immediately, but Ruby only responded with an icy glare and Calvin mumbled something about the makeup artist before storming out of the room. A lump rose to your throat as you blinked back tears, humiliated and filled with guilt. Once again, your clumsiness managed to ruin things for the people around you.

As you got up to leave the room, you looked back and met Ruby’s gaze. This time, instead of annoyance or anger, her face held only a look of pity as she watched you walk away.

At the end of the day, after you and Ruby were no longer needed on set, you found yourself standing outside your shared trailer, hands wringing in anticipation for what you were about to do.

Despite your best efforts, you knew your struggle to grasp the fight choreography was impeding production. Ruby, on the other hand, excelled at stage combat. You needed the extra practice, and Lucas had already gone home. After several hours of contemplation, you resolved to set aside your pride and seek help from your sworn enemy.

With a deep breath, you entered the trailer. Ruby was already inside, dressed in yoga pants and a sports bra, clearly in the middle of changing. You felt your cheeks flush as she spun around, revealing a neon green band-aid on her right cheek.

“Ever heard of knocking?” She spat, covering herself defensively.

Your brows furrowed in disbelief. “It’s my trailer too!”

She scoffed, turning around to finish putting her shirt on. You sighed, knowing the odds were already not in your favor.

“Fine, I’m sorry,” you began, prompting her to look back at you, puzzled. “Not about the trailer, but about the knife, and the coffee, and just… everything. I know you think I’m out to get you, but I’m not, I’m just really accident-prone, and for that I’m sorry.”

Her gaze softened slightly, and she nodded, silently accepting your apology. You continued, avoiding eye contact for what you were about to ask.

“Listen… I need your help.”

Your words took her by surprise. “With what?”

“Fight choreography,” you pressed. “I know we don’t really get along, and I wouldn’t ask if I had literally any other option, but you’re incredible at stage combat. Please, I could really use the practice.

“No argument there,” she snarled. “But why should I help you?”

“Because we’re co-stars, if I look good, you look good. Besides, do you really want to risk another one of those?” You gestured to the band-aid on her cheek.

Ruby touched the bandaged wound, wincing from the pain.

Defeated, she groaned. “Fine, I’ll help you, but only on two conditions.”

She stepped closer until she was inches from your face, close enough that her warm breath grazed your skin. You felt the sharp jab of her finger in your chest as she locked eyes with you.

“First, during training, you do everything I say, exactly as I say it. And second…” she moved back, crossing her arms with a smirk. “…you owe me a favor.”

“Okay,” you shrugged. “What do you want?”

“I’ll let you know when I think of something,” she replied. “As of right now, we have a fight to train for.”

You followed her to the stunt room, now fully unoccupied as most of the crew had gone home. Ruby switched on the lights and made her way to the props table while you took your spot on one of the mats.

“Hmm,” she scrunched up her nose as she picked up the knives you had used to train earlier. “I really don’t trust you with a weapon right now. No offense.”

“None taken,” you replied, pleasantly surprised at the lack of offense.

Ruby moved around the room in search of a safer substitute. She ended up at a supply cabinet, and sifted through it until she proudly held up a miniature pool noodle.

“Noodles!” She announced, grabbing one and handing you another.

“Perfect,” you exhaled, relieved.

Ruby assumed the ‘ready’ position across from you while you mirrored her stance, gripping the pool noodle as if it were your knife.

“Alright,” she started. “Why don’t we skip the exposition, since there’s no issues there. Let’s jump to the weapon engagement.”

You stepped forward, engaging with Ruby’s noodle. She nodded in approval before continuing the choreography.

“Left, right, no… right. Wait… do you not know your left from your right?”

Embarrassed, you dropped your gaze to the mat. “I do… I just… have to stop and think about it sometimes…”

Ruby chuckled, rolling her eyes. “I am totally going to give you shit about that later, but for now, let’s just work on muscle memory.”

She moved behind you, reaching around to take hold of your wrists before leaning into whisper. “Is this ok?”

A shudder traveled down your spine as her breath tickled your ear, a subtle expression you prayed she didn’t notice. “Y-yeah… you’re good.”

The way her fingertips brushed so gently against your skin felt like a million tiny shocks of electricity, but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why.

“Left, right, left-left, right,” she guided your dominant hand through the movements. “Over, under, around and right.”

She repeated the sequence once more before letting go of you, stepping back to observe. “Show it to me.”

You demonstrated flawlessly, earning a beam of approval.

“Good. Let’s move on.”

From there, Ruby continued to guide you through the combat sequence in its entirety, stopping repeatedly to work out the kinks and offer helpful tips. She taught you where to hold your body weight so you didn’t stumble, and even showed you how to look like you fell on purpose, if necessary. As much as you hated the girl, you had to admit, she was a pretty good teacher.

Eventually, after hours of training, you reached the last step of the routine. Both of you were drenched in sweat and panting hard, but determined to make it to the end.

“Now…” Ruby rested her hands on her knees as she attempted to catch her breath. “Last but not least: the fall. So to start, I push down on your shoulders…”

She placed her hands near your collarbone and gently pushed, causing your arms to flail and smack her with the pool noodle. Immediately letting go of you, she took a step back with her hands up. You froze, expecting her to yell at you, but to your surprise she threw her head back in laughter.

“And that…” she pointed to the band-aid on her cheek “…is how this happened.”

You forced a nervous giggle in response as you stared at her hysterical disposition. Her laugh was crisp, almost melodic, like windchimes in a summer breeze. You weren’t quite sure what she found so funny; perhaps she was so tired from the long rehearsal, she collapsed into a state of hysteria.

Ruby calmed down after a minute or two, wiping away a tear as her breathing subsided. “So, I’m guessing you don’t like having your shoulders touched?”

You shook your head. “It’s not that. I guess it just feels constricting to have someone pushing me while I’m trying to fall safely.”

She clicked her tongue, seemingly deep in thought. “Hmm… why don’t we modify it a little bit? I could push you by your hips, let you fall, and then pin you down.”

“Can we do that?” You asked, concerned about getting into trouble again.

“Yeah, it’s not a huge change. I’m sure Lucas won’t mind. Besides, actor safety is always number one priority… and that includes my own.” She gestured to her cheek again with a lopsided smirk, prompting you to grimace apologetically.

You centered your body weight as she approached you, grasping your sides before letting her fingers wrap around your hip bones. She met your eyes, searching for approval.

“Better?” She asked.

Your voice came out hoarse, almost a whisper. “Yeah. Much better.”

“The most important thing,” she explained, “is to keep your body open.”

She moved her hands from your hips up to your arms, positioning them until they were spread out on each side, as if you were preparing for a big hug.

“When I disarm you, move your arms to the side like this. That way, you’ll have more control over a fall, and I’ll have less chance of getting cut.”

You nodded in understanding as she took a step back, preparing for the attack.

“Slow motion, ok? No rush.”

She carefully walked towards you and grabbed your hips, pushing with gentle pressure. Keeping your body open, you fell safely to the mat, back flat on the floor and arms spread out to your sides.

Ruby stood over you wearing a look of pride and satisfaction before offering out her hand to help you up from the mat.

“Wow,” she exclaimed with a breathless chuckle. “I’m a really great teacher.”

You rolled your eyes at her familiar cocky attitude. “Mhm… so, is that it?”

“Not yet. One more time, from the top. Let’s put it all together.”

“Full speed?” You asked, getting into position.

She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, breathing heavily as she moved to stand across from you. “Don’t you dare hold back.”

On her count, you lunged at her with your noodle before she sidestepped and dodged the attack. She reciprocated with an advance of her own, prompting you to block it and successfully engage your props.

“Left, right, left-left, right,” she called out. “Over, under, around and right.”

The two of you continued sparring, each movement now pristine and polished. Droplets of sweat scattered from your skin as your props flew at lightning speed, every advance met with a clean block or countered with the appropriate attack. It was like your bodies were in perfect sync, months of built up tension finally surfacing to glide seamlessly through combat.

As you reached the end of the routine, Ruby expelled your weapon, disarming you and prompting your arms to extend. She seized your hips, fingertips pressing into your plush sides, and pushed until you could fall safely. Back now flat against the mat, she crawled on top of you, straddling your hips while planting her hands on either side of your head.

Time seemingly froze as Ruby hovered above you, keeping you trapped underneath her. Her face was close, so close that you were panting into each other's mouths. You stared up at her, noticing her bright blue eyes had turned significantly darker, and you swore, just for a split second, you saw them glance down at your lips.

“You…” she panted, breathless. “Y-you…”

Your heart pounded in your chest, flustered from the mix of adrenalines. “W-what about me?”

“You… you smell… so bad.”

With that, she immediately picked herself off of you, leaving you lying in a heap on the mat.

Annoyed and confused, you sat up to glare at her. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she turned away from you and cracked her back. “We’ve been in here for awhile, and you really need a shower.”

“Look who’s talking,” you spat back. “Your hair is literally sticking to your forehead!”

She reached up, awkwardly brushing her hair out of her face while mumbling something incoherent. It was like the air around you had suddenly turned thick with tension, neither of you daring to speak up for fear of saying what you were both thinking.

You decided to break the silence. “What time is it?”

Ruby glanced at her watch. “Almost 1am.”

“Shit,” you responded, not realizing it had gotten so late. “Guess we should…”

“Yeah,” she cut you off.

Without another word, the two of you gathered your things to leave for the evening. On the way out, neither of you offered a “bye” or “see you tomorrow,” but both of you turned to glance back when the other wasn’t looking.

For the remainder of the week, you and Ruby avoided each other like the plague, but not necessarily in the way you had previously. Before, there was always a palpable negative energy looming between the two of you, something Calvin could exploit for the cameras. Now, your scenes read awkwardly, both of you too preoccupied the events of the other night to properly engage in animosity.

This shift in dynamic didn’t go unnoticed by the cast and crew, especially Calvin, who never hesitated to hide his frustration. He desperately sought chemistry, and realized that forcing you to share a trailer wasn’t cutting it anymore. At this point, he was willing to do whatever it took to reignite that spark.

One day, Calvin informed you that lunch would be served in the stunt room. It seemed odd, food being served in the industry equivalent to a trampoline park, but Calvin typically had some rationale behind his unconventional ideas, so you didn’t question it.

When lunch break rolled around, you walked into the stunt room to find it completely dark and empty, aside from Ruby, who stood in the center of the room looking confused. Upon seeing you, she froze.

“Uh… hey.” She muttered, pointing her gaze to the floor.

“Hey yourself,” you replied awkwardly. “Uhm, did Calvin tell you lunch was being served here?”

“Yeah, actually,” she furrowed her brow, glancing around the room. “But I haven’t seen any caterers or anything.”

“Weird, I wonder why he would-“

Suddenly, you were cut off by a door slam, followed by the sharp click of a lock. You and Ruby stared at each other, panic-stricken on your faces before rushing to try the door handle.

“What the… hey! Let us out!” Ruby shouted, pounding on the door after the handle wouldn’t budge.

As you watched Ruby struggle against the door, realization hit you like a ton of bricks. “Calvin!”

“What are you talking about?” Ruby growled.

“Think about it,” you explained. “He’s been frustrated with us all week, our scenes have sucked, he lied to both of us…”

Giving up on the door, Ruby leaned against it and turned to glare at you. “You think he locked us in here on purpose?”

You shot her a knowing look. She groaned frustratedly, squeezing her eyes shut and throwing her head back against the door.

“That is exactly something he would do,” she exclaimed.

“Someone’s going to sue that man one day,” you huffed.

Ruby snickered in agreement. “Why don’t we?”

“Pretty sure that would require us to actually talk to each other.”

Silence fell between the two of you, as what was supposed to be a lighthearted joke turned into you accidentally addressing the elephant in the room.

“It’s not like we ever talked much before…” Ruby muttered, breaking the silence.

“That’s not true,” you argued. “We used to bicker constantly. Now we’re just… weird.”

“This whole week has been weird.” Ruby agreed.

“Why?” You pushed, squinting at her. “You helped me out with a fight scene, and now we’re like two twelve-year-olds at a middle school dance. How does that make sense?”

“I don’t know! I just…” Ruby sighed exasperatedly, and put her head in her hands.

Your gaze softened as you realized the brunette was struggling with her words. Usually, she radiated confidence, an attribute of hers that made you burn with jealousy. Now, she exuberated hesitance like you’d never seen, with her body backed up against the door and her face covered with her hands.

You took a step towards her, and spoke softly. “Ruby, you and I both know we’re not getting out of here until we start talking.”

Realizing you had a point, Ruby groaned and dropped her hands. She refused to look you in the eye, instead opting to stare at your feet while she searched for the right words.

“When we were… fighting,” she began, chewing on each word as if it were molasses. “There was a moment where… I had you pinned…”

She swallowed involuntarily at the blatant description. Your face flushed, but you nodded in an attempt to coax more out of her.

“I was looking down at you… and… I guess… I just realized… maybe I don’t… hate you… as much as I thought I did.”

The moisture drained from your mouth as her confession caught you completely off guard. Half of you had the urge to make fun of her, and the other half just wanted to grab her shoulders and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe.

Instead, you decided to probe on. “You don’t?”

“I don’t think I ever did,” she confessed in a half-whisper. “I never really got to know you before, I think I just… saw you as competition. I mean, you were at every audition, how could I not? I think my mind just filled in the blanks? I don’t know.”

“Well, what do you know?” You asked, moving closer and causing her breath to hitch as she was caught between you and the door.

“I think… no, I know… you don’t… hate me either?”

She apprehensively searched your features for an answer, as what was supposed to be a statement came out as more of a question. You nodded, prompting her to exhale in relief before continuing.

“I know that I don’t have to see you as competition. I know that it may have taken me a while to realize it, but the time we’ve spent together on set has been the best month of my life. I know that I hate feeling vulnerable, so if you ever tell anyone about this I’ll deny it… and then I probably actually will hate you.”

You chuckled at her joke, and she began to relax as a warm smile spread across her face. By now, you had moved close enough that your faces were mere inches from each other, and you could just barely hear her breathing over the pounding of your heartbeat.

“So… what now?” You asked, secretly hoping for one specific answer.

She glanced down at your lips, eyeing them hungrily as she hesitated. “I, uh… I think I know… what I want that favor to be.”

Your eyes widened, surprised at her sudden bold demeanor. But as you gazed at her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, and eyes filled with a mixture of longing and apprehension, you knew there was nothing in the world that could stop you from fulfilling that favor.

Grabbing her jaw, you brought her face closer and crashed your lips together. A small gasp escaped her lips at first, but she soon grasped at your sides and started to kiss back. Her lips were soft, but her kisses were rough and passionate, something you weren’t surprised at given her usual fiery personality.

Her middle finger wrapped around one of the belt loops on your jeans, giving her leverage to pull you closer to her. A quiet whimper erupted from the back of your throat, the feeling of her body pressed against yours being enough to make your knees buckle. You grabbed onto the back of her neck for support, simultaneously pulling her towards you even more and spurring moans of approval from your newfound lover.

Eventually, you pulled apart, both of you gasping to catch your breath, but neither of you letting go of the other. As you stood there, wrapped in Ruby’s embrace, you couldn’t help but survey her features. Her eyes had darkened from overwhelming desire, and her lips were pink and puffy, coated with your saliva. Her originally shiny brunette locks were now disheveled, stray hairs sticking out from the static electricity of being thrust against the door.

She was a mess, but in that moment, you swore you had never seen anything more beautiful.

A breathy chuckle left her parted lips, breaking the silence. “I, uh… I was actually just gonna ask if you knew how to pick a lock.”

Your jaw dropped in shock as you stared at her, completely dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”

She shook her head no, erupting into laughter at her own joke. You glared at her, unamused, but soon found yourself stifling a giggle. Enemies or otherwise, Ruby was always going to be a sarcastic hothead, and nothing could change that.

“Wow…” she sighed breathlessly.

“I know…” you agreed. “Guess we should thank Calvin, huh?”

Ruby began to chuckle before her eyes suddenly widened in horror. “Shit, Calvin!”

“Yeah?” You questioned, confused at her change in demeanor. “What about Calvin?”

“He casted us together because we hated each other,” she whisper-screamed, eyes darting between you and the locked door. “Everything he’s done has been to fuel the fire: forcing us to share a trailer, locking us in here! He wants us to hate each other, he doesn’t care what it takes! If he finds out about this…”

Panic washed over you as your mind swarmed with possible things Calvin would do to taint your relationship if he found out about your feelings for each other.

“Shit,” you exclaimed. “What do we do?”

Ruby pursed her lips, deep in thought as she racked her brain for ideas. Suddenly, as if a lightbulb went off in her head, she turned to you with a wicked grin.

“We’re actors,” she replied. “We act.”

Gripping your shoulders, she walked you backwards before letting go and returning to her original position. Confusion painted your features; you didn’t know what Ruby was up to, but you were curious to find out.

“You are the most insufferable person I’ve ever met,” she exclaimed loudly. “In fact, you’re the last person I’d ever want to be stuck filming with!”

Her sudden shift in attitude left you puzzled and a little hurt, but you quickly understood her intentions after she shot you a sly wink.

“Oh yeah?” You retorted, playing along. “Right back atcha! In fact, if I never saw you again, it’d be too soon!”

Ruby stifled a laugh before quickly getting back into character. “I hate you!”

“I hate you more!”

“Fine!”

At this last remark, the sharp click of the lock sounded again, and the door swung open. Calvin stood in the doorway, a huge ear-to-ear grin spread across his face.

“Welcome back, you two.”

He left the door open, and motioned for you to follow him out. You started to exit the room, but as soon as Calvin’s back was turned, Ruby grabbed your wrist and spun you around to capture your lips in hers once again.

A sharp inhale echoed against the back of your throat as she took you by surprise, but you pulled her close and kissed her back in a heartbeat. This kiss was different from the last, with the newfound excitement mixing with the terrifying prospect of being caught. The rush of adrenalines had never tasted so sweet.

Ruby pulled back with haste, immediately looking over her shoulder to make sure Calvin didn’t see. When the coast was clear, she turned back to you with half-lidded eyes.

“I hate you,” she muttered, a goofy grin spreading across her face.

You giggled, covering your mouth to suppress the sound before leaning in to whisper in her ear.

“I hate you, too.”

226 notes · View notes

burn-before-reading · 2 months

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Love in the Time of Socialism

joost klein x artist!reader

art, mush, and ramblings about life

warnings: depression (ish), burnout, reader character in some vague mental health funk

word count: 2k

a/n: slight prequel to blue is the colour of your eyes but can be read as stand alone. just same artist reader. vaguely romantic but just ramblings and getting feelings out haha. started this when I was in more of a bad mental state (lol) but im fine now so it got kinda tame by the end of it. still not proofreading anything

title from the song Love in the Time of Socialism by Yellow House

Rpf below the cut—

Normally Joost has to call you because its the only way you will actually look at your phone. Its more often that not you find yourself fixated on planning out your next project, and your friends have to force you back into reality. There was that one time no one had heard from you in over a week and thought you were dead, when you were just working. You hadn’t realized how many texts you missed and apologized for scaring your friends half to death. Especially Joost.

