ma’am please ur so good at this i just want a one (1) sentence drabble with chepe i’m begging u please i will give you all my savings and my first born
y’all i am so sorry there are so many chepe asks in my inbox from like march askfggkh please forgive me here is something i’m working on for him
You don’t like it, you realize, being this high up.
It’s putting you on edge, the same kind of weightlessness in your stomach now that’s felt often before something bad happens - like your insides are in constant free-fall, every nerve suspended and weightless.
You stand with your arms around your waist, as if by physically reminding yourself that you’re on solid ground, you’d be able to make the feeling go away.
Or maybe you just don’t like being here.
An entire wall of floor to ceiling windows frames the city like a painting - a snapshot of some moment in time, especially striking at night when the horizon is obscured and all you can see is the twinkling of orange and yellow lights and the blinking red dots of a cell towers in the distance, far away from the city somewhere among the trees.
And you like to think that you can hear the sounds of the city too, headlights of honking cars barely visible down below, reflecting the dark asphalt as they travel on roads as if fixed on a track. The sounds of voices in a crowd, nothing discernible, just a jumble of noise and mixing conversations, not a lot - not distracting enough, but it is enough to distract you from your own thoughts.
“Come sit in my lap.”
You refocus on the glass in time to see him pat the thigh of his left leg, spread broad against the white sofa, the same hand moving to rest against its spine, tapping his fingers against where the fabric stretches, the other holding a small glass filled with about a finger full of whiskey.
“You promised to show me the city.”
“I will. You’re just impatient.”
“Impatient because you promised to three days ago.”
“Yes, and you’ve been a very good girl waiting.”
