#I’m on set all day again tomorrow and I love the film but hate this location we’ve been at for weeks

[teememdee]

complaining

[katnissmellarkkk]

Hiiii! I wanted to write a little something simple for Everlark and decided to lowkey mix two requests! “A kiss on the chest” and “Katniss learning what they did to Peeta in MJ and kissing his scars”. It was supposed to be set Post-Mockingjay but I instead made it a sequel to my “Peeta wasn’t hijacked in MJ reunion oneshot AU”. If you haven’t read it, it’s fine, the title right there tells you everything necessary to know 😂.

I hope everyone who reads this likes it! I loved writing it and I would really appreciate anyone who enjoyed this to like/reblog! It makes me so so so happy 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹. Also thank you to all my constant encouragers, you guys make my day with all your sweetness 🥹🥹🥹🥹.

Summary : Katniss learns more about what they did to Peeta in the Capitol and sets out to try and make him better. [Non - Hijacked Peeta Mockingjay AU].

-

Burned. Check mark.

Whipped. Check mark.

Starved. Check mark.

Shocked. Check mark.

Tortured (with water and [redacted][redacted]). Check mark.

I toss the file back onto the table where it was left by Peeta’s doctors, unable to stare at it any longer. Unable to stomach reading every which way Peeta was harmed while held prisoner in the Capitol. Again. I’ve already read it upwards of ten times tonight.

It never gets easier. Reading the extensive list of his injuries, reading the details they managed to pry out of him, visualizing what horrible acts were done to to him, listening to his doctors confer among themselves in sympathy and disgust, they themselves deeply disturbed by what he experienced at the hand of the president himself.

“Sweetheart, would you make up your mind?” Haymitch snaps. He’s in the worst mood he’s been in a while.

“Huh?” I furrow my brow and glare up at him.

“Either read that thing or stop messing with it.” He indicates toward Peeta’s file. “I’ve sat here and watched you throw it down and pick it back up a dozen times already. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re pathetic, Haymitch,” I say back but there’s little bite in my tone. I’m too preoccupied with the image of Peeta trapped in a freezing cold cell, naked and bloody and alone and terrified, and it’s driving me absolutely insane. It’s suffocating me, from the inside out. It’s taking up all of the space in my head, leaving no room for even bickering with Haymitch.

And Haymitch knows it too.

Of course, he of all people should be able to read me. After all, the same stupid file — and his crippling remorse — is undoubtedly what’s put Haymitch in such an awful mood in the first place.

“Just go see him, Katniss,” he murmurs, giving me a pointed look. “Go. You’re of no use to him just sitting out here, reading about what’s already been done. Get up and go see him.”

He’s right and I know it. As much as I hate to admit it, I know Haymitch has me there.

But still, I stall. It’s not that I don’t want to see Peeta. The opposite, in fact. Since his rescue thirty-seven days ago — not that I’m counting exactly — I’ve spent copious amounts of time with him. I’ve spent every waking moment that I could in his presence and as many of my sleeping ones that I’m allowed.

The doctors aren’t really thrilled about our arrangement there. They want to keep watch on Peeta as he sleeps, to watch and study and take notes and examine him further, but evidently it’s rather hard to analyze his nightmares with me wrapped around his torso all night, like a protective pretzel.

It’s not that I don’t want to see Peeta right now. It’s the fact that I don’t think I can look him in the eye, after reading exactly what those monsters Snow hired did to him, and pretend it isn’t all my fault.

“I don’t think the doctors are done with him…” I mumble, avoiding Haymitch’s eyes now.

“Cut the crap, Sweetheart.”

“Go away, Haymitch.”

“Go see the boy or I’ll find a way for you to spend tomorrow filming a propo.”

I glare at him again. “Would you stop?”

“Coin is getting hungry for some new ones.”

“Okay, fine, you win!” I exclaim, springing up out of my chair. “Congratulations, Haymitch. You blackmailed me into going to see my own boyfriend. Happy?” I hiss, kicking him in the shin as I walk past his chair.