So now you leave your ringer on, and now they call.

Tonight, however, Joost calls and you aren’t in your studio. You are in your bed, where you have been for the entire day. and also most of yesterday. There isn’t a reason in your head specifically why this has happened. you MEANT to get up. Theres a list of chores and things to do just sitting on your desk, but you woke up late, so now nothing will get done. At some point it just became too stressful to even get up and look at it. You roll over and stare at the contact picture of him, smiling with some dumb fish eye lens he thought was funny. You debate not picking up at all.

But you can’t ignore him.

“Hi Joost.” your voice came through the phone more hoarse than intended when you answered, you don’t remember the last time you talked to someone. “Whats going on?”

“the others wanted to go out for drinks tonight, you hadn’t responded so I wanted to check you were joining us.” You could imagine him rocking back and forth on his heels in the middle of his living room while he talked, it was either that or pacing around.

“uhh..” Drinks at a bar was the last thing on your mind. In any other situation you would have loved to be around your friends, but right now you just needed to avoided as much as possible. “Not a good night, tonight. Sorry, I’ll have to join you guys next time.”

Joost felt like something was off, you sounded tired. “Is everything okay?”

“I’ll be fine I just… shit brain day. bad brain thats all. It happens.” You did your best to summarize how you felt without actually admitting anything, you weren’t sure how to explain anything anyway.

“ Oh Im sorry, would it be good, if I came over? I can keep you company, if thats okay?”

“you don’t have to, I’ll be fine tomorrow. I want you to have fun. ” you insisted, but he pressed on.

“I don’t mind, the group would understand. Have you eaten today?”

“Like… a meal? yes, or well, no. I had a soda..” You glance at the half drunk soda from the night before, now flat. “and uhhh..”

“I’ll pick something up.” You could hear him on the other end gathering things together, keys, wallet, probably his ipad.

“.. thank you. I’ll see you in a bit, I guess.”

Joost knocked on your door about an hour later. In that time you were able to get out of bed and make your way to the bathroom to change and make yourself somewhat presentable in front of a guest, and to the kitchen to make coffee despite it being 8pm.

You opened it to see Joost with a sheepish smile as he extends his arms out for a hug. “Hi.”

“Hi Joost.” you take the step to hug him, feeling his body heat contrast with the cold nighttime. “I’m glad you’re here.” the two of you head inside to your living room where he empties his bag of take out to reveal a couple different thai dishes and egg rolls. It was hard to not admit you weren’t at least a little bit hungry.

The two of you ate in mostly silence, making small talk about different projects you two have going on, or the fact that the two of you were in between projects. He done with touring for the time being and in the process of working on a new album. You loosely avoiding talking about any current work plans but mentioned one or two paintings you finished for a private gallery commission last month.

“ Just some paintings of animals and nature-ish symbolism. Honestly my heart wasn’t really in that one, but it payed the rent so.” you shrug and shove noodles into your mouth.

“Well now you have the time to work on your own stuff, right?” he commented, leaning back into your couch and looking down at you sitting on the floor instead of any of your own furniture. “Draw whatever your heart desires.”

“I mean I guess.. Im just glad to be done with the oil paints for now. I swear i think I was gonna die in my studio from all the chemicals. I dunno, I finished that whole project last month, I haven’t really been very productive since then.” you trail off and Joost gets a concerned expression on his face.

He sinks down from his spot of the couch to join you in the floor. The fluffy rug brushing against his legs as he adjusts his new sitting position.

“Its okay to take a break, you know.”

“I know I know, I just get frustrated. I never seem to have my energy directed towards the right thing. Whenever I have all those big projects from other contractors, I can brainstorm and think of all these interesting ideas I wanna work on, but I can’t because then I would get behind on the art Im being paid to do.”

“mhm.” he nods, to indicate he’s following along.

“ And then whenever Im done with those projects, I just get… tired. and my focus is gone. and Everything just feels…” you gesture the last bit with your hands, scrambling your fingers, to imply your thoughts. You aren’t looking at him, but you can still see him nodding in your peripherals. Joost always seemed to understand your thinking and explanations to things, even if you thought they were messy.

“Do you want to try painting right now?” he asks. you just shrug your shoulders.

“I don’t know what I would paint.”

“You can paint our dinner, or, or yourself, or your plants maybe?” he suggested and stands up. “Can I paint too?”

“Oh we’re actually doing this?” Not that you didn’t want to, but this self doubt had creeped into your mind again. That failing to produce something decent would prove that you’ve lost all your talent, your skill.

“yea we can have a little painting party!” he chimed, but he hesitated walking over to your studio to grab stuff, still giving you the space to reject his idea.

you looked away and started nervously tapping your fork against the table.

tap tap tap tap

“…sure. We can use my watercolors, Ive been wanting to use them more often anyway.”

the coffee table became a little more cluttered as you set up the paints for the two of you. Joost using an old set 24 pans and you using a newer set of watercolor tubes you were gifted last year and never opened. You watched as Joost immediately dipped his brush in water and started activating the blue paints, spreading it onto his paper in big random strokes.

“what are you painting?”

“not sure yet, maybe im painting you.” he looks up and smirks. you scrunch your nose up.

“why are you using so much blue. am I a smurf?” you joke and he just shrugs and points to your own paper.

“Just mess around, can’t be any worse than what im doing.”

tap tap tap tap tap tap

you fidget with your own brush for a few seconds lo get before grabbing a big mop brush and wetting your paper with clean water. Taking your smaller brush again, you pour out a small amount of yellow and mix it up with some more water. You hesitate for a moment longer before letting the brush lightly touch the surface, creating a burst of colour on the paper as the colour seeps onto the page. You make a few more random marks before switching to another warm colour and repeating the process, now watching the colours bleeds and mix into each other. You look at Joost paper and see that he is actually now trying to paint you, the blue fortunately was able to be mostly contained to the background.

“Do you ever think about what you would do if you weren’t a musician?” you ask.

“I dunno I think after this I could have a pretty successful art career.” he teases but sees in your face the question is more serious. “I don’t know. I started off with youtube, but if I wasn’t doing that… its hard to think about what my life would be like if I didn’t follow this path.”

“I always have this feeling deep down, that I made a wrong choice somewhere along the line. I was thinking about going to school for psychology, I also wanted to work with animals at one point, be a vet. I enjoy art, don’t get me wrong, but I just worry that in making it my job Ive just drained all the passion I had for it.”

You let the paper dry before staining the page with lines of dark burgundy, creating hands and a human heart. he hums as he listens, not adding anything, but simply letting you vent. beginning to piece together your mood from earlier. “I don’t have any jobs lined up right now, which is what Ive been waiting for, to work on my own stuff, yknow? I haven’t had the time ive wanted to make something for myself for a while. But now I just feel, I feel like ive been frozen.”

“things seem to be okay right now. I like what youve made. ” you look down and see the scribbles youve made with your paint. hands clasped over a broken heart. you shrug and smile softly, signing the bottom.

“Just a scribble, you can have it if you want.” You hand the paper over to him. “thank you for coming by, its… its nice being around you. Helps a bit.”

Joost takes the paper and studies it for a second. “I really like it, maybe I should come by more often.”

“If you bring the food we can have art nights whenever you want.” he holds up his paper. The blue bleeding into your skintone and hair since he didn’t wait for anything to properly dry. “I might stick to my ipad though, I don’t know why you like this paint.” he scrunches his nose at it. you laugh and it makes him smile.

You notice for the first time how bright his eyes look when he smiles, but you brush the thought away.

“Feeling a bit better?” he asks as he lingers by the door on his way out.

“a bit. like I said It was just a mood, I was gonna be fine tomorrow most likely… I still appreciate you coming over.”

“Don’t ever be afraid to call or text okay? Im always here to talk if you need. or just to listen.”

“definitely. Ive been meaning to uh, talk to someone about all this stuff anyway, you’re not a professional but ill keep it in mind.”

he grins and goes in for one last hug. you feel him slightly squeeze you and linger a little longer than usual before letting go. With one last glance he waves and head off. You see him pull out a cigarette for the walk back. It takes you a second to close the door. standing there watching him walk off until he turns a corner and disappears. Closing the door you sigh and go the clean up your living room.

You notice he left the portrait he drew of you. signed at the bottom with a smiley face next to his name.

It gets hung up in your studio above your desk.

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost fanfic #joost klein fanfic #joost klein x you #rpf #eurovision #artist!reader #vague mental state #mental health issues #whoops #mush #i hate endings #no beta we die like men

108 notes · View notes

httpsserene · 1 year

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ꜱɪɴɢɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴡᴇʀ w/ ʟɴ4

📖ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: lando’s usually well spent sunday off with his girlfriend is different this time around. you put off your everything shower and wash-day causing some edits to the usual routine. how the night ends, however, is 100% lando’s fault. 📖ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: fluff/borderline?crack(if u think im funny). one or two mentions of sex, not explicit at all. not edited to beta-read. 📖ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2k words 📖ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: lando norris x black!fem!reader 📖ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: oneshot 📖ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ: singing in the shower ~ becky g

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴀᴄᴇ: preface: hello! it’s late night or early morning for me, i guess, when i’m posting this. i was going to say this is my first rpf ever, but that’s a bold-faced lie ☠️but! it is my first f1 work! i hope you enjoy it! i’d love to have some f1 mutuals out here, if anyone wants <3. also requests are open, just come talk to me and ramble about anything, or any idea you have the f1 boys, i’d love to have some great anons and asks to fulfill. hope you enjoy it :)

it’s a rare sunday where you and lando are both home together. usually you two would take advantage of this and make the most out of it. you’d lay in bed late into the morning with an excessively cuddly boyfriend, cook a nice and healthy brunch together you cook, lando handles the soundtrack and vibes because he loses all coordination in the kitchen, play a co-op video game that you guys have been working your way through for a month, go out on a nice little dinner date, and have great sex before knocking out.

HOWEVER, this week you have kinda forgotten that you need to do your hair. originally you had an appointment that tuesday to get a silk press done with your usual hairstylist, but she canceled on you. once you got that “hey girly...” text you’d known there was no hope of rescheduling, for that week at least. so, you decided to do your own hair sometime later in the week, but your boyfriend was home for the first time after a triple-header, and was a terrible lovely distraction. you also had to work, unfortunately, you had to clean the flat, you had to eat, and you had to breathe—so understandably, you’ve ended up pushing your wash-day/hair-day and everything-shower to the last minute.

you apologized several times to lando during breakfast for your forgetfulness and wasting valuable “boyfriend-girlfriend time” as lando coined. but lando is lando—a sweetheart at his core—so he refused to accept your apologies with an “don’t apologize for something so minor, love,” and even offered to help you tackle the fight you end up almost losing every time…. vs. your hair.

you kindly denied his assistance knowing damn well that if he was in the shower with you, your hair wouldn’t be done until late that night due to a different type of lando-distraction. you suggested that lando streamed while you were doing your shower and hair, and that you could still go out for dinner that evening. lando was pretty receptive to the idea, especially after he made sure that you were 100% okay with him not helping you do your hair (he usually does, you’ve got him trained pretty good; all he needs is the license at this point), and the fact that it’s been like 3 months since he last streamed.

lando posts that he’s streaming starting at noon, and after a brief make out against the sink post-dishwashing that leaves your lips swollen and head foggy, he goes to take a shower and start setting up his stream equipment. cursing lando’s smug-ass face as he walks away, you let him know that you're stepping out to the beauty supply store to get a few items before you start your little routine and that you might not see him before his stream starts. he does a 180, and rushes back to you from down the hallway to give you one more mind boggling kiss and with a smile says, “text me when you get there and when you’re back. i’ll have my phone on dnd but your messages are set to pass through it, so if you don’t want to be seen on stream today you don’t have to worry about it.” internally, you’re pretty sure your heart just imploded at the mindfulness this boy has—that your boyfriend has. somehow, it still surprises you how mature lando is for how silly he acts most of the time.

“you’re too sweet to me, lan.” you respond with a shy smile, “i probably won’t interrupt you today—i’ll let your delulu fans have custody, and deal with you!” lando throws his head back and does his usual demonic laugh, “hey! my fans are not that delusional, but i am afraid that you’re losing the custody battle!” he kisses you on the cheek, and with that you separate until later that day.

or so you thought. you knew lando’s super sweet behavior was too sus without him being his usual gremlin-self at least once.

when you get back from the beauty supply store (which should’ve been a fifteen-minute trip at most, turned into a near hour after the usual shenanigans you find yourself involved in buying things you don’t need), lando’s already started his stream. you text him letting him know you’re about to hop into the shower, and start heading to en-suite bathroom.

when you open the door, the mirror is slightly covered with remaining steam from lando’s shower, and you can see his clothes hanging half-inside the hamper. which is an improvement from being left on the floor—choose your battles, ladies. but as you move further into the bathroom, setting down your everything-shower supplies, changing into your silk robe and bonnet—you pick up on a lingering scent that should not be present.

your ninety-four fucking dollar scalp revival shampoo.

you’ve had that shampoo since you were seventeen, using it only when extremely necessary. you didn’t even pay for it, it was something your mom bought you as a pretty thoughtful and useful gift after you complained about your scalp suddenly getting super sensitive. it lasted through your senior year of grade school, all of university, and goddamn-it, two boyfriends!!! you let out a bit of an hysterical giggle (seek mental help, babe) and walk to the shower to grab the jar. the problem is: you know there was only probably one more usage left.

turning the cap off, your worst fears are confirmed...it’s…empty. with an anguished cry, you fall to your knees on the tiled floor—it’s like your childhood pet died. you gently set the jar down on the floor, and stare dazedly at the ceiling. what makes it worse is: you know that lando probably didn’t even use it properly. he most likely didn’t even let it sit for the mandatory 15 minutes that all girls do as an excuse to waste more time in the shower, he prob- he probably rinsed it out right after he massaged it in; that thought right there almost had you crying. oh, and what makes it even worse-r , what was a one-use sized amount for you was like, three for lando, so if he used it sparingly, you would’ve at least gotten to cherish it for the last time.

and with that, you rise from the floor, like some sort of re-animated monster—and with a twitching eye, start stomping to lando’s stream room. before you barge in, you remember what you're wearing: a black silk robe, matching bonnet, glasses, and your cute orange shark slides (lando bought them for you, he has a matching pair). you do the mental math of caring about this being on the internet for the rest of your life, but eventually the opportunity of terrorizing lando wins out over whatever a digital footprint is.

the door swings open, and with your shout of, “lando norris!” the pinging of his chat becomes rapid. lando looks wide-eyed at the camera and whispers, “oh fuck.” he half spins in his chair to look at you in the doorway, and is met with a flying shark slide to the neck. “oW! what did i do??” he cries out.

“you used the last of my ONE-HUNDRED DOLLAR shampoo, YOU THIEVING GREMLIN!!!” the chat notifications start cutting each other off with how fast they’re being sent.

“i didn’t use your shampoo??” he says with a bewildered look, clutching the shark slide to his chest. you seethe, “the fucking WOODEN JAR, that you didn’t even have the AUDACITY throw away, and left in the shower?!”

lando pauses, and makes an ‘a-ha’ sort of face goes, “oh, i thought that was conditioner.” you scream again and this time you don’t miss your mark. the remaining shark slide bonks him right on the forehead. “oW, again?!”

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE GOOD REACTION TIME??!”

“yEAH?! WELL, i didn’t expect MY GIRLFRIEND to ASSAULT ME with the shark slides that I bought HER!!”

“yEAH?! WELL, i didn’t expect MY BOYFRIEND to waste MY hair products!!”

lando cackles but surrenders, he reaches for you in the doorway and pulls you in between his legs with his hands gripping your hips.

he pouts, “i’m sorry. i can buy you another batch, if you’d like. if you need it for your shower right now, i can pause the stream and run and go get for you, or get it delivered?” you sigh, looking at his wide blue eyes. you let him stew for a minute, trying to find it in you to remain mad. his thumbs start petting you gently while you think, and he leans his head forward to rest on your tummy.

you sigh again, hand coming up to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck, and cave, “nah..don’t even worry about it. i don’t even need to use it today, i just wanted to remind you to keep your nosy-ass away from my hair products.” he nods against your abdomen, you start to pull away, and he does the same. you lean down and give him a brief peck on the cheek, and turn to exit the room.

“oh!” you exclaim now in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, “i love you, even though you steal all my shit.”

lando giggles, cheeks turning a light pink, “i love you, princess,” the simp dripping out of every pore in his body. you point at him, “this is actually a mutually beneficial situation! now, for date night you can take me to the store to buy hair products,” lando’s smile drops, “don’t worry we can get some for you too, curly boy!” lando doesn’t even try to fight it once he sees the borderline manic grin on your face, just begging him to test you one more time. he accepts his face, “yes, love. i can’t wait for tonight, princess.”

he turns back to his stream when the door closes all the way and shakes his head. he claps his hands once, ready to get back into it, but you burst in again,

“and when i get out of that damn shower in an hour—you’re sure as hell gonna help blow dry and flat iron this shit! it’s silk press season, lando norris, we cannot be caught slacking!” you slam the door shut, and leave.

lando just blinks at the camera, mouth slightly open like that one pikachu meme. he briefly reads the chat, trying to recover, and looks at all of the chatters pick on him like he just got called to the dean’s office. some messages start to roll in about him having to end the stream.

he waits to hear the bedroom door shut, and a few more seconds for the shower to start running before he pseudo-whispers into the mic, “don’t worry, chat! she may have said an hour, but we actually have more like three. it’s her ‘everything-shower’, no-way she’ll finish that quickly. she needs an hour just to sing and dance in there before she starts actually doing anything.”

he starts to open a lobby in cod, sending invites to a few of the boys online and his phone starts vibrating on the desk. the chat starts to go wild again, recognizing its the ringtone he set for your messages. his face drops again when he opens your text thread, “oh my god, chat. she heard me, i forgot she pulls up the stream for background noise. i’m screwed.”

yninstagram • 2hrs ago

liked by landonorris, ybfsinstagram, and 123,978 others

yninstagram hairstylist did his thing for silk press season 👅

tagged landonorris

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landonorris can’t even see our faces but you can’t tell we’re both pretty

➥yninstagram pretty gyal takeover

➥user bro 😭 i can’t even call this sassy

➥user he’s just keeping it real with y’all

landonorris i’ll always take care of you like a princess

➥landonorris and one day very soon, forever treat you like a queen

➥ynistagram lan ☹️🥺

➥user proposal hint?!!!

➥user it’s a 4ever thing y’all wouldn’t understand 🥱

➥user i do 🙄 y/n comes home one day every two years and takes care of our eight children

➥user bitch—LMFAOOO

user not her gatekeeping the stylist 😤 not very girl’s girl of her

➥yninstagram he’s booked out for the foreseeable future sorry babe

➥user oh uh. that’s completely understandable. he doesn’t take walk in’s ? 😃

landonorris • 3hrs ago

liked by yninstagram, maxfewtrell, and 2,321,768 others

landonorris you attract what you fear? word, oh no a pretty gyal who lets me do her hair😱 oohhhhh how scaryyy

tagged yninstagram

view comments

yninstagram damn 🥵 she’s pretty fit

yninstagram heard her boyfriend’s finer

➥landonorris shouldn’t listen to gossip, her bf can’t match her beauty by far

➥user now THATS SOME RIZZ i didn’t know he had it in him

carlossainzjr y/nnita keep brainwashing him i’m getting good teasing material

➥ynistagram sí señor, el gusto es mio

➥carlossainzjr aye,lando her spanish is better than yours🤣

➥landonorris my tractor is better than yours, mmm yeah that’s what i thought

➥user DAMN LANDO CHILL

➥yninstagram he will be issuing a formal apology at the paddock next sunday señor sainz

➥user i just KNOW she got him at shark slide-point

#serene’s chapters.#serene’s fave.#✩°｡⋆⸜ fanfic.#♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: ln.#⋆⭒˚｡⋆. series special: formula 1 #lando norris x reader #formula 1 x reader #lando norris x female reader #lando norris #formula 1 x black!reader #lando norris x black!reader #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x yn #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x you #mclaren

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arazialotis · 1 month

Text

Get Him to the Con - Part 10

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 6520

Story Summary: The reader stumbles into Jensen at her favorite bar, a very drunk Jensen. She soon realizes Jensen was booked for a con this weekend and has to be eight hours from town in only two.

Chapter Summary: Y/n visits Vancouver to see Jensen and, more importantly, to try to win Jared over.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Warnings: Always language. Grumpy Jared. After dinner, well, it gets NSFW 🌶️🌶️, 18+ Only

Although this is an RPF, these are fabricated characters and should not reflect back IRL. I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as a coping skill. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

----

The black Escalade wove through the Vancouver traffic, the sun beating down, melting the piles of slushy remnants from the first snow. What should have been an eagerly anticipated moment for your arrival was tense. Behind the wheel, Jensen was trying to be the bridge between you and his best friend.

“Lighten up, man. Y/n’s really excited to be out here again and wants nothing more than to hang out and cook us a nice meal.” Jensen pleaded your case.

He, in fact, suggested pizza on the risk of jetlag, but you had insisted, falling back onto the age-old idiom ‘the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.’ You already had one of their hearts, and you were convinced you could make Jared warm up to you, too, if only he saw you as who you were and not as a clingy fangirl. Yet you felt that rift growing every time you saw him. And the last thing you wanted was for Jensen to be caught in the middle.

“Would you try to like her? For me? Please.” Jensen nearly begged when Jared didn’t respond.

At least he was in the car, though Jensen didn’t give him a choice, with this outing as a pretense of drinks after work.

Jensen tried one more time, fed up with Jared’s stubbornness. “At least act nice.”

That got his attention. “Act nice? I’ll play nice if she does.” The accusation hanging heaving.

Jensen furrowed his brow. “Y/n doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.” Okay, you had a bit of a temper, were known to hold a grudge, and had a smart mouth, but Jared didn’t need to know that.

Jared scoffed. “Last time she came out, she literally laughed and criticized me for overacting.”

Jensen’s confusion grew, trying to remember the last time you came out. Then, the realization hit him as the three of you watched the latest episode together in another futile attempt for Jensen to foster peace.

Despite the animosity, Jensen couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, she laughed at a scene and apologized immediately, saying it was hard to take the show seriously now that she knows us. And I said that wasn’t it; it’s probably because you took your acting lessons from Bruce Campbell." His tongue peeked out between his teeth as he attempted and failed to control another giggle, still quite proud of the slight.

“It was a serious scene. I was acting my heart out.” Jared stressed. “You had just gotten back from hell.”

Jensen lost the smile. “In her defense, it does lose its impactfulness after the 17th time.”

“Whatever, man.” Jared pouted, looking out the window.

Jensen rolled his eyes and prayed to any god that would listen. “Would it make you feel better if we watch Devour together after dinner? Then we’ll just laugh at me.”

Jared said nothing, not taking the bait. The clicking of the blinker filled the silence as Jensen waited to turn toward the arrival gates. Jared ran his fingers through his hair as Jensen pursed his lips together, trying to think of something, anything. The light turned green.

“I don’t even know why I am here. Y/n has, like, what, two full days out here? You should be spending it together without having to worry about me third-wheeling. I’m sure there are other things that you would prefer to occupy time you don’t get over Zoom.” Jared rambled out loud.

Jensen’s eyes tightly blinked shut momentarily as he began seeking out an open spot at the curb. Jared was right, of course, only on account of his last thought, but he wouldn’t be at peace until he had the blessing of his best friend. Jensen inhaled through his nose, held his breath, and released through his mouth.

“It is important to me that you and Y/n find some common ground. If you gave her even the slightest chance, I’m positive you would start to like her.” He said calmly as he put the car into park.

“Why does it matter so much to you if I like her?” Jared pushed. To him, you were still only a rebound after Elena.

And then it hit him. Maybe Jared’s denial of his true fear of being replaced had come true.

“Because she’s my best friend and I love her!” He declared and then laughed through the shock.

It was the first time he had admitted it out loud. The silence was palpable as both men processed the weight of the words. Jensen wasn’t one to open up lightly. He felt deeply, but he was always careful with those emotions, cautious even. It had taken nearly two years before he said the same to Elena. Another before they started looking at rings. Maybe because it was one of the first serious relationships he had since the start of his career. The depth and commitment he had felt with her made the falling out that much more disastrous. He had fortified his walls to be higher and more impenetrable. Then you came out of nowhere and shattered everything he thought he knew about himself. He felt like a caged bird learning for the first time how to spread its wings, to feel the breeze on its face, and the warmth of the sun. With you, he felt free.

Jared’s eyes darted back and forth as if reading his thoughts, finding the right response. Jensen squeezed the steering wheel and nodded his head. “I love her.” He said again, the realization hitting him, fully knowing it was true. But then the terror of the statement hit him. The car door shuttered open, and the catapult of a backpack rolling over the seatbench crashing at the other end pulled Jared from his thoughts as you entered the car.

“Hiya!” You squeaked.

You pulled the door close with a thud and clicked on your seatbelt. You cleared your throat, looking up, momentarily afraid you jumped in the wrong car. But it was Jensen and Jared, alright. Jensen stared directly ahead, his face as white as if seeing a ghost. Jared scrutinized his friend. You sank back in your seat. You had thrown yourself directly into something.

Jared turned in his seat, blinking rapidly and addressing you in the most amiable tone he had ever taken with you. “Hi Y/n. Um, would you mind giving us a minute?”

Oh, you had definitely walked into something. It took you a minute to process this, but then you began fumbling with the seatbelt, “Yeah. Yeah. Of course.” And vacated the Escalade as fast as possible.

Jared’s brow furrowed, and he leaned closer to a whisper as you aimlessly knocked your fists together outside on the sidewalk. “You love her?”

He chuckled again and ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I really do.”

Jared knew he should be happy for Jensen, knew they should be celebrating this, offering congratulations, but all he felt was dread.

“Have you told her?” Jared asked.

“Nah, you’re the first to know.” Jensen clapped Jared on the shoulder. “I want the moment to be right, you know. I want to be able to remember it for a long time.”

Jared thought about faking it, but he had to be real with Jensen. “You don’t know her.”

That set him off. “Why are you so set against her? Why can’t you be happy for me? I do know her. I’ve known her for seven months, been dating her for 4 of those, and talk to her almost daily.” His voice went up an octave higher. “I don’t know why I have to keep justifying my choices to you, man? When will it ever be good enough for you?”

Jared didn’t take the bait. “But you don’t know her. How can you truly? You haven’t met her friends or her family, and it sounds like her mom is a real piece of work. Are you ready to deal with that?”

Outside the car, airport security approached you. Both boys could tell from your over-exaggerated gestures that you were attempting to buy them more time.

Jared continued. “And no offense, but she isn’t spotlight material.”

“Fuck you.” Jensen's blood boiled over. He was about to leave the car to find another way to get back into the city. At that moment, he never wanted to see Jared again.

“Come on. Give me a break. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Though he kind of did. “All I’m saying is that if you truly are that committed to her, that this isn’t some fling, you should think about preparing her for the kind of attention it will warrant. The good, the bad, and the ugly. That kind of stress and attention can ruin a person.”

Jensen didn’t respond but wrung his hands on the steering wheel. There was a knock on the window.

“Please, know I’m just trying to look out for you,” Jared whispered as he began rolling down the window.

“Nobody asked you to.” Jensen snipped back before the security guard started to chew them out.

As the boys were on the receiving end of a very stern lecture, you slipped as quietly as possible into the back seat to avoid further angering or endangering yourself with security. Yes, spending a night in jail was on your bucket list, but this is not what you had in mind.

“Sorry, officer,” Jensen ended a profuse apology before hightailing it out of there.

You weren’t sure exactly what you missed, but the air hung thick with tension. Nobody spoke. There was only the hum of tires on the road. It hit you that Jensen never even acknowledged you. You fiddled with a loose stitch on the seat in front of you.

After five minutes and starting to get out of airport traffic, you couldn’t handle it anymore. “So…” You drew the word out, unsure how to break into a conversation.

Jensen blinked, realizing you had no reason to be as upset as him and that it was unfair to suffer from their drama, especially when you were not privy to it.

He cleared his throat. “I got the groceries you requested delivered.” However, he didn’t know how the three of you would sit through a dinner together.

“Oh, good! I’m starving. Airport food never really hits the spot, but the Cajun snack mix does kinda slap.” You rambled, trying for anything to get them talking.

They both hmmed in response. You were about to ask them about their favorite airport snack, but thank the gods, it was Jared who surprisingly saved you.

“What’s for dinner then?” He was trying. He had fucked up. He knew it. This was how he could try to make amends with Jensen.

You beamed, having perfectly planned it out, trying to finally win Jared over to your side. “We’ll start with a strawberry, basil, and balsamic whipped burrata and roasted bone marrow. Then, a small lemon watercress-radicchio salad for a palate cleanser before moving on to a butter-basted ribeye accompanied by potatoes au gratin and crispy brussel sprouts with mustard seeds and pomegranate.”

Jared’s stomach rumbled. Goddammit, that sounded good.

“And, I was considering a dessert, but Jensen said I already had enough going on, and because baking isn’t my strong suit, I let him handle the rest.” You explained. “You did handle the rest, didn’t you?”

Jensen's anger melted a little. With a smirk, he said, “Yeah, a tub of vanilla ice cream.”

Your heart dropped. “Stop.” There was a glint of teasing in his eyes as he looked at you through the rearview mirror, but the rest of his face remained deadpan. You couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. “Okay, I guess I could repropose what I had in mind for the burrata, and if you have sugar on hand and something salty and crunchy, we could do a quick brittle. Oooh, maybe the cajun snack mix. Or perhaps…”

“Y/n! I’m messing with you. I have an assortment ordered from Thomas Haas.” He winked at you in the mirror.

Thomas Haas meant little to you, but anything would be better than a tub of ice cream. Okay, a tub of ice cream had its time and place, but not when you were working so hard to impress Jared. Still, you eyed Jensen skeptically, unsure if it would measure up.

“Some of the best in Vancouver,” Jared assured. “I’m sure it will compliment your dinner perfectly. I can’t wait. It all sounds very delicious.”

“Hmm.” You looked between the two of them.

There were still too many questions unanswered. What were they talking about before you arrived? Could you trust either of them to select a quality dessert or would you have to resort to brittle anyways? Were you now on a no-fly list due to the tiff with the security guard? When could you get Jensen alone (this stern look painted on his face was doing things you couldn’t control)? But most importantly, why was Jared acting so nice?

“I’ve had bone marrow before, but only in restaurants,” Jared continued. “I didn’t realize it could be done at home.”

“Oh yeah, it’s actually super simple if you can find a good butcher.” You explained.

Jensen interjected. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s been binging The Bear, and now her only goal is to become an Iron Chef.”

You smirked, impressed he even knew what an Iron Chef was. Aside from eating food, anything kitchen-related was the furthest on his interest list. You were rubbing off on him.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “It’s the easiest cheat code appetizer if you want to impress someone. You toast some bread, toss the marrow in the oven for twenty minutes, and add a few accouterments to a serving board. And bam, done.”

Jared laughed, actually laughed. “I’m sure you are underselling yourself. From what Jensen has told me, you are an excellent cook. I can’t wait to see it all come together.”

Jensen glared at Jared out of the side of his eye, the anger resurfacing. He was laying it on thick. Too thick.

You squinted, eyes darting back and forth between them. This wasn’t going to plan. You were supposed to cook the food and then become BFFs with Jared. This was happening too quickly. But perhaps you should take it for what it was. Maybe you had stuck around long enough for him to finally accept you. Or Jensen had talked you up enough. Whatever the reason, you had to stop ruminating on it. All you had to do was get through dinner. Perhaps after, you could corner Jensen into an explanation.

It wasn’t long until you pulled into the parking garage adjoined to the condos. Jensen popped the trunk, surprised to find it empty.

“Where’s your luggage?” He asked, oblivious as his conversation with Jared required most of his mental capacity.

You held up your backpack as a response, and his brow furrowed with confusion.

“What’s wrong? Are you ill?” He pestered, placing the back of his hand against your forehead.

“Shut up.” You snipped and then explained. “I’m practicing becoming a lighter packer.” You lowered your voice to a whisper. “Besides, I recall not needing much clothing last visit.”

Jensen raised his eyebrows, reminiscing, and then nuzzled his nose into your neck in anticipation of this weekend. Jared, having overheard, rolled his eyes and fought a gag. You laughed as Jensen pulled away, his eyelashes tickling your cheeks. And Jared plastered on his fake smile yet again.

“Let’s get upstairs,” He said. “I’m starving.”

-----

Dinner was coming along nicely. You were basting the last of the steaks in butter, and the boys were watching the end of a game in the living room. The thoroughly cleaned plates on the coffee table were the only lingering evidence that there had been appetizers. You snuck a bit here and there, but it was mostly to keep the two of them from sniffing around the kitchen.

With a final splash of liquid, the steak was done—perfect caramelization and crust. Now, the potatoes. You checked the timer—ten minutes, enough time for the steak to rest. And the Brussels? Shit. You scooped the last of them out of the oil in the nick of time. You generously salted them and would add the pomegranate molasses after plating. Satisfied with how it was all wrapping up, you whipped Jensen’s once pristinely white dish towel over your shoulder. There was a shuffling behind you as you began cleaning what you could.

“Need any help?” Jensen asked.

You were about to shoo him out when you heard the scrape of a knife. You snapped your head around to catch him red-handed. He stared at you like a deer in the headlights, the end of one steak pinched between his fingers and the knife hovering millimeters above. You scowled, and Jensen slowly set the knife down, held his hands in surrender, and backed up.

Your scowl melted into a smile. “A couple of minutes longer. If you’d like to help, you can set the table.”

He straightened. “Yes, chef.”

You playfully stuck out your tongue and whipped the dish towel in his direction, earning an exaggerated yelp.

Finally, after a few minutes passed, you brought the final plate to the table and scooched in. Jensen didn’t hesitate and dove in.

With a full mouth, he mumbled, “If this tastes as good as it…” Then it hit him, and his eyes rolled back in pure delight. “Oh god.”

Jared went in a little slower, cutting his steak and bringing it past his lips. He took several testing bites and paused, glaring at you. He was actually glaring at you. Dropping the act, he’d kept up all night, pissed at how good it tasted. He knew what tonight had been about. About you trying to butter him up, quite literally with butter braised steak. And god dammit. It was a good steak. And he was mad about it.

“Fuck.” Jared cursed aloud, snapping your and Jensen’s attention to him. “Fuck, that’s good.”

You smiled sheepishly, looking down at your plate. “I can’t say I’ve had that reaction before. Not quite as orgasmic as I was hoping for, maybe if I adjusted the…” Your face went pale, realizing the last part was out loud.

Jensen snorted, and Jared even cracked a smirk.

“So, um,” You attempted a recovery. “How was work this week?”

A few minutes of silence passed as Jensen gave Jared a chance to answer. When he didn't and caught him glaring again, Jensen kicked his shin under the table, prompting him further.

Jared grunted. “Well, hours weren't as shitty as usual.”

“Cause Collins hasn't been around.” Jensen teasingly interjected.

Jared chuckled. “Yeah, not as many retakes. Finally, it feels like we're making some progress this season.”

You nodded. The three of you looked back and forth, trying to gauge whether it was appropriate to continue the conversation or return to eating.

“What about you?” Jared coughed before going in for another bite.

“Same old.” You simply stated.

Silverware scraped against plates. A clock ticked in the living room. The sounds of the city rose from the streets. You dabbed the corner of your mouth with the black cloth napkin, then considered it. You’d be willing to bet good money this was the first time Jensen ever pulled them out.

Jensen tried again to spark the conversation again. “Should we talk Vegas?”

Your eyes lit up excitedly, ready to discuss a plan and details.

“So, about that,” Jared started. Jensen didn’t hide his scowl, but Jared's eyes widened, challenging him. “It’s not often we get that kind of time off work, and I’m going to meet Gen in Austin.”

Ah, so dinner wasn’t the wondrous miracle you hoped it would be. You cursed yourself for not trying a Wellington. Jensen reached under the table to graze your thigh, trying to communicate that this had nothing to do with you.

“Why doesn’t she join us?” Jensen shrewdly offered.

Jared’s lips formed a thin line before countering. “Actually, we are going to use the time to do some house hunting.” He hesitated for a minute. “We’ve started talking about, um, the next steps in starting our family.”

Kids? Oh god, Jensen was going to be an uncle. He was already an uncle to Harper’s clan, but this was Jared. All the tension momentarily evaporated as you both offered your excitement and congratulations.

“Yeah, our current setup isn’t going to cut it. We need more space, a yard.” Jared explained. “Y/n, are you interested in kids?”

Jensen choked on the last piece of steak, recovering with a swig of wine. The temporary peace was broken yet again.

“Oh, um.” You stammered, trying to think of a response. Every couple (that was serious, that is) had to come across this question. You just didn’t picture you were there yet with Jensen. And you didn’t picture the conversation would come about this way. “Well, I’ve recently only managed to keep a house plant alive, so maybe the next step is like a cat or something before moving onto a…” You gulped. “A child.”

“Hmm. So you haven’t given it much thought?” He clarified.

“I mean,” Heat was rising to your cheeks. “It might not be my first choice, looking after a little drooling, monstrous carbon copy. Don’t get me wrong, I love being Aunt Y/n to my niece but one of my own. It’s a lot of responsibility and sacrifice and time and money… I don’t know. There’s a lot of benefits, too, I’m sure. You and Gen will be fantastic parents!”

“Interesting.” Jared ignored your last comment. “Wasn’t it in Colorado that you said you’d have Jensen’s babies? Or maybe that’s changed after you got to know him more.” He chuckled a bit, trying to conceal it as a joke.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Jensen attempted to shut this down.