Not hard enough to hurt him apparently. Not even hard enough for him to care. Instead he picks apart my wording with a smirk. “Your boyfriend? How darn cute.”

“Shut up,” I call as I exit the room.

The last thing I hear is him making loud, obnoxious kissing sounds in my wake.

-

I slip past the doctors, both the head and the medical, and beyond the nurses and supply carts and trays of food, into the room where I’ve spent more hours in the last month than I can count on two hands.

“Hi,” Peeta whispers softly as I close the door behind me. He’s shirtless, in bed and seemingly half-asleep already, laying on his side beneath the sheets. Waiting for me.

He looks so much better than he did the night of his rescue. His bruises are healing nicely, he’s gaining weight and muscle back, his hair is clean and curly again — thanks to me and Thirteen’s strong, medicinal shampoo — and his skin is starting to lose that scary, pale, translucent look.

But he’s still so hurt. He’s still injured — internally far more than externally — and I swear, I can feel my heart swell up and break into pieces just looking at him too long.

“Hi, baby,” I murmur softly, crawling beneath the blankets and folding him into my arms. Even with all the weight lost, he’s much too large for me to hold completely, so I make due wrapping my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist and stroking the back of his head tenderly.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he says, burying his face where my neck and shoulder meet.

A wave of guilt ripples through me. “Sorry I took so long.”

But he shakes his head, still having no room for spite in his body. Even after everything he’s been through, he’s still so sweet. He’s still so warm and kind and generous.

Well, towards me at least. The same can’t be said for his behavior toward Haymitch, who he blames for leaving us both in the dark about the rebellion.

“You were worth the wait,” he whispers. “You’re worth every wait.”

I feel myself blush and cover it swiftly by kissing his cheek. “How was your tests today?” I ask, smoothing his hair back.

He shoots me a sardonic look now and I giggle like a little kid. Every day when his dry humor peaks through the darkness, I get filled with ridiculous, unparalleled — uncharacteristic — delight.

“Still tedious as ever?” I murmur, rubbing his shoulder with my pointer finger.

“Boring as ever,” he mumbles before closing his eyes again. He’s clearly exhausted from all the probing they did today. And I know I should sleep too.

I usually sleep whenever he sleeps, wake only when the doctors make me leave, spend as much time with him as I can before getting sent away. But tonight I just can’t. I can’t make my brain shut off, despite the fact that at least half the compound is in bed, the other not far behind.

And of course, even tired as he is, even with everything going on in his mind, he still notices my distress.

“What is it?” He whispers, not even opening his eyes.

“Hmm?” I feign oblivion.

“Katniss, I can see something’s wrong.” He opens his baby blues, peaking down at me through his long, tangled up lashes. He has the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen on a boy.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I reassure him, kissing his upper arm because it’s the closest thing within my reach.

“You saw my file?” He’s fully awake and coherent now, his voice much stronger than before. His tone leaves no room for question, even if I could lie straight to his face.

“Yes,” I whisper, feeling suddenly nervous he’ll be angry. Maybe it was an invasion of privacy to read it, I don’t know. The doctors left it out, I just assumed it was okay. “Are you mad?”

“No.” He chuckles lightly before moving his hand down to my hip, tugging me closer if even possible. “No, I don’t care. Read it as much as you want.”

He really means it too. He really doesn’t care if I invade his privacy, dig into his business and overstep my bounds. I don’t know if I’d be so generous if the situation were reversed.

Then again, going by the things I just read, he’s already been tortured and humiliated beyond belief. I doubt he has any concern for privacy left.

“You can ask me anything, you know,” Peeta says after a minute and I cup his cheek in my hand, shaking my head instinctively. I can’t ask him to talk about what they did. That would be cruel.

Instead I lean up and kiss him on the mouth, slowly and softly. Conveying every feeling I have for him, conveying every ounce of affection and gratitude and longing pent up inside me.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, Peeta,” I whisper against his lips.

I feel his hand cradle the back of my head, massaging my scalp. “I don’t want to keep anything from you,” he finally says, resting his forehead against mine. “Not anything that you want to know.”