“No, I never actually said that.” You talked over him and defended yourself. “Casey, a fan, although more than well-meaning, took several liberties that day. A decision that big should require careful consideration rather than something silly like initial attraction or blind devotion, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” he responded sincerely. “Such as your partner’s thoughts on the issue. Gen and I knew immediately that growing our family was an intention for our relationship. Jensen, you’ve always wanted kids, haven’t you?”

If looks could kill, Jared would currently be en route to the nearest morgue. But then he caught a glance at your wide, curious eyes awaiting an answer. There’s no way he would lie about this. Yet, this was the first time the subject of the long-term future had been broached. He swallowed the lump in his throat with another dose of wine, then threw his napkin on his plate.

“I have always seen my future with one or two kiddos running around.” He spoke softly and slowly. “But if my partner wasn’t on board, there’s no way I’d force that upon them. The two of us would always come first.”

Jared raised his eyebrows and nodded, staying silent as he finished his last bite.

You filled the silence instead, unable to handle the pause in conversation. “Similarly, I would never want to deny my future partner if that was something that was really important to them.”

Jensen closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. This wasn’t a relationship-ending kind of conversation. You did share common ground. And it was each other.

“That seems like a lot of sacrifice.” Jared circled back to the earlier point.

“But what is love?” You asked back.

Jensen whined a high-pitched melody under his breath, “Baby, don’t hurt me,” so over this conversation.

But Jared and you were beyond dialed in.

“You want to define that here, tonight?” Jared pushed. “Scholars, philosophers, religions; they’ve been trying to do that since the dawn of humanity.”

“Many of which have brought it back to sacrifice.”

“And many of which have used that ideal to perpetuate cycles of horrendous abuse.”

You pushed your plate aside, needing the space to talk with your hands. “I’m not denying that. But if you are talking on an individual level about two people in love outside of an institution, there are many components, but sacrifice is usually one of them.”

“So you’re arguing you shouldn’t be happy for the sake of the other person?”

“I’m arguing,” You strained. “Both people in the relationship sacrifice for each other, and not only are they happy to do so, but it is a privilege. You lift each other up and balance the other, and there is a net gain rather than elevating one over the other, becoming nothing more than a mere doormat. Trust me, I’ve been around enough narcissists to understand that never ends well.”

“So that’s your conclusion: love is sacrifice?” Jared asked.

Was he trying to trap you? “Like I said, it’s a component. But at the end of the day, I’d say love is a choice. There’s those initial feelings of lust and excitement and newness that will eventually fade away. And you’ll get on each other’s nerves, and there’ll be tears and fighting, and hell, we all get old, and gravity always wins. There’ll be moments where you have to choose. In fact, there’ll probably be moments where you choose not to. At the end of the day, I’d like to end up with someone who is my best friend above all else because you’ll have that to fall back on when it's hard to love.”

Jared didn’t say it contradictory but as a compliment to your point. “Friendship is its own kind of love.” He looked to Jensen apologetically.

“Very true.” You agreed. “What do you think, Jensen?”

Jensen sighed and shook his head. He stood up to start clearing the table. “It’s a mystery. Sometimes love is just love.”

You began stacking the dishes, bringing them to the kitchen as well. “It defies explanation, logic even.” You added.

Jared grabbed the bottle of wine, refilled glasses, and brought the fresh pour to you. “And definition. It’s the ultimate expression of humanity, isn’t it? To wrestle with complex concepts.”

You chuckled, taking a sip. “I guess that’s based on how you define humanity.”

Jared leaned against the counter. “Well…”

Jensen snapped up from putting plates in the dishwasher. “How about a movie?”

Jared lost his train of thought. “I have kind of been in the mood for The Matrix.”

You beamed. Perhaps this disaster of a night wasn’t ruined after all. It would be the perfect opportunity to bring up simulation theory with Jared. From what Jensen told you, Jared loved debating and theorizing over abstract topics. It would be the perfect foot in. Maybe you could impress him after all.

Jensen caught the mischievous look in your eye. He shook his head. “Don’t…”

But you beat him to it. “That sounds perfect!”

---

Later that night, hours after discussing perceived reality, you hovered over the kitchen sink, scrubbing down the remaining mess. Jared was long gone but thanked you for a pleasant evening. Jensen came up behind you, stripped down to his undershirt and briefs. He pulled your waist to his, wrapping his grasp around your hips, and nuzzled closer.

“Come to bed.” He whispered into your neck.

You half-moaned, leaning into his touch. “I just have a few more.”

“That’s what the dishwasher is for.” He said.

You paused and stiffened. “And ruin the finish on this cast iron? You monster.” Jensen gave a light chuckle before closing his eyes against your skin as you continued. “How do you think tonight went?”

He sighed, chewing it over.

“I know.” You agreed. “I should have done the Wellington.” That earned you a pinch to the side. You yelped. “Not when I’m washing the knives!”

“Honestly,” Jensen started. “I don’t know what to think.”

You took a deep gulp and turned off the faucet before turning to face him. You searched his eyes and ran your pruned thumb against his cheek.

“I don’t want to come between you two.” You strained.

He took your hand and his and glided your knuckles across his lips.

“You’re not.” He whispered.

Your glare pierced him.

Jensen continued. “He’s coming around, albeit slowly.” He added as your gaze held, “I promise.”

Your breath released, and the tension left your body, too tired to challenge him further.

“Come on, off to bed.” He instructed.

But you turned around and yawned, “Only a few more.”

Suddenly, you were swooped up and being carried away from the kitchen. “The rest can wait.”

You hit the mattress, immediately sinking into the plush duvet and feathered pillows. Jensen followed, his warmth and weight wrapping around you. The day's weight full of travel, cooking, cleaning, debating, and worrying all hit you instantly. You closed your eyes, darkness quickly closing in. Yet you couldn’t ignore the lips peppering slow, soft kisses at the edge of your navel.

“Mmmm. Jensen, I’m tired.” You moaned over the response your body had to his touch. His fingers danced along the hem of your shirt, trailing higher. Between kisses, he breathed. “You won’t have to do a thing.”

You popped an eye open and raised an eyebrow, looking down at him through the darkness. The city lights illuminated his features. There was a feral glow in his eyes, waiting for that sweet, sweet permission he longed to hear.

“Are you proposing to use me?” You questioned, rubbing your thighs tighter, seeking pressure to alleviate the quickly growing need.

And he knew it, too. A smirk that would impress even the devil crossed his lips. “That depends,” He brought his hand from your ribs, prying your thighs apart, and you whined in response. “Would you like to be used?”

You nodded even though you could barely keep your eyes open, “Very much.”

He made quick work of your clothing, your lazy attempts to help only impeding the process. The cold air of the condo brushed over your skin, providing temporary alertness as your hair rose and you shivered in response. His hands roamed over you, chasing away the chill, replacing the sharpness with tenderness.

Even as you wrestled sleep from taking you, eyes fluttering close, you could feel his eyes on you. From day one, he made it his mission to study you; taking note of every sharp inhale, every squirm, every crease of the brow. He had been a quick and eager student. His hand gently encouraged your legs apart, his hand roving over your core, parting your very soul as he found his mark. Satisfied, his eyes closed, and his head rested against your chest as he let instinct take over.

Dancing on the edge of sleep yet pulled to the waking world by pleasure, your brain couldn’t comprehend thoughts. The worries of the day, the countless insecurities, the what-ifs, they all melted from your mind. The only thing you knew was touch. It was the only constant. The concept of time faded, and at some point unbeknownst to you, fingers had been replaced with lips.

Incoherent words praised his practiced tongue as thoughts attempted and failed to form meaning. Your hand wound through his hair, gripping to hold him in place as you rocked your hips forward. His arms hooked under your legs, lifting you higher, spreading you farther as he lost his need for air. His only purpose in consuming you.

“Jensen.” You mewled his name as a curse. “Please. God, please.”

Teeth scraped against soft flesh, sending you soaring off that endless cliff. You cried out, a slew of fractured speech. Jensen idly continued as you floated back down to reality. Only as breath returned, hungry for air, did he stop, attempting to catch some himself.

“Turn over,” He instructed through the shallow pants. “On your knees.”

You whined, rubbing your face with your palm. “You said I wouldn’t have to do anything.”

He nipped at your inner thigh. “Brat.”

You lazily smiled until he grabbed your sides and flipped you over himself. That woke you up, but only momentarily as he shuffled behind you, allowing you a minute to bury your head deeper into the pillow.

“Oh, I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

An arm snaked under your diaphragm, and you lost your breath as he pulled you up to a kneel, pinning you against his bare, hard flesh. His hands roamed your curves, already mapped in his mind, desperate to bring to fruition what he had imaged during the month apart. A hand came to your throat, gently squeezing, as he tilted it to the side.

“Color?” He cooed into your ear.

You only moaned, too tired for words, grinding your hips back into him, hoping it would prompt this process further along.

“Use your words.” He softly demanded.

“Green.” You placed a hand over his, encouraging him to squeeze harder. “So fucking green.”

He buried his mouth into the crook of your neck, claiming you, possessing you, undoing you. But two could play this game. With your free hand, you reached behind you, immediately claiming your prize. You stroked up and down his length, stopping at the apex and rolling your grasp.

“Fuck.” He indulged temporarily before taking your hand, guiding it to the top of the headboard.

Your other hand followed suit as he gripped your hips. You arched your back and swayed side to side, inviting him in or, at the very least, enticing him to hurry.

“Patience has never been your strong suit.” He playfully scolded.

As he knocked your knee with his own, spreading you apart further and lower, he bent down, planting long, deliberate kisses on the small of your back. Your eyes fluttered close yet again, your mind at war with your body, demanding sleep. He neared your entrance, testing at first, then surged forward, completely filling you. You cried out, sparks turning to flame as he flooded you. Over and over, he built pace, seeking his own high.

It was unlike anything you had ever known. Nothing existed outside of this claiming rhythm, outside of this mounting heat, outside of this ecstasy. Your mind was blank. Your mind was numb. He was the only thing you had ever known—the only thing you were created for.

His hand gripped your shoulder, arching you deeper, pulling you more flush against his hardness, hitting the deepest parts of you. Your curses and praise garbled together, moans became mute, and blinding pressure rose, threatening to break.

“Come on, Y/n,” Jensen said through ragged pants. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

“Jensen.” You cried, tears spilling over. “I can’t, I’m so tired.”

His grip left your shoulder and joined yours on the headboard, intertwining his fingers with yours as he drove into you over and over and over.

“Yes, you can.” He encouraged. “Tell me where.”

He adjusted, giving you time to assess the effectiveness.

And then, suddenly, “Ah, right there. Fuck, don’t fucking stop.” You squeezed your eyes shut.

He did as he was told, gritting his teeth together, fingers digging into your flesh as he held on. He waited and waited until he felt you close in around him, constricting, demanding he fall off that cliff with you into the deep pool of bright light. Your hands slid from the headboard as you collapsed back onto the mattress. Jensen fell with you, his weight trapping you.

It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. But eventually, you found your way to the surface again, taking a deep, shuttering breath. Jensen rolled off you onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling, breathing in and out, in and out. Sweat outlined his sculpted frame as he ran a hand through his tousled hair. When his heart finally settled, his eyes found yours, and he pulled you close.

You were no longer aware if you were sleeping or awake, but still, you said. “I think it is safe to say we can move ‘exhausted sex’ from the maybe category to any fucking time or day.”

He laughed and kissed your forehead. “Thank you.”

You groaned. “Oh please, let’s not start that again.”

“Fair.” He agreed and thought of something else to say. “You’ve ruined me.”

“I’ve ruined you?” You corrected. “Sir. You’ve gone and rendered the entirety of the male species inconsequential.”

“Okay,” He challenged, rubbing his eyes. “You can’t be that tired if you can spin that heap of bullcrap.”

You burrowed into the crook of his arm and closed your eyes before mumbling, “It's not bullcrap. You’ve ruined me too.”

His eyes darted back and forth in the darkness, contemplating everything you had said about love and god, even children. He looked back at you. Your breath had slowed and evened out. And he knew his epiphany remained true. His love for you was beyond his initial attraction, curiosity, or, frankly, his blue balls. He’d give it all up if you asked, find some office job, become a cat dad. And then it hit him why, and he chuckled, saving that thought for another day because now sleep was threatening him too, and he might not be thinking rationally.

He kissed your hair and whispered, testing it out loud. “I love you.” A cold, electric shiver ran throughout his being.

He froze as you stirred. “Hmm?”

He chuckled. “What would you think about going public?”

You shot up, fully conscious. Fully alert. Your brow furrowed, trying to comprehend.

“Aren’t we already public? You did ask me out at a convention?”

He also sat up, rubbing his hands through his hair to stir further energy.

“Well, kind of. People know I’m dating, but only a select few know who.” He explained trying to assess your emotions at the same time. “We’ve done a pretty good job keeping a wrap on your identity.”

“Probably ‘cause your ballcap and sunglasses are such a convincing disguise, Clark Kent.” You teased.

“Smartass,” he grumbled. “Probably more likely because I have a good manager and an even better team right now who locked down and scrubbed your social media.” He waited for you and added, “If you don’t want to…”

“No, that’s not it.” You stopped him. “I… Can I think it over?”

“Of course. Take all the time you need; there’s no rush.” He assured.

“I’ll have to talk to some people beforehand. Friends, coworkers, family.” You gritted your teeth. “My mom, she… Well, she might make things difficult.”

“Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up so late. We can sleep on it and talk to the team tomorrow. They’ll answer any questions you have and maybe provide some guidance on the hard things.” He bent down to look into your eyes. “Okay?”

You nodded in response.

“Let’s get some rest, yeah?” He encouraged again and pulled you down against him.

But how the fuck were you supposed to sleep now? Your whole world could change overnight. And you weren’t sure you were ready for it.

---

TAGS:

Everything Jackles: @akshi8278

GHTTC: @maggiegirl17 @foxyjwls007 @djs8891 @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @ghostofjoharvelle @ellen-reincarnated1967 @deansgirl79 @chriszgirl92

(Always feel free to ask to be added or removed (I won't be offended))

#supernatural #spn #spn fandom #spn fanfic #jensen ackles #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jensen x y/n

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joels-darlin · 1 year

Text

Bad Day

Pairings: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Warnings: hurt, angst, shouty Pedro (if that is even a thing), comfort, fluff, mentions of anxiety/panic attack, sad Pedro.

Summary: Pedro has a bad day and you bear the brunt of his frustrations.

Word count: 1.5k

Author Note: Appreciate that RPF isn't everyone's cup of tea so feel free to keep scrolling, I always make sure when writing for Pedro that I keep it to his true character and also respectful. Just a piece I've had in-progress for awhile and I've spent far too much time on it for it to go to waste. Enjoy and as always feedback is appreciated ♥ Special thanks to @ladybess-a03 for providing your beta reading services and wisdom, also for being a continued support ♥

AO3

It wasn’t hard to pinpoint where everything had gone astray. It was early, and he had woken up in a shocking mood; the bleak, grey, rainy weather outside and lack of sleep contributing to his miserable state.

It frustrated him to know that, of all days he had to leave the house, it was for something that could have been done over the phone. Next he couldn’t find any clean socks, and eventually had to forgo his mission to find some or else he’d be running late, and instead slipped on the worn pair from yesterday. Finally, upon entering the kitchen, he noticed they were out of coffee, so it looked like he was leaving even earlier than intended to stop at Starbucks for his fix.

So safe to say when you waltzed downstairs singing ‘Morning’ in a cheery tone it rubbed him the wrong way; irritated him, in fact. Pedro grunted in response, not in the mood for talking. Observing this straight away, you opted to retreating to the bedroom to change, giving him some space for five minutes.

┈

“Hey P, any idea where my laptop charger is?” you questioned as you reached the bottom step of the stairs. You were sure it was around here after working from home yesterday. Pedro was still in the kitchen, head down on his phone, thumbs stabbing away at the screen. No response.

“P? Do yo-”

“Oh my fucking god, WHATTT?…You know what, no wonder you can’t find it, this place is a fucking mess,” he said, lifting his arms to gesture to the various items haphazardly scattered across the room, his tone laced with frustration and anger.

“Have you even cleaned up in here this week? And, to answer your question, NO, I don’t know where the damn charger is,” he snapped back, continuing his tirade of anger. Bastard.

His venomous words hung in the air, coating the room with an awkward silence, and for the first time since you’d known him you were unsure what to say next. Yeah, okay, it had been a busy week for you both. Between your day job, Pedro between filming, costume fittings, and the constant interviews and photoshoots, trying to keep on top of the house in general was impossible. It wasn’t a huge mess by any means, just well-lived in. But every evening you found that you were both were too exhausted to even attempt chores.

You weren’t sure what audacity he had to assume the job of cleaning up was solely on you, to be honest. That wasn’t at all like the Pedro you knew.

“I’m going to work,” he grunted before grabbing his car keys, the door slamming behind him on the way out.

You stood frozen to the spot, partially in shock. Pedro had never raised his voice to you; he could be stern at times but never once had he acted like this. Glad it was a work from home day, you grabbed a glass of water before heading up to the home office.

┈

Today was one of the rare occasions where Pedro opted to sit in for his coffee, holed up in the dark corner of a Starbucks in the hopes that he wouldn’t get recognised. But in his haste to leave the house, he hadn’t bothered to check the time, and realised only once he’d started driving away from your home that he was at least two hours early for his first meeting of the day. Curling his hand around the now lukewarm cup of black coffee below him, sighing outwardly, his other hand came up to card through his already messy locks.

The events of the morning back at home were playing in his head on loop. Pedro didn’t mean to act the way he did, a complete and utter asshole. The feeling of regret pooled in his stomach as soon as the words left his mouth. Unfortunately he had woken up on the wrong side of the bed and taken it out on you which was completely unfair. In your case he knew how stressful work was at the moment spending your work from home days locked in the home office, constantly nattering away in meetings between trying to get your own tasks done to please managers.

What broke his heart the most was the look of sadness, and he supposed shock, that adorned your features when he spat those words out; eyes starting to well slightly with tears, your feet rooted to the ground almost in abhorrent horror at what he’d spat out. Only now, sat in this coffee shop, was he just beginning to realise the weight of his words and how they were directed towards only you. The onus of keeping things in check was on you both. Draining the last of his coffee he sighed again, leaving his seat and disposing of the cup on the way out. He had Hell a lot of grovelling to do.

┈

So far your day was not going smoothly after the events of this morning. Everything else then seemed to fall like fucking dominoes.

First your work laptop wouldn’t turn on, and only after two hours on the phone did IT decide it was broken and that you needed to come in for a replacement (brilliant, thanks for that. Real waste of time). Secondly, once getting a replacement, you had spilt once warm coffee all over the front seat in a rush to get home. The final nail in the coffin was on your commute back from the office. Focused on just getting home so you could attempt some work today, you nearly ended up in a crash.

Through no fault of your own (your head might have been all over the place on account of Pedro’s foul mood this morning, but you always paid attention on the roads), someone ran a red light. It just missed you, and nobody was hurt, but it was a close enough call that you needed to stop before heading the rest of the way home. Pulling over into the nearest petrol station for a breather, body shaking with fright, you had debated calling Pedro at this point. But knowing he was busy in meetings, and still being mad at him, you decided against it, eventually starving off the panic attack on your own. A massive sigh of relief left your lips upon parking the car on the drive. Knowing you were in for a long evening you hunkered down in the home office playing catch up with the pile of work that got pushed aside earlier in the day.

┈

All day you had played on his mind, especially during the fourth meeting of the day. Bored out of his skull, not really contributing and more listening and making script notes, this unexpected meeting was thrown into his schedule last minute which meant he was now home later than usual.

He’d missed you to the point where it made his chest ache, wanting nothing more than to rush inside and beg on his knees for forgiveness. Putting the car in park he sighed, glancing up at the window. The office light was still on which meant you were still working; he wasn’t surprised.

Locking the door behind him and placing the keys in the bowl by the entrance, he moved slowly in search of only you. His eyes doing a quick scan of the adjoining kitchen and front room. “Still upstairs” he thought, sighing loudly, hoping you would have heard his car pulling up. What he didn’t fail to miss - the place was now immaculate. That feeling of guilt again pooled in his stomach again like it did several hours ago. Pedro sat on the couch waiting; defeated and guilty, taking his phone out as a distraction. Eventually you made your presence known, coming downstairs. He stood to attention before your feet had the chance to touch the ground floor.

“Sweetheart…I-I-” he began.

“It’s okay, P don’t worry, I’m s-” you started, but couldn’t get anything out, his words interrupting yours.

“No, no! Querida, no, I’m the one who should be apologising, I was out of line. I snapped at you because I woke up a grump…it was uncalled for and I’m sorry…please come here” he said, begging in his tone, arms outstretched.

Padding along from the other side of the room you closed the gap, practically crushing against his warm chest. His arms came around your waist in a tight hug, placing a tender kiss atop your head. A few moments just to enjoy each other's embrace.

“I can’t apologise enough, mi amor” he said softly.

“Hmmm I might just forgive you…if I can get a kiss” Moving back from his chest so you could look at his face, Pedro leant down to meet you; foreheads now touching. His hand moved from your waist to cradle your head, thumb rubbing ever so gently over your cheek.

“Never have to ask sweetheart” he whispered softly.

Smiling down at you his hand moved down to your chin taking it in between his thumb and finger, gently guiding your lips together in a tender kiss.

There was one thing for certain the bad days were worth it if they all ended like this.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro x reader

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blacktofade · 1 month

Note

rpf etho gives gem a virtual house tour and ends up in his bedroom ;)

Here's another Gemtho fill! This one is saucy, so don't read at work (or do - I'm not your boss).

“I’m just curious if the rest of your house is as cursed as your office,” Gem says, feeling a little seasick from Etho’s camera work as it wobbles with every step he takes.

“Uh huh,” Etho replies from out of frame. “My office is fine.”

“Yeah, it’s just you that’s the problem, right?”

He grunts, moving steadily down the hallway, and she can tell he’s passing by doorways and not giving her a chance to see anything.

“Where are you going?” she asks. “This is meant to be a house tour.”

“Sure,” Etho agrees, and everything blurs for a moment as the camera flicks abruptly to the left.

There’s a doorway, through which Gem thinks she can see a fridge.

“Kitchen,” Etho says before the camera flicks to the right.

There’s another doorway and the corner of a dark gray couch.

“Living room,” Etho says and Gem’s laughing before the camera can even turn again, pointing this time into a room where she can see a sink.

“Downstairs bathroom.”

The next door he shows is closed.

“Garage.”

His footsteps are fast against the wooden floor and it’s clear he’s rushing.

“Stairs,” he says, and she gets a glimpse of his knees, his socked feet, a sweatshirt lying discarded on the landing.

He turns right and she hears the muted thud of him shouldering his way through a doorway before an overhead light flicks on.

“Bedroom,” he says, the footage grainy as he pans too quickly from one side to the other.

But she can see it's sparsely furnished, just enough to be functional. She can also see that the sheets on the bed are dark blue. Though she already knew that. She’s had more than her fair share of photos from Etho with those same sheets shoved down around his thighs.

She’s always liked the way they contrast against his pale skin.

“This wasn’t meant to be a speed-run,” she complains, even as Etho steps closer to the bed, throwing himself onto it without reservation.

“This isn’t what you were hoping for?” Etho asks, adjusting, and he must be leaning back against his pillows, because she can see him stretch his legs out. “I know you, Gem.”

He does. Maybe better than most.

“How am I meant to fantasize about you fucking me over your kitchen table if I’ve never even seen it?”

Etho makes a soft noise and she finds herself smiling, knowing she’s caught him already.

“Or the couch?” she asks, and she sees his hand smooth down his thigh, maybe in an attempt not to touch himself immediately. But that’s not what Gem wants. She actually likes when Etho gets impatient like this. As though he's spent all morning thinking about it and won't be able to concentrate again until he gets what he needs.

“Well,” she says gently, “if you’re not gonna give me that, then at least take your pants off.”

There's a rustle and then the screen goes black, like he's dropped his phone beside him. For just a moment, she thinks about how hot it would be to watch him struggle to get his pants open with one hand, but then his phone gets picked up again and there's a lot of skin on offer.

She loses her train of thought immediately.

“I can go back to the kitchen if you still want that,” he tells her and Gem exhales.

“Shut up, Etho,” she says and he does.

She's sprawled out on her couch in a pair of sweats, which makes it easy to slip one hand down the front, fingers easing into her underwear.

She can hear him breathing and she wants to feel every hot pant of it against her skin.

He's already getting hard and she wishes they were at a point where she could beg to let her visit in person, if only to get her mouth on him.

He gives himself a stroke with a loose grip and Gem grazes her clit with her index finger.

“What are you doing?” he asks and she grins, feeling powerful that he can only see her face.

“The same as you,” she tells him. “But wetter.”

He blows out a breath that crackles through her earbuds, and then the camera shifts.

He must be leaning over for lotion, because when the camera rights itself and he strokes himself again, it's smoother, easier, his skin shining just a little.

She wants to climb into his lap and take him as deep as she can. She wants to feel his shoulders under her palms and ride him until he's pleading to come.

“Are your fingers inside?” he asks, and she wonders what he's imagining in his mind.

“No, but they could be.”

He's quiet, like maybe he’s thinking about that too, his hand speeding up.

“You want that?” she asks, pushing, and he caves almost immediately.

“Yeah,” he grits out and Gem lets two fingers slip inside herself, a soft noise escaping as she does it.

He's fully hard now and he strokes himself like he has only one goal in mind.

She can’t tell what’s lotion and what’s his precome, but the tip of him is wet and she thinks it would be such a nice slide inside if he got to fuck her like this.

She can hear him too, the plap plap as he jerks himself and she knows she’s the only one that gets to hear that. He only does this for her.

She’s the only one who gets to see the inside of his house and she’s the only one who gets to watch him fall apart.

She angles her hand, fucking herself steadily, nudging at her clit with the meat of her palm.

“Wish it was your fingers inside me,” she pants and Etho groans like it pains him that he can’t physically shove her legs apart and give her what she wants.

“I need to hear you come,” he says, voice rough, and he sounds more desperate than he has in a while.

He’s been thinking about this longer than just today.

Gem imagines him waiting, forcing himself not to jerk off, wanting to do it with her instead. It sends a thrill through her and it doesn’t take much to get her the rest of the way there.

She swallows thickly, keening as she slips over the edge.

“Etho.”

She’s still falling when Etho comes across his own knuckles, a grunt punched out of him, and it’s so hot, she feels a little insane.

“Fuck,” she exhales, pulling her hand from her shorts, her whole body buzzing, and she listens to Etho catch his breath, sounding like he’s right there beside her.

She gives him a moment, enjoying the quiet aftermath, but eventually the camera shifts, like he’s reaching for a Kleenex.

He’s a better person than her, because she just wipes her fingers on the hem of her shirt.

“Y’know,” she says, pushing her bangs off her sweaty forehead, “now, I don’t feel so upset that you didn’t give me the full tour.”

He grunts softly and there’s a quiet sound like he’s flopped into his pillows.

For a second, the image on her phone hangs before shifting completely. He's apparently flipped the camera, because she suddenly gets a close up of his face.

She smiles automatically, loving any excuse to see him, the real him, and the corner of his mouth twitches tiredly.

“When you see my kitchen table, it should be in person,” he tells her and Gem’s stomach swoops, but she finds her smile widening.

“Yeah?” she agrees easily. “Deal.”

#gemtho fortnight #lovely anon #answer #fic #gemtho #hermitshipping #hermitshipping rpf

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delicate-moon-princess · 1 year

Note

that last ask has me thinking about soft daddy Henry who cares so much about your mental health. I have adhd (not bad but it’s there) and I really struggle with depression and anxiety in the wrong environment. I can just see daddy!Henry mode activated if you went to a party you didn’t know would be so loud and chaotic. He has you lean against a corner and breathe in sync with him, uses his charm to find a perfect excuse to leave. You’re all “I’ll be okay, we don’t have to go,” and he just gives you that daddy look like he can’t believe you would downplay your needs like that, and he low (high) key wants to spank you for it. And then he cuddles you all night long. But then if you get depressed (maybe you’re PMSing, maybe someone said something that triggered a bad thought cycle), he runs you a bubble bath and pours you a glass of wine and rubs your shoulders and snuggles you through your favorite Disney movie. And goodness help them, if someone did say something negative to you, but he would spend the night making you fall apart on his fingers and tongue until you forgot all about that silly person 🤭

(Henry is a big protective bear in this one, so a gif of Walter had to be used obviously.)

Overwhelmed

A party gets out of hand when some harsh words are thrown around. Henry is there to pick up the pieces, but it’s not always so easy healing your broken mind. (Based on this original ask)

Warning: 18+ smutty content, RPF, minor alcohol consumption, bullying, minor violence, bad thoughts and self image, mental health issues, panic attacks, comfort, daddy kink (not exactly dd/lg, but could have undertones), oral (f receiving), Henry being a gentleman and expecting nothing in return 🤭, multiple orgasms

5.1k words

Any typos are my own

******

This was supposed to be a small get together. That’s what you were told. A plan for a few friends to gather for a couple drinks at home. Maybe you would play some board games.

But a few people quickly turned into loads. And a couple drinks was soon an incessant river of alcohol. Now you found yourself stuck in the middle of a jumping house party.

At least thirty sweaty bodies were packed into the mediocre sized home. And new faces seemed to be showing up every minute. And the only person you knew in this place, Henry, had left to go get you some water when he saw you start to panic.

This definitely wasn’t your kind of crowd.

Miraculously, he had found a quiet corner for you to wait in. So that is where you waited for him, as patiently as you could. You did your best to remain calm as the loud music thudded in the other room. The vibrations rattled your throbbing head. You leaned against the wall in the empty hallway, sighing.

Why did social gatherings like this overwhelm you? It always seemed like a good idea in theory. A place to meet with people, an opportunity to make new friends. But your imbalanced brain had a way of ruining things. You could never enjoy yourself. And you were sure you weren’t a joy to be around when you got overstimulated like this.

Wait for Henry, you told yourself. Don’t get too worked up. He will be back soon.

You heard footsteps approaching, so you lifted your head with a weak smile. You were expecting him to return, and all would be well again. Only it wasn’t him. Instead it was the host of the party, the one who told you it was a small gathering.

Jake. A friend of Henry’s. One that always gave you bad vibes. You bit your tongue with your bad feelings about him. If your man liked him, so should you. You were being paranoid. As always.

“Hi, Jake.” You wiped the anxious sweat from your brow, offering him a polite smile. “Quite the party.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you left already.” His voice seemed to be laced with distaste, but you figured you were imagining it.

“I’m waiting for Henry. He left to get us some water.” You explained, wiping your damp palms on your thighs.

“Your little errand boy, right?”

“H-Huh?” You uttered in confusion. Errand boy?

“You’ve got him wrapped around your finger, don’t you? You say jump and he says how high.” He spat, crossing his arms

“Jake, I’m not-” Perhaps you were about to stick up for yourself, but he cut you off again so the words died in your throat.

“He can’t seem to go anywhere without you tagging along. Asking him for a guys night is like pulling teeth. Always spending time with the old ball and chain. You’re nagging him 24/7, aren’t you?” He scoffed.

“No, I…” You trailed off, thinking long and hard. Did you nag him?

Jake gave you hardly any time to think before spurting out more insults.

“Y’know I never could see what he saw in you. No one can. The man can get anyone. Everyone knows that. So why does he go and pick a ugly slag like you?” He jabbed, and you felt your eyes prick.

Your chest tightened. That was a question you asked yourself everyday. Everytime you woke up next to Henry. When he greeted you with a kiss and a smile. A beautiful way to start the day. But deep down it made you feel vulnerable.

What did you do to deserve him? Nothing. Nothing at all. You were nobody. A nobody with a broken mind.

“Why don’t you leave so the man can actually have some fun for once?” He was right.

You blinked and didn’t say anything. You took his advice though, wobbling away as your heart began to beat quicker. You had to get out of here. The front door never seemed so far away.

You could already feel yourself spiraling as you rounded the corner to the living room. It was packed and loud. More people shuffled into your sight range. With each new face, it felt harder to breathe. You were suffocated.

You inhaled shakily, stumbling a little. You collided with a hard body, and as you were about to whip around a pair of hands cupped your shoulders. You tried to turn and apologize, but the person spoke.

“Darling? Are you alright?” Henry. You looked at him, taking in his features. He was here to protect you. But why weren’t you able to calm down?

His lips were moving, though you couldn’t hear him. Everything was muffled. The people, the music, his voice. It all sounded far away. Like you were underwater.

Your breathing was labored, your brain dissociating when the panic almost overtook you. The only way you were going to survive this was by detaching your mind from your body.

You felt yourself being moved. His solid presence was behind you, holding you by your shoulders. Your attention was focused on the floor. Pairs of shuffling shoes invaded your vision as he guided you through the crowd.

The fresh air entered your lungs when he got you outside. Cool and refreshing, unlike the stuffy hot air inside the house. Your hands shook as you reached up to hold your face, hiccuping when you were forced back to reality.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe, I promise.” His hand gently laid on your back, not crowding you.

“Breathe, baby. Breathe in against my hand here.” He placed his other palm on your stomach, a gentle reminder to breathe in through your diaphragm.

You closed your eyes, inhaling as you concentrated on not panicking. Your breathing was shaky but it did wonders to calm you. His soft voice rang in your ears, praising you.

“There she is, good girl. I knew you could do it, I knew you could work yourself down.” He murmured.

He stroked your moist cheek, pushing your hair away from your sweaty forehead. You leaned into his touch, your rapid heart slowing.

“Darling, what happened in there?” His face showed his worry.

“I… I got a little overwhelmed. That’s all.” You murmured while glancing down at the ground. He didn’t need to know about your encounter with Jake.

He rubbed the base of your neck sympathetically. He could tell there was more. Something was bothering you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t realize it would be so crowded.” He kissed your temple as he apologized.

“It’s alright. Neither of us could have known Jake would invite everyone he knew.” You gave him a weak smile, shaking your head.

You thought you kept your tone even while speaking about that wretched man. Henry caught it. He didn’t let his surprise be known. He was confused by your sudden annoyance towards Jake, who you tolerated before.

“Let’s go home, princess. I think we’ve had enough fun for one night.” He took your hand, kissing your knuckles while giving you a dazzling smile.

You frowned, disappointed in yourself for not being able to handle a simple house party. He had seemed really excited about this get together. Even as more people showed up, he kept his smile and light heartedness. That was until your mood had dropped.

Jake was right. Henry couldn’t have fun with you around. You ruin everything. Quickly, you had to fix this.

“No, no- I’m okay. I-I only needed a breather.” You shook your head frantically, swallowing. You grimaced when you realized how dry your throat was.

His expression dropped slightly, resembling a scold. He held the water out to you after opening it, silently urging you to drink. You took the bottle sheepishly, sipping from it slowly.

“We’re not staying here anymore. We need to go home and decompress. Both of us.” He sighed when you pouted, softening his features as he rubbed your shoulders. He leaned in, kissing between your brows as you furrowed them.

“I really need to snuggle my favorite girl right now, okay? We can have a nice bubble bath. I’ll wash you up then maybe we can watch a movie after I get you into some warm pajamas.” He leveled with you, cupping your cheek.

“Okay...” You smiled weakly. Cuddling with him sounded better than anything.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” He started to turn towards the car.

“Hey, you two!” A voice called out from behind you, a familiar one that made you both freeze. For different reasons.

Henry spun around first, a grin on his face as he greeted his friend. They embraced in a hug as you turned slowly, trying to keep a polite smile. You hoped Jake would just let you two go without any snide comment.

The man in question spared you a glance as Henry patted his shoulder.

“Hey, man. This has been quite the party. Y/N and I had a great time.”

“Really? You’re leaving so soon.” Jake questioned, his brow raising in suspicion.

“Oh, I’ve got an early meeting in the morning. My manager contacted me with some stuff about emergency re-shoots. You know how it goes, man.” He quickly came up with a solid excuse, smooth as ever.

“Yeah, I know how it goes. It’s whatever the lady says right, pal?” Jake took a hearty swig of his beer, staring your man in the eye as his face dropped. You shifted on your feet, looking down in shame.

“Sorry?”

“Tell me, does she carry your balls around in her purse? Because you seem to have lost your pair.” He bit out viciously, the liquid courage burning in his chest.

“What did you just say?” Henry reared up, taking one long stride to get right in the other man’s face.

His brows were pinched angrily. Jake’s eyes widened in the slightest, but the alcohol in his system was making him braver. He didn’t back down.

“You heard me. Ever since she’s been tagging along, you’ve turned into an utter bore. Must be some good pussy, because it seems to have sucked the life out of you.” He spit.

The anger that flashed on your boyfriend’s face was bone-chilling. In the blink of an eye, he had the smaller man’s collar clenched in his fists. Yanking him upwards, Henry shook him while growling.

“Do you think the fact that you’re hammered is going to keep me from punching your teeth in? I’m going to make you regret disrespecting her.” He growled dangerously.

You finally came to your senses when you saw him pull his fist backwards. Jake flinched. Thankfully you were able to stop your boyfriend before his knuckles were to connect with the drunk’s jaw.

“Don’t.” You gasped softly, catching his gaze while holding his arm in both of your hands. His eye twitched as his fist clenched tighter. You felt the tendons in his forearm jerk. You squeezed reassuringly.

You shook your head silently, a wordless plea for him to not escalate this. Punching him would only make things worse. Jake wasn’t worth it.

The anger dissipated from his face as he gazed at you. He lowered his fist, while his other hand on Jake’s collar loosened. Henry was about to let him go completely, until Jake scoffed under his breath.

“Pfft. Pussy-whipped.”

The actor’s face twisted once more. You sighed, cursing the hammered bastard mentally. He wasn’t making this any easier. You could tell Henry was still itching to beat him mercilessly. Said man grunted, your hand falling from his arm as he gripped Jake’s collar once more.