My eyes fall, breaking contact with his. I have questions, yes — understatement if I ever heard one — but I refuse to pry and I’m terrified to ask and I don’t even know where to begin after what I read.

But then something catches my attention. A thick, red, angry line, splayed right in the middle of Peeta’s chest. It stands out vividly against his pale skin and blonde chest hair and I can’t look away from it now.

“What’s this?” I murmur, running my finger lightly across the surface, clocking the way Peeta cringes a little at the contact. “Does that hurt?”

He looks at the wall behind my head for a long moment before nodding. “That’s from a whip.” He meets my gaze again before casting his eyes low. “I don’t remember what I did to earn it.”

“Nothing,” I immediately gasp, my head shaking and brows knitting together. The idea that Peeta earned anything that happened in that mansion blasphemous to my ears. “You did nothing, baby.”

“I know,” he agrees, pressing his lips to my forehead lightly. “I just can’t remember why they whipped me that day.”

That day. Because there’s so many days where he was whipped to choose from. Of course.

My eyes land on another mark, this one dark purple and almost circular, high up on his torso, almost on his shoulder. It’s not a bruise, although at first glance it could be mistaken for one. No, it’s definitely a scar. From what, I can’t tell.

I trace it with my thumb, rubbing it back and forth. It’s raised and rough to the touch, a little jagged even, like it never properly healed.

His hand comes up to touch my arm, almost out of reflex, halting my ministrations. “That’s from the early days,” he explains, with almost a touch of humor in his voice. “They were more creative then… and they had a lot of matches on hand.”

It takes me a beat to figure out what he means by matches. “Fire? Fire matches, Peeta?”

“Yeah.” He nods sheepishly. “Snow had a big supply evidently.”

“I will burn him alive,” I say through gritted teeth before I can think better of it.

“Calm down, firecracker,” Peeta laughs but I’m fuming. I’m fuming mad and ready to fight at a moments notice. I probably could even make a half-decent propo right now, the amount of venom coursing through my veins.

I encourage my own anger, feed it, in fact. Because I want to be angry. I want to feel this rage.

Because if I don’t, I’ll start crying. And that’ll only serve to make Peeta feel even worse. Which I can’t let happen.

I’ve already done that too many times.

I don’t tell him any of what I’m thinking. Nothing good could come from that. Instead I search for a way to mask my anger, protect him from seeing it.

I stretch up and press a kiss against the corner of Peeta’s mouth, traveling to his chin, down the side of his neck and over his collarbone.

He responds by letting out a deep sigh, clearly enjoying the attention.

I journey further down his body until my lips land on his chest, exactly where his scar is.

“What are you doing?” He asks breathlessly, peering down at me now. “You don’t have to-“

“Let me,” I whisper, tracing it again with my finger. He shudders a little at the contact. “Let me make it better.”

I hear him swallow hard. “Okay.” He nods a little, quietly inhaling and exhaling.

I lean in slowly and press my lips to the mark, the whip scar, soft and tender.

I can feel him relax beneath me, deflating almost. I don’t sense any sign of discomfort, so I take that as my cue to continue on, kissing the same spot again and again, moving up and down the length of his wound, creating a circuit and following it repeatedly, waiting until he tells me to stop.

“Katniss,” he murmurs, sounding almost pained, like my name hurts.

“Yeah?“

“Thank you.” His voice is almost inaudible, almost a praise or a plea. Tears leak out the corners of his tired eyes.

I have to fight to keep my lip from trembling, to stop myself from crying too. Instead I crawl up his body, keeping my legs wrapped around his waist and fold my arms loosely around his neck.

“Let me kiss them all,” I say into his skin. My mouth travels across the top of his shoulder, my eyes closed, moving by the touch of my lips alone, not stopping until I land on his burn.

I press kiss after kiss into the bumpy, rough scar, until I feel Peeta’s breathing even out against me. I feel his heart beating against me and his chest rise and fall with mine, and an ember of hope that my method may be working grows stronger.