The large man lifted the smaller one off the ground. At least three feet upwards before tossing him on the grass in the front yard. You grimaced as he fell on his back in a heavy heap. Luckily Henry chose to drop him in the grass, as opposed to the pavement.

You could see Jake’s ego wounded immediately, and you would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so serious. You crossed your arms, holding in a sigh as Henry bent down to talk to him.

“Don’t bother trying to apologize tomorrow when you sober up. Or else I’ll be forced to come back here and finish what I started.” He stood up, glaring at him for one last moment before he turned to you.

“Let’s go.” He whispered, walking behind you as he led you to the car. He kept you from even sparing at glance at Jake.

You were silent as he got you in the car, looking down at your lap as he got in the driver's seat. He looked at you, you could feel his stare burning into you. Shame kept you from looking at him.

“Darling… Did Jake say something to you earlier?” He finally broke the silence.

You opened your mouth, before closing it with a nod. Tears welled up as you recalled his hurtful words. From earlier in the night, and from now.

“What did he say to you?” He prodded.

You finally looked at him, and his jaw ticked when he saw your puffy eyes. Right then, he felt like going back and beating that idiot to a pulp for making his baby girl cry. Your sniffles broke his heart.

“I-I don’t… I don’t want to talk about it.” You hiccuped, shaking your head.

“Is that what got you so upset?” His voice was soft, almost broken with guilt. He should have never left you alone.

You shrugged, Jake’s badgering surely didn’t help your already overstimulated mind. Henry bit his lip as he was forced to push away his anger to comfort you. He stroked your hair, rubbing your shoulder.

“Baby..” He trailed off, being interrupted by you.

“I just want to go home. And take that bubble bath you promised.” You begged, causing him to sigh and let it go for now. He gave you a smile.

“Of course, sweetheart. Let's go home.” He kissed your cheek before pulling away, turning the car on and driving.

Your eyelids were heavy, your head resting on your hand. You let them close for the rest of the car ride home. Your silence was making him want to squirm, but he did his best to not show his displeasure. It killed him to see you so upset.

When he parked he was sure you had fallen asleep, but you surprised him by lifting your head. He turned the car off, reaching to cup your cheek.

“Are you okay, my baby girl?” He searched your face for any more signs of tears. He saw only the dried streaks from earlier.

You gave him a weak smile, and it did little to mend his broken heart. He matched your smile though, stroking your hair away from your face as you leaned into his hand.

“I’m okay. I promise.” Your voice was softer, smaller.

He leaned forward to kiss you, and you kissed back half heartedly. Henry pulled away, knowing you were still trying to put on a brave face for him.

His brave girl. You didn’t always have to be strong. That’s what he was here for. He wasn’t going to push you. You would talk to him eventually. You always did.

“Let’s get inside, pumpkin.” He kissed your knuckles before getting out of the car. Of course he opened your door and helped you out.

You held his hand as he led you inside. He knelt in front of you once he closed the door, working on taking your heels off for you.

“You look so beautiful tonight… I still can’t believe you gave a man like me even a chance.” He murmured the last part to himself, rubbing your ankles when your shoes were gone.

You couldn’t quell the quiver of your lip. You’re the one who didn’t deserve him. Not in the slightest. Jake was right. What does a man like him see in a woman like you?

You masked with a smile, stroking his hair as he kissed your clothed hips. He watched you carefully, still on his knees in front of you.

“What do I have to do for you to see how perfect you are?” He whispered as he nuzzled your stomach, squeezing you close.

You hiccuped quietly. Your fingers weaved into his hair, feeling his silky curls between your digits. The sensation calmed you a little.

Soon, his warmth pulled away and when you opened your eyes again, he was standing. He cupped your cheek, his thumb rubbing your flesh.

“I promised you a bubble bath. Come on, sweetheart.” He bent down to kiss your nose. You smiled lightly.

You both went into the master bathroom, where you sat on the closed toilet lid. He turned to mess with the knobs on the large tub. The water filled the basin, then he added bubbles.

You took a deep breath, the soft smell of vanilla and brown sugar filled your nostrils. The scent caused you to relax, the sound of the water lulling you into a calm state.

Henry stood up, helping you stand and start to undress. His fingers unzipped your dress, letting it fall off your body and pool at your feet on the tile floor. You shivered when his digits trailed over your form. They hooked on your panties and pulled them down your legs.

He helped you into the tub, and you let out a sigh as you sunk into the warm, scented water. The bubbles covered your chest, and you let yourself rest for a second. He stroked your hair, an added comfort to the warm bath.

“How does that feel, darling?” He spoke softly, his hands disappearing. You heard liquid being poured into a glass.

The sneaky devil had snagged a bottle of your favorite wine before coming up here. He was pouring it into the stemmed glass. Somehow you hadn’t noticed he grabbed it. He glanced back at you with a smirk. How did he know exactly what you needed?

“It feels perfect.” You whispered, in awe of this man. He handed you the wine, and you took a smooth sip. You hummed.

Well, it was almost perfect. There was one thing missing.

“Come in with me?” You blinked up at him, your hand wrapped around his wrist when he went to sit beside the tub.

He melted, nodding his head instantly. Anything you wanted, he would not hesitate to give to you. And anything he couldn’t do, it killed him that he wasn’t able to fulfill your every need. Thankfully, this was a simple request. He began to undress as you set the glass aside.

You watched him unashamed. This beautiful man was yours. All yours. You felt your heart begin to swell. As it always did when you thought about the fact that you were his and he was yours.

How did something like that happen to someone like you? It was unbelievable.

You scooted forward as he lowered himself in. He dragged you back into his chest after he was seated, making you relax in his embrace. He began to wash you, his breath ghosting over your shoulder as he kissed it.

“It kills me seeing you so upset.” Henry finally spoke after a lull of comfortable silence.

You pouted, feeling guilty about worrying him. Before you could open your mouth to apologize, he cut you off.

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.” He turned your head, looking at you seriously. “None of this is your fault.”

You closed your mouth, swallowing your apology as he stroked your cheek. He sighed to himself as he traced your lower lip with his thumb.

“It took every ounce of my self control not to beat him to a bloody pulp for disrespecting you.” His voice was flat.

The protective tone he held made your heart skip a beat, and a tingle to grow between your legs. A smile ghosted your lips, your hand coming up to cup his face.

“I know. I’m starting to think I should have let you.” You cracked a smile. A real one.

“I would have. All you have to do is ask.” He turned to kiss your palm. You laid your head on his shoulder, his arms around you making you feel safe.

“I know you would.”

Your words had the whisper of sadness. He was perfect. Too perfect for you. There must be a catch. Henry kissed the top of your head, squeezing you gently.

“Do you want to talk about what he said to you?” He murmured, dragging the washcloth down your arms.

You sighed, his touch easing you enough to talk about it. You tell him your encounter with Jake, from the very beginning. Tears burned in your eyes as you retold the story, but they didn’t fall as you repeated his hateful words.

“He said you were too good for me. And no one understands what you see in me.” You looked at him, blinking away your tears. You don’t tell him the harsher words Jake uttered to you. No reason for him to get angry again.

“And you believed him.” It wasn’t a question. He could tell by your expression that the drunk’s words resonated deep within you.

You shrugged. He kissed the back of your neck, breathing in your scent. He sighed, his nose pressed against your skin.

“I wish I had the words to change your mind, my love. I don’t like the way you view yourself. While you think I’m too good for you, I believe in the opposite. It is you who is too good for me.

Every morning when I wake up next to you, I always ask myself one thing. ‘What did a fool like me do to deserve such an amazing, beautiful woman?’. I still don’t have an answer.”

He kissed the side of your face, his lips next to your ear. You shivered, hanging onto every word as his hands rubbed your sides.

“But I try not to dwell on it. Because every moment I spend with you is a gift. And I much rather enjoy it and then spend our time together stressing.”

You nuzzled him as he squeezed you. You sniffled, his words calming your woeful heart. You pressed your lips to his cheek, whispering against his skin.

“Thank you, Henry. You always know how to fix things.”

“Anything for my precious girl. Anymore wine, sweetheart?” He offered you the almost empty glass. You shook your head, gesturing for him to finish it.

He winked at you and tossed it back. You watched as his tongue came out to lick the rest off his lips. Your mouth watered. His taste was intoxicating by itself, mixed with the sweet wine it had to be heavenly.

You decided not to wonder any longer, pressing your lips to his. He hummed, deepening the kiss as he stroked your tongue with his. You gasped into his mouth when you felt his half hard cock twitch against your spine.

He grunted, smirking as he nipped at your lower lip. He squeezed your hips, pulling away. His nose brushed against yours.

“Let’s get out and dry off, shall we? Get into some warm pajamas and then you can pick a movie to watch.”

You grinned as you started to brainstorm about which movie you were going to pick. You were off in your own world as he helped you out of the tub. He quickly dried himself. Then gently patted your body dry with a fresh towel.

You hummed a soft tune, a sign to Henry that you were starting to feel like yourself again. The material of the soft towel was making you relax. Your skin still smelled of vanilla, as did his.

He kissed the top of your head after he was done, both of you still nude until he wrapped the towel around you. You kept stealing glances at his naked form. He smirked to himself.

“Go wait for me on the bed. I’ll pick out something comfortable for you to wear.” He pecked your lips, patting your side to urge you towards the bedroom.

You bit your lip and nodded, leaving him in the bathroom. You made sure you weren’t dripping any water before sitting on the edge of the bed. You grabbed the remote, browsing for something to watch.

Henry entered, fully clothed now as he held a pair of clothes for you in one hand. In the other, a bottle of lotion.

“I’ll get you dressed, but first-lotion.” He knew your routine.

You smiled at him, watching him massage the lotion into your shoulders and arms. He lowered the towel to get your back as he sat behind you. Your eyes were closed, listening to his breathing as he lathered you up.

His large hands spread over your chest. He weighed your breasts in his palms as his thumbs lightly grazed your nipples. You moaned softly, leaning into him. His lips touched your ear, kissing his way down your neck and shoulder.

“Lay back sweet girl.”

You did so, gazing up at him as he stood at the end of the bed. He gathered some more lotion, rubbing into your feet. You groaned in delight when he massaged your aching soles. The sensation made you melt.

You felt his lips on the sensitive skin on your foot, gently kissing your heel, and each of your toes. He gave the other foot the same attention. His fingers creeped up your legs till he was squeezing your thighs.

Your legs spread instinctively, presenting your core to him. His eyes became half lidded as a pleased growl tumbled from his lips.

“So beautiful. Every inch of you, darling. There’s not a part of you I don’t love.” He tugged you up on the bed, lowering himself down on his stomach between your legs.

Your breath shook when you felt his mouth against the inside of your thighs. He peppered kisses along your skin as he lifted his hands. You gasped as his fingers bumped your clit.

“Please, Daddy.” You needed more, squirming in front of him as he teased you.

“Shh, baby girl. Daddys got you. You don’t have to beg. I’m gonna taste this perfect cunt either way.” His breath hit your center as he leaned closer, covering your slit with his mouth as soon as he ended his sentence.

His tongue was hot as it weaved between your lips, seeking out the bundle of nerves hiding. His wet appendage swirled the bead once, twice, before he puckered his lips around it. Henry suckled gently, his large hands holding your thighs apart.

You arched your back and moaned, the stimulation making your gut tighten. You reached down to hold onto his hair, tugging lightly when he gave your clit another suck. You couldn’t help it

He didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, moaning against your flower as you held onto his curls. He gazed up at you, admiring the look of pleasure on your face. His tongue explored further down, dipping into your leaking hole

You bucked against his mouth, panting as your heart started to thud quickly. Incoherent groans left your mouth as you wiggled on the bed. He held you in place, snarling as he increased the pace of his tongue and lips. You tensed.

He pulled the orgasm from you with skill, your body rolling. Moans of wanton pleasure escaped you, falling apart from his lips. Your skin didn’t stop tingling until he finally pulled away.

You panted and opened your eyes when his mouth disappeared. His lips and chin were shiny, his smirk large as you got bashful at the sight of him.

“Mmm, you taste delicious. As always. Wish I could eat you all day.” He growled, one of his hands going back to your pussy. Your jaw dropped open as he traced your puffy slit.

You inhaled as he sunk a finger into you, your hole closed around it eagerly as you clenched down. He moaned under his breath, his gaze attached to the way your body swallowed his digit inside.

“So tight, baby girl. It feels so nice to just relax and let Daddy make you feel good, doesn’t it? I love seeing you squirm. I want you to cum again. Can you do that for Daddy, beautiful?”

You nodded quickly. He added a second finger, almost like he knew you needed it. You concentrated on the feeling of his fingertips rubbing against your convulsing walls. He found your special spot with no problem, growling when you let out a cry.

“There you go, good girl.” He grunted, shaking his fingers inside you. You squealed, and Henry moaned at the sound. “Cum for me, princess. Cum for daddy.”

He toyed with your g-spot, his lips finding your nub again. The sensations all blended together, and soon you lost yourself in another orgasm. You sobbed, gripping his head between your thighs and you arched off the bed.

He gulped down all that you gave, rutting his fingers into you to pull you through the tendrils of euphoria. Your body relaxed as your orgasm subsided. He finally pulled away with one last lingering lick of your cunt.

“Are you still with me, gorgeous?” He chuckled when you hummed and nodded lazily. “Did you decide on a movie to watch?”

You pouted silently as you glanced down at his groin. He was obviously aroused, yet wasn’t expecting you to return the favor. You wanted to take care of him. Your hand rested on his thigh. He chuckled, lifting your hand to kiss it.

“That’s nothing for you to worry about right now, darling. You need to rest. Now, have you decided on a movie?” He questioned you again.

“Lilo and Stitch.” You murmured as he stood up, your gaze following him.

“Lilo and Stitch it is then.” He grinned leaning over you to peck your lips. You could taste a hint of your own essence on his tongue.

Henry dressed you in the warm pajamas he picked out of you beforehand. You sighed in content, smiling up at him as he switched on the movie. He smiled back at you, scooting onto the bed and pulling you close. You snuggled him, your face in his chest.

“I love you, Darling. Don’t ever forget that. No matter how bad your thoughts might get, I want you to remember how much I love you. You mean everything to me.” His voice vibrated in his chest, and you lifted your head to fixate on him.

“I love you, Henry. You’re my everything. I don’t think I could live without you.” You whispered, your eyes locked.

“Good thing you won’t have to. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.” He smiled, kissing you with a pleasant hum. You giggled.

“Now let’s watch ‘Lilo and Stitch’. Who’s the little blue guy again?”

******

A/N: Slowly chipping away at my inbox. Thank you for your patience as I slowly complete your requests. I apologize to anyone who has been waiting for months. Some things in my personal life have affected my mental health negatively, and I haven't been writing as much. Recently I've been easing my way back into writing, and I want to start being more active on here. I love you all, I feel like I don't tell you that enough. I’m sorry when I go MIA 😭❤️

Taglist: @sunshine-with-daisy @leigh70 @islacharlotte @lysarria @kebabgirl67 @pandaxnienke @identity2212 @rach2602

#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #RPF #henry cavill fandom #anon request #masterlist #overwhelmed

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gingerjolover · 11 months

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Dirty Shirlies - Julien Baker x fem!Reader

Sypnosis: Julien doesn't like when randos talk to her girl (possessive!julien in the house)

G's notes: this is a combination of like four requests, i am down to do a part 2 if y'all want it😏also unedited

WC: somewhere around 875 words (short king!)

Warnings: RPF, greta van fleet x boygenius crossover, alcohol, smutty language, no fundamental physical descriptors?

The bar was loud, people talking over the already deafening music, the lights hot and bright. It was almost comical, watching your friends and their partners attempt to dance on the small dingy floor. You're actually still shocked that your girlfriend wanted to come tonight, the idea of spending a night off in a bar in downtown Nashville, a bar full of straight dudes no less, made you giggle. You've lost sight of Julien, who left to go get you drinks only a minute and a half ago.

“I don’t see your pipsqueak,” Jake snorts, getting on his tip toes to look over the large group of people.

“Don’t let Jules hear you say that,” Josh chides his brother, looking at you, eyes shining and wide in jest.

“What is she gonna do? Hit me?” Jake says, laughing loudly.

“You don’t know my girl, she can get scrappy,” you tease, also looking over the sea of people trying to locate your girlfriend. “She’ll be fine…right?” you ask nervously, biting your bottom lip.

“I’ll go get her,” Jake says, downing the rest of his beer, patting you and Josh on the back, going to search for his tattooed doppleganger.

“Josh!” Phoebe calls, your friends pointing to the ceiling as his favorite song plays. Josh looks over at you, biting his lip, eyes moving into puppy dog territory quickly. “Just go,” you laugh, watching him down the rest of his salty dog before shouting, “Move over Luce,” and making his way to the dance floor.

As quick as he left, his spot at the bar is taken. Your back towards the new occupant, eyes searching for any sign of Julien. “What’re you drinking?” a deep voice asks. You turn around, slightly startled, and see a tall man. His smile is kind, greenish eyes sparkling as they look around your face.

“Oh um, a dirty shirley,” you respond smiling. “Tequila or vodka?” he asks.

“Tequila…vodka is not my friend,” you joke.

He lets out a belly laugh, shaking his head lightly before sticking out his hand. “I’m Ben, and I’m the exact opposite.”

You laugh softly, “Really? How funny! I’m–”

“Here you go baby,” Julien says, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, putting a new drink on the bar in front of you, kissing your jaw softly.

Jake appears to Julien’s left, smirking at the tightness in her voice, patting her back.

“Who’s this?” Julien asks, taking a swig of her beer.

“Oh this is Ben, he’s anti-tequila,” you joke, watching your girlfriend’s jealous eyes. Your hand rubs her back up and down, feeling her tense up makes you frown.

“I’m Julien, her girlfriend,” Julien says, sticking one heavily tattooed arm out, hand ready to shake Ben’s.

Ben gulps, despite being at least a foot taller than your girlfriend, Julien’s glare runs through him, her eyes narrowing as she gives him a firm handshake.

“This is Jake,” Julien says, dropping his hand.

“Hey man,” Jake greets, lifting his hand up in a subtle wave.

“Well it was nice to meet you all,” Ben says, collecting his beer and walking away. He turns back to look at you, as you give an apologetic smile.

“Well…” Jake says awkwardly, lifting onto his tip toes.

“Don’t even,” you start, not wanting Jake and Julien to get into it right now, the teasing smile on Jake’s face tells you everything you need to know.

“Yeah yeah, sure, I’ll go find the girls and Josh… you’re definitely not jealous Jules,” Jake says as he walks away.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Julien mutters, moving to stand in front of you, standing in between your legs at your spot on the barstool.

“Oh stop… wait were you actually jealous? Babe!” you exclaim, laughing.

“Shut up,” Julien murmurs, shoving her face in your neck and kissing it softly.