“Roll over for me,” I urge, keeping my voice as gentle as my touch.

“You don’t have to do them all,” he says but I can tell he’s enjoying this immensely. I can tell this helping him more than any treatment the doctors have recommended.

“I want to, Peeta,” I insist, no question in my tone.

Slowly and lethargically, he complies, rolling over so his back is facing me. I keep my hold on him, both my arms and legs wrapped around him like a baby animal clings to their mother.

He has a plethora of scars and wounds on his back. More than I’ve been able to stomach yet. Not once since his rescue have I been able to truly face the sight before me now.

I begin at the top, resting the palms of my hands on his shoulder blades, pressing my mouth to the center of his spine, to the back of his neck, the back of his ribs, anywhere with a painful mark or dark bruise.

I keep going, never tiring, as if I can kiss him better. As if my kiss can take away everything that’s happened, everything that I unintentionally caused and everything I ache to go back and stop. I kiss him like I can make him whole again. Like I can heal his fractured heart.

Eventually he relaxes underneath me, his breathing evens out again and he goes slack.

Even then, I keep kissing him. Even in his sleep, I refuse to stop trying to heal his hurt.

“I love you, Peeta,” I whisper against his arm, knowing full well that he cannot hear me anymore. “I love you and I’m so sorry that I couldn’t save you from this. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

My lips are still on his back when the doctors order me out of the room.

-

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐒

[ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] Another repost from 2021. I'll always have a soft spot for this fic. [ SYNOPSIS ] You're a talented, hot mess of a screenwriter. Zeke is a beloved actor/writer/director that seemingly has his shit together. What better way to repair your reputation than by fake dating him at the behest of your agent? [ WORD COUNT ] 8.8k [ CONTENT ] Film industry AU, fake dating, tall!reader, y/n has a personality, drug use, alcohol, sexual harassment (Don't fret! Zeke is not the harasser!), misogyny, depression, cigarettes, y/n is neurotic and doesn't like eating in front of people, existential angst, swimming pools, Floch is your agent, hungover!Zeke. [ PLAYLIST ] Here's the link.

A car barreled down the street, a puff of dark exhaust spewing out like a specter. The wind carried it off, now nothing more than a grey stain in the air. Still, the noxious smell made its way over to you and buried itself in your nose, seemingly singeing every hair. You sneezed and wiped your nose with the back of your hand, hoping no one saw you. In any other moment, you wouldn’t care.

But unfortunately today was a day different from the rest. You had to present and composed. Dignified. The exact opposite of how you were two weeks ago…

You’d been dragged to one of those gaudy industry parties: a grandiloquent​​ celebration for the cast and crew of a film you co-wrote.

You wore an understated, black sheath dress much too short for the occasion. On the model, the bottom hem rested gracefully above the knee, thighs mostly obscured by the cotton-polyester fabric. But you spent most of the night tugging on your dress and dissociating.

Your conversations were stilted. Your words tinged with uncertainty and distaste. Men licked their lips as they eyed your exposed thighs, occasionally winking if you caught them. The longer you stayed, the more your humiliation bloomed into an unspeakable rage.

Unable to contain yourself, you took to the stage and aired out your grievances. You pointed directly at a studio head, one that had been ogling you all night, and told him he probably had a “fucked-up looking, duck dick.”

It was no surprise the industry didn’t hold such high regard for your blatant disrespect. 

Proverbial water filled your lungs with every attempt to mend the situation. You nearly ruined a press junket with an impromptu apology, your hand gripping the microphone like a lifebuoy. Writers and script doctors, people you once considered friends, retreated and left you in their wake. You weren’t worthy of the insurance the studios had to take out to employ you. They’d rather watch you drown.

But for whatever reason your agency believed your talent was worth going through hell for.

“You can’t fuck this up!” your agent shouted through the phone. “Act normal. Smile or something. That’s not outside of your skill set, is it? ‘Cause if it is, you can go fuck off right now and continue ruining your career on your own dime.” His tone changed to a calmer fury. “Act like you are sociable and reliable. Please. For me.”

“Hate to break it to you, but I’m a writer. Acting’s definitely outta my skill set.”

“I am going to wring your little neck on our therapeutic, nature walk tomorrow. I swear to fucking god.”

You struggled to stifle a laugh as he berated you about how to position yourself in your chair and what food to order. He even told you what clothes to wear: a gauzy, light pink sundress that barely covered your ass and a trendy pair of chunky sandals. But instead you showed up at the restaurant in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. You looked positively pedestrian.

“Alright. Fine. I’ll be cordial.”

“For the love of—Act like you’re interested in him! You’re lucky he agreed to this. Flirt, be coy. ‘Oh wow, you look soooooo good.’”

“Is that how you woo the boys and girls?”

“Do you ever want to have a job again? Do you want opportunities?” 

“I mean… Duh.”

“Then make this believable. We need people to think you’re stable. And who knows? Maybe you’ll actually like him.”

You rolled your eyes. The idea of “dating” a man to make yourself seem even-keeled and hireable was laughable. Sure, he was rather popular with the masses and industry folk. A beloved actor. A clever screenwriter. A visionary director or some shit. And yeah, maybe he was one of the more dependable men to work with. He was seemingly the exact opposite of you.

He was the industry’s golden boy.

Floch seethed through the phone. “Listen. To. Me. You are going to act like you’re having the fucking time of your stupid life out there, got it? You’re going to ham it up for the paparazzi.”

“Why would they give a shit about this? We’re not A-listers.”

“I fucking hired them, that’s why. Also I’d argue Zeke’s pretty A-list; he’s just boring as fuck… Shit. My daughter’s teacher is telling me I’m making the other parents uncomfortable. I gotta go.”

“Wha—where are you?”

“A PTA meeting.”

And with that Floch hung up.

“Okay,” you muttered.

You stood outside the restaurant, waiting for this Zeke Yeager. Part of you considered running off and finding refuge in the cutlery store across the street. But no, that would make you even more unappealing. You were being watched after all. Suddenly you were suspicious of every person around. Every car, every pedestrian, could have been a paid pair of lingering eyes. In a panic you tried to call Floch only to get his voicemail.

“You’ve reached Floch Forster. I can’t answer the phone right now becau—Louisa quit biting your brother! Jesus fucking… Leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I feel like it.”

You opted not to leave a voicemail.

As aggressive as Floch could be, he always was your biggest cheerleader. When he took you on as a client he made it clear you were his main focus. The only other person he represented was a surrealist director from Chile he had never spoken to directly.

You sighed and looked at your phone, hoping you’d find solace in your barrage of notifications. But none of them were particularly interesting. Still, you scrolled mindlessly, entering some sort of trance. The smell of cigarette smoke was what brought you back to the trappings of reality. You turned around to see Zeke.

“I thought you’d be shorter,” he quipped, taking a drag. “I don’t know why; don’t ask.”

“Is this how you say hello to people?” you asked, voice bristling with irritation.

“Yeah. You want one?” He held out his pack of expensive, imported cigarettes.

“Nah. I quit years ago. The taste makes me nauseous now.”

“How tragic.” He narrowed his eyes and took another drag. “You know I think I’ve met you before.”

“I don’t think so. I’d remember that.”

He wore a dark green flannel with a few buttons undone, his blonde chest hair peeking out. His beard wasn’t as neat as it was on camera; it was a tad longer, a little bushier. You preferred it over the perfectly manicured one. His long legs were clothed in dark blue denim, with a sizable hole in the knee. It was a relief that he hadn’t dressed up either.

“No, no. I definitely have. It was at—what’s her name—Yelena’s. You were with all those coked out girls. I tried to introduce myself, but you ignored me.” He laughed nervously. “But it’s fine. Do you still run around with them?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. That gaggle of starlets hadn’t crossed your mind in a year.

“No. I got sick of babysitting adult children with perpetual nosebleeds.”