“Baby,” you chuckle, pushing her hair out of her face, kissing her lips and cheeks, your hand squeezing her cheeks softly. “He said like… 5 words to me,” you reassure her.

“Yeah, 5 words too many,” she murmurs sassily.

“Julien!”

“What? I can’t even leave you at the bar for 5 minutes by yourself without some guy trying to take my girl,” Julien exclaims.

You giggle, “he wasnt trying to take me!”

“You don’t know how pretty you are, baby,” Julien breathes out, her hands sliding up your thighs, settling on your hips, her lips sucking softly at your neck.

A soft moan escapes you before you can stop it, you can feel Julien smiling on your skin. “You only moan for me, right, pretty girl? You’re all mine,” she murmurs, her teeth nipping at you gently.

“I–” you breathe out, hand in Julien’s hair.

“Answer me,” Julien interrupts, sucking a hickey in between your neck and shoulder.

“M’all yours Jay,” you whimper softly, eyes closing.

“Good girl, now finish your drink,” Julien smirks, pulling away.

You grab the drink, confused, sipping through the tiny straw. “Why?”

“Because as soon as you’re done, we’re going to say bye to our friends and then we’re going home and I’m going to fuck the living daylights out of you,” she says in an even tone, kissing your nose innocently.

Your jaw drops softly, moving to chug the drink, Julien laughing at your eagerness. “That’s my girl.”

#julien baker x reader #julien baker x fem!reader #julien baker #boygenius #boygenius mini fic #we are slowly moving into smut territory y'all

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shellbilee · 7 months

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Hey There Darlin' - Chapter 4

A Glen Powell RPF Series

Comment if you'd like to be tagged! x

Glen feels like he's buzzing.

Like the kind of buzzing you feel when you've had one too many cups of coffee, or a hit of pre workout just before a big gym session.

Except this time, he knows it has nothing to do with caffeine.

It's Billie.

He’s known her for less than twenty-four hours, but already he feels like he can’t get enough of her. Of her voice, her eyes, her lips, of her smile. Her fucking gorgeous smile.

Glen looks over when he sees a black Ford pick up pulling up a few spaces away, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees Billie step out of the car. He sucks in a breath as he looks her over, feeling his muscles clench as his eyes run over her body. Her thick legs, her round ass, her toned abdomen peeking out from beneath the cropped shirt she’s wearing. It’s enough to send him spinning.

Fuck.

He looks back at his reflection in his rearview mirror, running his fingers through his hair and putting his cap back on. He bares his teeth, checking for any missed pieces of food, before letting out a heavy breath and getting out of his car.

“Billie!”

Glen sees her look up at his call, a happy smile parting her lips when she sees him. He jogs the short distance over to her, watching as she puts her phone away and reaches up to shield her face from the afternoon sun.

“Nice wheels” he says, gesturing to her pick up behind her, Billie’s smile widening.

“Thanks. I like yours too”.

Glen grins, glancing back over at his own Chevy Silverado, his big silver truck standing out like a shining beacon in the Ikea parking lot.

“Can I ask you a question?” Billie asks as they start walking towards the entrance, Glen watching the way her long ponytail bobs as she walks.

The colour reminds him of roasted espresso beans, with ribbons of warm chocolate rippling through.

“Shoot”.

“It must be really hard for you to just, go out shopping? I mean everywhere you go, you kind of risk being stampeded by fans” Billie says, looking at the building entrance and back at Glen, “It didn’t even occur to me what this might be like for you, and now I feel a bit stupid that I asked you to come along. To Ikea of all places”.

Glen laughs and shakes his head. “Billie, I’d have said yes to anything you said if it meant that I got to spend more time with you”.

Glen loves the way her smile grows then, the soft blush that creeps into her golden skin from his words.

She has no idea how fucking gorgeous she is.

“But to answer your question, yes, it can be hard. It’s not something I really thought about though, at least until Top Gun. That kind of changed everything”.

Billie laughs, and Glen immediately decides that her laugh is one of his new favourite sounds.

“I mean, not to go all fan girl on you, but I can see why that happened. You were pretty memorable in that movie” Billie says, offering a soft, sheepish smile and pulling her ponytail forward so that it tumbles down her shoulder.

“Yeah, as the asshole character” Glen replies, teasing another chuckle from Billie that makes his stomach flip.

“Well you did sort of save the day at the end, so perhaps that’s more the reason?” Billie reasons, her shoulders lifting in an adorable shrug, “Or you know, there’s the whole beach scene too, you were kind of gorg---, I mean, hard to forget in that”.

Glen turns to Billie with a raised eyebrow, willing her to continue talking. Instead he sees her mash her lips together, her eyes squeezing shut and her brow furrowing for a moment. She looks up at Glen a second later, her eyes big and beautiful, flashing with what Glen can only describe as embarrassment.

“I’m going to shut up now, because I’ve said too much and I’m making an idiot of myself”.

Glen drops his head back and laughs, clapping his hands together.

“You know, I’d be quite happy to recreate that scene for you if you really wanted to see it again. Private screening, just for you”

Billie laughs and shoves him playfully.

“You’re trouble, you know that?”

Glen doesn’t answer, instead flashing Billie his most charming grin.

“Alright so tell me, what kind of couch are we looking for?” Glen asks when they reach the entrance, cold, air-conditioned air blasting them as they walk through, “How many seats? Fold out? Material? Where is it going in your house?”

Billie bites her bottom lip again, and Glen has to put his hands on his hips to stop himself from grabbing her face and kissing her.

“I can’t answer any of those questions except that it’s going in my living room” Billie says, lifting her hands up in an I-don't-know-gesture’, the two walking through to the first of the showrooms.

“Okay so do you have any ideas of what you’re after then?” he asks, pausing when Billie leans over to run her hand over a navy throw blanket.

“A colour that Nugget’s fur won’t be so noticeable on. That’s about it so far”.

Glen laughs.

“Okay so no dark colours then” he says as they browse the concept bedroom, the theme an earthy mix of whites, browns and deep greens.

They move onto the next room - another bedroom, this one decorated in an urban, industrial theme. It’s all exposed brick walls and black fixtures, the bed linen a tangle of moody greys and dark navy. It reminds Glen of his own style at home, making him think of the dark charcoal sheets that are currently on his bed.

Sheets, he thinks, that would look great under Billie’s naked body.

Fuck.

His mind wanders for the tenth time since he’s been here, looking over to find Billie bending over to pick up and inspect a large terracotta coloured cushion. All of a sudden, his eyes are glued to her ass, her round, peachy ass in her bright blue, skin tight shorts.

He imagines it in just a pair of panties and nothing else, a deep wine colour, a tiny, lace and silk number that covers next to nothing. He imagines her bent over in front of him, a cheek in each of his hands, her skin soft and buttery smooth as he kneads her supple flesh.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Glen exhales deeply, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing himself to get his thoughts in check. He looks up a moment later to see Billie taking a photo of the tag on the cushion she's holding, before dropping it back onto the bed and making her way into the next room.

“Maybe suede?” Billie asks, running her hand over the back of a grey suede loveseat she's just stopped in front of, Glen following close behind.

“Probably not the best for fur though” Glen counters, Billie nodding in agreement and leaning her hip against the couch as she looks around the new room.

Glen hears laughter up ahead and he turns to see a group of girls walking towards the room they're in. There's four of them, all eighteen or so, laughing and chatting away at each other as they walk.

He exhales heavily through his nose. Young girls were always tough to deal with when he was out - they made the most noise. They also posted everything on social media.

The last thing he wants is fan attention when he's out with Billie, or worse, paparazzi following him in Ikea of all places. He knows from past experience it’s one of the quickest ways to freak out a girl he likes, particularly one that isn’t in the spotlight like Billie.

He has a split second to make a decision.

And so, he does.

“I think I like grey or ta--”

Billie’s words are abruptly cut short when Glen grabs her hand, pulling her into a nearby alcove behind the bedroom's wardrobe.

“Are we hiding?” Billie whispers after a moment, confusion evident on her face as she looks up at Glen in front of her.

He nods.

For a second he can’t think of anything except Billie, about how fucking gorgeous she is, about how right at this current moment she’s pressed up against him against a wardrobe, her fingers still wrapped in his.

Billie frowns, an amused, but confused expression on her face, Glen watching as she leans back to poke her head out of the alcove.

Glen sees her face transform with understanding when she sees what Glen is hiding from, the sound of the girls laughing and talking now evident inside the room. She leans back in towards Glen, a soft smile on her face, and it takes everything Glen has not to lean in and kiss her right there and then.

They both still when they hear the voices come closer, Glen's grip on Billie's hand tightening. He feels a momentary sting of alarm, all manner of potential scenarios now playing out in his head.

His chest tightens as he sucks in a deep breath, panic suddenly taking over his brain.

Fuck. Here we go.

He hears footsteps walk into the alcove and Glen isn't sure what to do, his thoughts immediately silenced when Billie reaches for his jaw and pulls his mouth to hers.

Oh, Billie.

In an instant every part of him relaxes, concerns from just a moment ago seemingly forgotten. Her lips are soft against his, moving against his in a tender kiss, her free hand cupping his jaw and holding his face to hers. He releases her other hand and searches for her waist, his fingers finding the bare skin beneath her short shirt and gripping at her warm flesh.

She's everywhere, all at once, the sweet taste of her mouth, the softness of her lips, the intoxicating scent of her skin, every single one of his senses suddenly drowning in her. Glen's heart races in his chest, his brain unable to think of anything else except Billie.

He hears the awkward stammering of the intruding girl, but it's barely audible above his heart beat in his ears. Just when Glen thinks he could die right here and now, Billie breaks away and turns her head, her hand still holding his face to her neck. He realises she’s shielding him, hiding his face from the unknown girl, his chest all but heaving as his mouth hangs less than an inch from her neck.

“Oh um, sorry” Billie says with a mischievous exaggerated giggle, the other girl muttering her own apology.

Glen barely listens as the girl backs away out of the alcove, unable to concentrate on anything except Billie's neck. He breathes in her scent, delicious and warm, forcing himself to stay still. It takes everything he has not to close that one inch gap and press his lips to Billie’s throat, every single fibre in his body screaming at him to drag his tongue along her skin.

Some part of him hears the girl return to her friends, the group giggling and quickly scurrying out of the showroom moments later. Reluctantly he pulls away when Billie releases his face, a heavy breath leaving his mouth as he does. Billie looks back at him with bright, wide eyes, Glen hyper aware that her chest is still pressed to his and his fingers are still gripping the warm skin of her waist. His thoughts are all but blank, except for how much he wants to do that all over again.

He's buzzing again, stronger now, the feel of Billie's lips against his seemingly burnt into his brain. He drops his head back against the wall behind him and looks down at her with an incredulous smile, words struggling to form in his mind.

“Th---that was---”.

“Some quick thinking?” Billie interrupts, finishing his sentence for him and flashing a gentle grin.

He opens his mouth to speak but no words come out, Billie laughing and grabbing his hand from her waist. He says nothing as she wraps her fingers in his and steps away from him, pulling on his hand so that his body peels away from the wall and follows her back out into the bedroom.

“C'mon you, we've gotta find me a couch”.

---

Billie

“Are you sure you’re okay with those? I can carry one if you need”.

Glen looks down at her and shakes his head, two furniture flat packs nestled firmly under each of his arms. Billie forces herself to keep her eyes trained on his face, fighting the urge to stare at his thick biceps.

“No need darlin’, I got this”.

Billie exhales silently.

How is his voice so damn attractive?

How does he make that ONE WORD sound so damn attractive?

How is ALL of him so damn attractive?

She swallows thickly.

She still can’t believe how bold she’d been earlier, still not quite believing that she’d kissed Glen. It was a split second idea that needed a split second decision. And she’d done it without a second thought.

She’d kissed Glen Powell.

The look on his face when she’d pulled away had made it all worth it though, and it had taken everything she had not to lean back in and kiss him up against the wall of the Ikea wardrobe.

God.

To say she was attracted to him was an understatement, now even more so if that was even possible. To his gorgeous green eyes, his devastatingly sexy smile, his broad, muscled chest. If she were a cartoon, she was pretty certain she’d be drawn with permanent heart shaped eyes every time she looked at him.

Billie pulls out her keys when they reach her car, unlocking the tailgate and stepping back to allow Glen to unload the flat packs into her tray.

After much searching she’d ended up finding a couch she liked - an ‘L’ shaped three seater with a chaise extension, in a rich caramel coloured leather. There hadn’t been any left in stock though, so she’d instead ordered it, with delivery expected early next week.

She’d also found a new wooden end table and a small oak bookshelf that she loved, both of which Glen was currently hauling into her car.

Billie opens the front door of her pick up and throws the bag of assorted cream and grey cushions she'd also bought onto the passenger seat, closing the door and turning around in time to see Glen shutting her tailgate. He reaches up to readjust his hat, his sandy blonde hair peaking out from beneath it, an effortlessly handsome smile on his chiselled face.

Billie wonders idly if he has any idea of the effect he has on her. Or on women in general for that matter.

“So I know we’ve spent the better part of the afternoon together, and at the risk of sounding needy, can I ask what you’re doing for dinner?”.

Billie can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips then, her face falling a second later when she remembers she actually does have plans.

“I've actually got a dinner to go to, a house-warming barbecue up in the hills”.

She feels her heart fall when his face drops, and in an instant she wishes she hadn't RSVP'd to her Saturday night plans.

“My boss just bought a new place” Billie explains looking down at her hands and then back up at Glen again, “but---, I’m free all day tomorrow?”.

His face instantly lights up at her words and suddenly her heart is soaring again, his gorgeous grin returning.

“It’s a date”.

Billie laughs and tilts her head, raising an eyebrow. “Does that mean today counts as our first date then?”.

Glen shrugs adorably. “That depends”.

“On?”

“Whether or not you liked it. If you didn’t, then no, it doesn’t count and tomorrow can be our real first date”.

Billie laughs out loud, shaking her head so that her ponytail swishes along her shoulder.

“I like unconventional dates” she says lifting up her hands in a shrug, “There isn’t so much pressure”.

Glen nods in agreement.

“Unconventional” he says repeating her word as if he’s thinking of ideas, his grin suddenly growing even wider.

Billie laughs again, but she can't help the frown that suddenly bends her brow.

“All of a sudden I’m scared to ask about what you’ve now got planned for tomorrow”.

Glen winks conspiratorially.

“I’ll message you with the time”.

“Can I at least have a hint?”

Glen shakes his head.

“Nope” he says, making the ‘p’ sound pop, “You said you like surprises”.

Bille laughs and rolls her eyes, immediately cursing herself for telling him that earlier.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” Glen says, pushing himself off her car and stepping towards her.

Billie only nods, a school-girl smile threatening to split her face.

She sucks in a breath when he leans in towards her, his lips grazing her cheek with a gentle kiss. She closes her eyes momentarily, opening them back up when he steps away, seeing him look down at her with a smile that makes her knees weak.

“Have a good night Billie”

Billie lets out a shaky, silent breath and smiles.

“You too Glen”.

He winks at her and suddenly Billie seriously considers cancelling her dinner plans, watching as he walks off towards his truck. He turns to look back at her when he reaches his car, that same damn gorgeous smile etched on his face as he waves at her. She stays frozen by her car, her mind reeling as she mentally goes over the afternoon she's just had, reaching up to wave back at him.

Moments later he's in his truck and driving away, leaving Billie standing alone in the Ikea parking lot with nothing but a stomach full of nerves and a mind full of excitement for tomorrow.

---

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

TAG LIST:

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#glen powell #glen powell fanfic #glen powell fic #glen powell series #glen powell smut #glen powell x ofc #glen powell fluff

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bad268 · 4 months

Note

maybe a kimi antonelli x reader oneshot where the reader is a journalist and kimi and her fall for each other?

love your stories!

The Exclusive (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Journalist! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (thank you love! I had fun with this <3 I used to be a journalism major so it was fun going back to my roots lol)

Warnings: Aged up Kimi

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1067

Summary: The exclusive interview with Kimi.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Right now, it was just a hobby. A little blog you started before college that then turned into a podcast and full-blown career. At least, that’s what it was looking like.

You started writing about the Formula 1 feeder series’ years ago because you wanted to give a platform to the smaller categories, and it blew up. It also blew your mind that these people who were around your age were already getting their feet in the door to the pinnacle of motorsport. You also had a knack for writing, so reporting on the drivers’ and the series’ themselves proved to be easy for you.

Soon enough, you started getting invited on behalf of different teams to interview their drivers. Mainly Prema, ART, Van Amersfoort, and MP Motorsport, but they were the biggest teams in each category, so it made sense.

The first time you went to the track was with Van Amersfoort in 2021. There was a race at your favorite track of Red Bull Ring, which you had mentioned on the blog at one point, so they invited you. You had heard of a new driver joining one of the teams, but since it was not Van Amersfoort, you did not plan to do a deep dive until after the race weekend.

You were running through the garages, looking for your iPad, so you could interview Oliver Bearman, the championship leader. Plus, you were already a guest in their garage. Might as well capitalize on it.

You finally found it, so you pulled out your microphone from your backpack as you walked down the pitlane. Most of the drivers were getting the track limits rundown from the stewards, so you knew Ollie would be free after the meeting.

Almost as if it were planned, you ran into someone while you were distracted. Looking up from where you dropped the microphone and a paper with the questions you had for Ollie, you’re met with a brown-eyed, curly-haired boy, and you're a goner.

You couldn’t help but stutter out an apology, but funny enough, he was doing the same. When you both finally stopped stuttering out apologies, he said, “My name’s Kimi.”

You told him your name, and the rest was history.

There was an unspoken rule that from that moment onward, mainly because you two became official not long after. You were only a guest of Prema. It was just a joke that Kimi made up, saying he would crash if you wore any other team’s merch on a race weekend. Sure, you did not believe it, but it’s not like you had anything against wearing your boyfriend’s team merch.

It also meant that you got exclusive Kimi Antonelli interviews whenever you wanted, and you would ask (manipulate) Kimi into messaging any driver you wanted to interview. There was one interview that boosted both of you into the ranks of motorsport.

“Kimi,” You said simply as soon as the podcast started.

“Y/n,” He repeated back as he looked at you over the microphone. You had recently started recording the podcasts to be posted to YouTube after being told to do it by Clement Novalak. He had a successful podcast, so you thought you better listen to his advice.

“2023 Formula 2 Champion has a nice ring to it, don’t you agree?”

“It does, yeah,” He laughed.

“Good, it would suck if you didn't,” You muttered into the microphone. “Anyways, I know this already because I’m cool, but I think my viewers should get the exclusive. Kimi, where will you be going next year?”

“I'm still racing,” He knew that was not what you were asking, but he’s been on enough of your podcasts to know that your fans love the banter.

“No shit, Sherlock,” You deadpanned with a dry laugh. “I mean what team will you drive.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” He teased, eyeing you from his place across from you.

“I already know, and if you don’t spill the beans, I’ll say it,” You threatened. “I’ve got your PR manager on speed dial, so don’t even try to threaten me with Sophie.”

“Fine, I guess I’m going to Mercedes,” Kimi sighed in mock hurt, but you knew it was all for show.

“How does it feel to be teammates with the George Russell and share a grid with the guy who introduced us again?”

“Ollie did not introduce us, don’t get the story messed up,” Kimi accused as he leaned forward on the couch, causing you to do the same. “You and your clumsiness is what got us to meet.”

“Oh, please! You were a stuttering mess, too. Do not put all the blame on me!”

“I never said I was blaming you!”

“It sounds like it!”

“Why are we arguing about how we met? We are both saying the same thing!”

“You’re right,” You said normally as you leaned back on the couch before whispering, “for once,” Into the microphone. You looked up at Kimi as he also sat back. “Anyways, now that we’ve settled you’re going to Mercedes, what track are you most excited for?”

“Monaco,” Kimi said immediately.

“How did I know you would say that?”

“Probably because I told you this a couple of days ago when you tested this question on me, and I answered Singapore, but you said that wasn’t good enough.”

“Hey, don’t expose me on my own podcast here!”

“Ok, my answer is Singapore,” He changed his answer as he raised his eyebrows at you, almost asking you to dispute his answer.

“I’ll cut this out,” Spoiler, no you did not. “But I don't think that’s the right answer.”

“What do you mean?” KImi gasped as he laughed in disbelief. “It’s my answer!”

“What is so special about Singapore? It's literally just hot, that’s it!”

“Well, yes, but-” Kimi tried but was cut off by your laughing. Eventually, you died down, and he continued, “The atmosphere is insane.”

“The atmosphere is also insane in Monza or Red Bull Ring but ok.”

“I’ve raced there.”

“Oh! I didn’t even think about that!”

“You thought I would prefer a track that I’ve already driven and won at?”

“I forgot the implications of my own question,” You giggled at yourself. “Anyways, I think that’s enough for today’s episode. The blog post will be up tomorrow, and the video will be up by Sunday. We’ll see you on the track!”

~~~~~

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indie-summer · 2 months

Text

The Cycling RPF Rec List

for @wtfanworkclassification

(tagging the blogs of the authors I know!!)

1. Favorite smut: a vocabulary, expanding by @strigimorphaes

It’s almost unfair that I made myself choose only one for each category, but yes, if I must, this is The One Smut for me. To put it mildly, it makes me weak in the knees every time I read it. It must have been like five times by now. To be read with the AC on and a glass of water by your side. Gotta love p*rn with feelings.

2. Favorite multi chapter: Faking It by @goingslightlymads

Am I biased when talking about this fic? Yes, because it was one of my Secret Santa gifts. Do I think I am unfair? Nope, not at all! I’ve never had any other experience in Cycling RPF like when I read (scratch that, binged) this one: it made me laugh and cry and it had my heart racing and had me hugging pillows at 3am. What a ride.

3. Favorite Sci-fi AU: jonas vingegaard goes back to the sea by @bakurasilver

Beautiful and clever. A reflection on the meaning of life and love, undercover as sci-fi. Bawled my eyes out with this one.

4. Favorite Fantasy AU: Fierce Creatures by @inbetweenpages

Great world building, incredibly fun and hot. Come here for wouthieu and stay for mathsper friendship, a very mysterious vampire!Jonas and a sentient house.

5. Favorite fluff: Worth it by @ridingupsaturn

Melancholic fluff. My favorite kind of fluff. Read it about ten times and had my heart fluttering through all of them. Love is kind of awesome, isn’t it?

6. Favorite angst: Drought by booming_business (part 2 of the A Study in Water series)

Shoutout to sad carpenter!Jonas who made a complete wreck out of me. The entire series is excellent, but this fic in particular is a masterpiece on its own! Also foundational exes!tadejonas fic before it was even a thing. Groundbreaking!!

7. Favorite drabble: doing what heroes do by @etapereine

I have two favorite types of drabbles: the one in which you feel like you read an entire story in just 100 words and the one that immediately makes you feel in absolute need of a 50k story as a follow-up because of all the possibilities it introduces you to. This one is definitely the second kind. I really need a full Percy Jackson AU long fic on my desk in, like, a week ago. Olympian demigods at the Olympics maybe??? Someone please???

8. Favorite crack/comedy: The 2024 Paris-Roubaix mass heat incident by Anonymous

Top 5 funniest shit I’ve ever read in my life and I’m not even exaggerating.

9. Favorite non-cyclists AU: all hearts in love use their own tongues by @thedeadparrot

I’m sorry, I’m not really a well-studied person when it comes to English literature. This is the only way I could ever read Shakespeare. I regret nothing.

10. Favorite remix/fix-it: Unbelievable, or only in Gotham by Lili_Writes_Banhof

Yes I’m parcial yes of course I am biased because it’s fixing one of my fics, but I don’t care. It’s cute, it’s fun, it’s fluffy (like all the awesome works from this author), you should all immediately go read it!

11. Favorite Soulmate AU: All your life by @interdisciplinary-disaster

I never once had given any thoughts about geese before this fic. Also this is the only cycling fic where the main character is not one of the cyclists, but an adorably exhausted old goose (at least the way I see it, because frankly, what a scene stealer). It changed my core!!

12. Favorite rarepair: Jonas is the boss by @mundanememory

Because ok, now everyone loves Jonas/Matteo but back in April it was a rarepair!! And this fic is awesome and hot and clever and features little big boss being… erm, well treated by a lovable giant ginger, so it deserves a million recs!

#cycling rpf #not here for the maillot scintillement it’s way too far out of reach #i just think these fics need to be read. period.

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oonajaeadira · 11 months

Note

i was rereading a GTTT chapter and Patricio has just been in my mind rent free, creeping in from daydreams in places i should not be daydreaming. So I’ve got a PATS question for you. How would Patricio and Reader navigate the issue of him being too drained sexually when Reader is needy?

Hello, lovely.

First of all, I want to apologize for the long hiatus I've taken on Pats and Pres. This ask--and many more--have been sitting in my inbox for far too long and I'd like to think that answering late is better than never. Thank you for your patience with me!!!

This is a very interesting question and it sparked some over-arching thoughts. I have half an answer for you here--from his point of view, and therefore the "drained" part of it. Pres may not seem too needy here, but look to the next installment for more on that.

Also, a non-apology here to everyone.

For so long I've made you believe that Patricio is confident, in control...or at least in denial about it when he's not. But he's growing. Changing. There may be more vulnerability here than you want and much less sexy times. Not everyone has a good day every day.

Kiss and Tell: Everyone's Allowed a Bad Day (GTTT PATS)

FANDOM: Calls - Apple TV (PATS is a character from ep. 3. “Pedro Across the Street.” This is not RPF.)

As with all of my PATS installments, warnings abound for explicit content. (This one's much tamer than most.)

(gif by cavill-henry)

It’s nights like these that he sometimes wished he smoked. He’ll pour himself a drink once the client wakes up and leaves, but he doesn’t want her to catch it on his breath.

Bourbon. Bath. Bed. Maybe something short and calm on streaming. There’s a new cowboy film just dropped by that Spanish director looks good.

Leaning on the kitchen counter and staring out across the silent living room, he contemplates the novel you left on the coffee table. Wonders if you’re missing it.

It occurs to him that he could call you. He can do that now. He doesn’t need a reason anymore, but even if the reason is a rough day…actually, maybe that’s even more reason to call you. In fact, he really should ask you–

His phone vibrates on the countertop and he frowns. It’s your pattern and his heart races a little, not only because it’s you, but thinking he’s been lost in thought too long, that he’s missed the three-hour mark. But a flip of the phone shows him he’s got 20 minutes to go.

Odd. It’s not like you to interrupt a session.

“Hey, muñeca, everything okay?” he mumbles, stepping barefoot out onto the front porch in nothing but his sweatpants.

Your voice sounds far away, “Oh shit,” before a riffling sound and then a clearer, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit dial. I didn’t know I did. I was going to call and then I saw the time…I know you’re in the middle of a session, oh loverboy I’m so sorry–”

Just the sound of your voice is an instant balm. “It’s okay, it’s okay, she’s sleeping. I was actually just thinking about calling you.”

“Oh, really?” There’s something there behind your fluster, hiding among the smile in your voice, something that he might not have noticed if you hadn’t said you meant to call.

“Something you wanted to call me about?”

There’s a sound in the background. An announcement. You’re in public. “Um, no, not really. I just had a lonely moment, that’s all.”

“Well that’s an ego boost. You wanna come spend the night?”

There’s a pause. Shocked, judging by your voice. “Really? On an appointment night?”

He scratches his head and focuses on his feet as he aimlessly paces the porch. “Sure. I mean, if like a quarter after ten isn’t too late for you to drive just to go to bed.”

“With the weather shifting and how warm you run? It’s never too late to say yes to a heated bed.”

He smiles. “Glad I can be of service.” There's silence from you and he cringes. “Shit. Not you– not– Was that a bad choice of word?”

“No. It’s just–”

“Hey. I want you here tonight. I wanna talk to you.” Another silence. He supposes that sounds ominous. It shouldn’t. “You know, here. Not…on a phone.” He’s still not good at this.

“That sounds nice…. You, uh, need anything? I’m at the grocery store.”

“No. Just you.” It feels good to say. Right. It’s what’s needed to break what feels like an odd tension into a few comfortable, mutually smiling moments. “So. The grocery store. And you’re feeling lonely. At a grocery store.”

Your laughter--hushed but musical--is kept close to the phone. “Well I am standing in produce and they just got in some preeeeeetty nice looking eggplants.”

“Wow.”

Another laugh, less hushed, throatier. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’ll let you get back to your work. I assume you’ve got a sleeping beauty to wake up.”

Pulling the phone away from his face for a timecheck, he winces. “Yeah. I’ll see you in 20?”

“I’d say I can’t wait, but you know that I will.”

Wow. “I know and I…”Something sweet twists inside. “I know.”

After you hang up he stands a minute more on the porch in the dark. The leaves are almost all off the trees now, the crickets are gone. His feet are freezing and the skin on his torso is goosebumping; doing its best–and failing–to lift his fine hairs to shield him from the autumn chill. But it’s far from unpleasant and he finds that he’s awake for the sensation in a way he hasn’t been in a while.

He’s alive again in a way he hasn’t been in a while.

The last couple of months have been…nothing short of amazing.

He should tell you that. He should say it.

But he’s got to get to that point where…he accepts it.

Not the relationship…the fact that there’s always a possibility it’s too good to be true, that he could lose it. He could lose you.

You’re handling everything so well, but for how long? How long until you make him choose?

Oh fuck, please don’t make me choose, preciosa, please.

The phone buzzes in his hand. Timer; no need to look, just thumbs the button to silence. On another night, he’d allow himself more time, let the client sleep while he mused. But he’s got a job to do.

And someone special arriving soon.

So he packs these thoughts away and goes quietly inside to prepare.

________

He’s just poured the detergent in the washing machine when he hears the door open. “Hey, I’m just cleaning up, gimme a second.”

Out in the entry, your shoes clatter on the floor and then your keys jingle on the kitchen counter and before he knows it you’re on him, topless and crowding him against the washing machine, kissing him like he’s just come back from war. It’s jarring but pleasant and full of hungry sighs…until there’s a ping in his calf muscle.

“Ooh, hey, Pres, hey hey, hang on.” Taking your face in his hands he calms, he whispers, he soothes you in order to soothe himself, but you catch on instantly, concern splashing over you.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

A kiss to the tip of your nose, to your smart little nose. “No, no, I’m a little sore; just had a difficult session–a difficult day, actually. And I haven’t showered yet. So don’t get yourself too worked up here. You don’t want me like this.”

He expects you to recoil from this, to find the sex with someone else still lingering on his skin. You don’t.

You simply run your hands over his sides, lean in to kiss his chin. “Of course I do. I want you like whatever you are.”

You’re backlit from the kitchen and there’s something like a soft halo around you, bringing a glow to the roll of your cheeks, the swipe of your lip. Tracing these with a finger and finding himself reflected in your eyes, he trusts you, accepts this, tries to see himself like you do. How are you so effortless?

There’s nothing but surrender when you rake your fingers through his beard and push yourself up onto tiptoe to press a warm kiss to his forehead. “But if you really feel that way, beautiful, let me run you a bath.”

Everytime he opens his eyes and you’re there, it's like a small miracle.

“Come on,” you smile, taking his hand and guiding him to the stairs, “let me take care of you and you can tell me about your day.”

You’re perfect. He’s so grateful he picked up the phone tonight when he did.

________

“Mmmmm, that’s good.” The sigh comes up from his bottom wells, like a contented creature crawling out of hidden caverns within. The back of his head rests in your palm, warm water spilling over his scalp. Your hands whisper and calm and soothe. He spends so much time using his touch to bring relaxation to others that he’d all but forgotten that it could go the other way. And your touch–

“So there was some heavy lifting tonight, huh?” Your finger lightly wipes away an errant rivulet from the corner of his eye. “Ness, right?”

The ghost of irritation looms. “Mmm. She has a pretty severe tailbone injury. Didn’t tell me about it before she showed up. Lot of full-body lifting on the table just to get her in the right positions for stretch.”

“I see. You’ll feel it tomorrow. And sore tailbone means no actual sex tonight.”

“Oh no, we had some fun. She’s got weeks of recovery ahead of her and she needed some practice re-routing some natural orgasm responses to different muscle groups when she ejaculates.”

“Ejaculates? She…? Ohhh.” A loving hand begins to wander lightly over his chest. “I assumed. My bad.”

“Sorry. Should have been more clear. But yeah.”

“No need to apologize. I don’t know why I hadn’t just assumed that you…took all forms of payment.”

He peeks an eye open to catch your reaction as you reach over the side of the tub toward him and finds your warm, curious smile. “Not to disparage the vaginal anatomy, but sometimes it’s nice to have my dick handled by someone who has a lifetime experience with their own.”

“Noted. Fair.”

Closing his eyes and sinking into the warm bath of your care a lifetime goes by with your hands running over his skin.

“You’re very accommodating.”

A kiss lands on his temple. “Wait until you realize I’m terribly selfish and am in it for the rewards points.” When his smile fades, your hands slow. “That was a joke.”

“I know.” Sensing a shift in tone coming when he turns to you, you instinctively pull back, but he catches your hand in his, pulling it in to place a wet kiss to your knuckles. “Would you mind if I don’t want to have sex tonight?”

“Of course. That’s okay.” A half-smile. Are you covering disappointment?

“I’m more than happy to go down on you if you–”

But a shake of your head stops him. “No, it's fine. I can tell you’re tired. You said you had a hard day. Wanna tell me about it while we get you dried off and into bed?”

He feels like a child as he simply nods, allows you to help him up, succumbs to you as you care for him. It’s easy to do, to melt under your attention, to crack open and spill. He does his best not to control the spread as he generalizes a failed report at work, a difficult project he’s fallen behind on. By the time you’re sliding into the sheets and curling up next to him, he’s breaching the topic he’s been deciding and undeciding and deciding again to tell you about–that his mother called without warning.

“She wants to meet you.”

Your breathing stills in the darkness. “You told your mom about me.”

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I..” you stutter, “I guess I didn’t… I’m flattered that you talk about me?”

There’s a pang of guilt that he’s let you believe you’re not important enough for him to tell the world that you’re in his life. But he sighs as you squeeze your arm around his middle. “You might feel differently if you met her.”

“Are you kidding? I’d love to meet your…is it just your mom?”

“And my father. I have an older brother but he lives in Australia. Doesn’t go home much.”

“Home issssSantiago?”

“Just outside of it. Rancagua.”

Another squeeze. Perhaps that was a lie; your arm around him and the brush of your lips on his shoulder feels like his true home now.

“So this call was stressful because she wants to meet me. And you’re nervous?”

“The call was stressful because…I don’t…want her to meet you.” Your squeeze lightens a bit and he slides his grip over your arm in case you decide he’s awful and want to pull away. He knows he should let you go if you want to but– “I wanted to ask you, Pres…I’m sorry I don’t know if I can ask this much from you but–”

It almost breaks his heart when your arm slides through his hand, when your warmth leaves his side, when you abandon him…

But it’s only for the time it takes to hear the click of the bedside lamp, register the bright sting and spill of light, and you’re back beside him, leaning over him, turning his face to yours with one patient hand on his cheek. “What’s going on. I’ve never seen you like this.”

Shit. Get it together.

“You’re going to think I’m a fucking jerk–”

“Don’t tell me what you think I’m going to think, sir. Tell me what you need from me. Just say it.”

This leaves him with depleted gambling chips, raises the stakes. But you’re right. He has to be honest.

“The relationship I have with my family is…strained. That’s why I live here and not there. I see them somewhat regularly, but the holidays are when the whole family gets together–all the cousins–and it’s just a lot. There’s a lot that’s expected, a lot of judgements…it’s overwhelming. I can barely make it through myself, but having you there? Watching you be scrutinized on top of it when we’re just figuring this out? I just…no.”

“You know I won’t tell them–”

“It’s not that, fuck, it’s not that.” He surges in for a kiss, taking you in deep, willing you to understand him by osmosis; if only… “Every time I’ve gone down for the holidays it’s stressful enough…it’s…it’s bad enough that I’m away from my clients, but–”

“But under stress the itch gets worse. And you don’t have your outlet. And you’re not in control.”

Oh god, you see him. You see him and he’s so…fucking pathetic.

The last thing he expects is for you to pepper kisses along his mouth and chin, to dot a lingering one on his cheek before pulling him into your chest, to cradle him, breathe into his hair.

But it’s exactly what you do.

“What do you need, beautiful boy? Anything you want.”

He breathes. Sighs. Curses himself for doubting you, for assuming you wouldn’t surprise him. Allows you to hold the weight of his heart on your own without a spotter.

“I need to…not do the ‘meet the family’ thing this year. I just want you to myself for a while.”

A hum of sympathy, of bittersweetness, one that stakes his heart into the ground at your feet. “Oh Patricio. Is that all?” Your breast moves under his cheek as you lean over to turn off the light, your soft curves and soft scent and soft hum whispering to him, calming him, soothing him into you. “I’ll admit that I’m a little sad that I don’t get to show you off to my family, but I definitely see the appeal of a quiet holiday season, just us hiding away from the world together. You want me to yourself? Did you really think I would find that anything but absolutely wonderful?”

All at once, the strains of the day overtake him, the need to say more is gone and took his energy to do so right along with it. A whole lifetime of relief in just an hour. That’s your secret power. Always has been. He cannot think of words more meaningful than, “Thank you.”

Your fingertips begin their pattern of affection along his jaw, tattooing a spell of sleep through him. “This really means a lot to you, huh.” He’s too gone to get his voice to work and it seems you assume he’s fallen asleep. “Well you mean the world to me. You don’t even know, mister.”

It’s not worth the effort to drag himself from the downward pull of dreams to ask you to say more about that. Not when he knows you’ll be right here in the morning and he can ask you then.

Or say the same thing right back to you.

Maybe this time he’ll find a way to do that.

______

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

#good things take time #pedro across the street #calls fanfiction #23

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