“It does get old after a while. I knew I was done with that whole scene after I gave a guy naloxone behind a Scientology Celebrity Centre.”

“Can’t say I ever had something like that happen.”

“I don’t recommend it.”

He took a few steps closer and wrapped his arms around you, cigarette precariously resting between his fingers. He smelled like fresh laundry and tobacco. You swallowed hard, unable to recall the last time you let someone hug you. The only downside of it all was the potential of your hair getting singed.

“What the fuck, dude?” You asked, trying to act like you weren’t enjoying this.

“I’m supposed to be your boyfriend, aren’t I?”

“This just seems like a lot.”

“This is nothing,” he said.

He kissed your forehead and ruffled your hair. You hated him for taking on the role of your love interest with such ease. For you it was like putting a cat in a sweater.

“Relax,” he said, dropping his arms. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

You stared out into the street, over his shoulder. Your eyes followed a crowded bus as it puttered by. Anything to not look directly at Zeke. His whole person was overwhelming. You had seen him on the screen a handful of times and found him to be unremarkable, but seeing him in person was, again, a lot.

“Wish it was over now,” you muttered, finally stepping away from him. You immediately missed the warmth radiating from his body.

“We can make it fun. I promise.”

“Doubt it. Like don’t take it personally, but yeah. No.”

He grinned and tossed his cigarette out into the street, nearly missing a meter maid.

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“You’re an actor. Of course I don’t trust you.”

“Oh, come on.”

He opened the door to the restaurant. The smell of garlic and basil wafted into your nose.

“After you,” he said.

The restaurant was small. The walls were paneled with Pepto Bismol pink painted wood and decorated with aging photos of what appeared to be a sizable Italian family. Vases of wildflowers were scattered about. It was a level of hominess and familiarity that left you a little unnerved.

“I hate it here,” you whispered.

Zeke lightly elbowed you. “We haven’t even sat down yet.”

“Sometimes you just kn—”

“Wheredyawannasit?” a lackadaisical host asked.

“What?”

“By a window,” Zeke said coolly.

You hated how easily he navigated social situations. Granted he was an actor; it was basically in the job description.

“A window, huh?” you said, cocking an eyebrow.

The bastard winked at you.

You both took a seat. The table was covered with a powder blue tablecloth and a pane of glass, and it was right by a large window. You felt on display. A waiter traipsed by and wordlessly dropped menus on the table. Everything felt unnatural.

“I hate how easy this is for you,” you said, opening a menu.

“That’s only because I’m at least making an attempt to have a decent time.”

“You don’t find this humiliating?”

“Why would this be humiliating?” he asked. “We’re having lunch.”

Why? Because it made you feel vulnerable, like you were tearing open a wound. You were sick of putting yourself out there. So many years you spent with a smile plastered on your face, eager to please, and for what?

“Because I’m over this shit, okay? I’m sick of appeasing people.”

“You’re in the wrong business then.”

The waiter came by and placed two glasses of water on the table.

“You think I don’t know that?” you groaned. “I just wanna write. That’s all.”

“What’s stopping you from doing that?”

“My reputation. Misogyny. Capitalism. That time I accidentally stepped on a service dog at a premiere,” you exasperated.

He laughed. “You’re too hung up on the past.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Don’t think about it then. That’s what I do.”

“You say that like it’s so fuckin’ easy,” you hissed.

The waiter returned and took your orders. You were surprised and mildly disturbed to see that Zeke only ordered a cappuccino and some amaretto. He noticed the face you made and shrugged. You found yourself intrigued and repulsed by him. He managed to be disarming and utterly intimidating at the same time. It was disorienting.

“So why did you have your little tantrum?”

“Which one?” you scoffed.

“The one that made a very drunk Floch call me at two in the morning, begging me to make you look ‘normal.’”

Floch’s fascination with you coming off as normal amused you to no end.

“Oh, right… Uh, like, I was just over it. Like doing all that dumb shit. Smiling even though I wanna die. Wearing uncomfortable clothes to uncomfortable events. Being friends with people I despise, like those fuckin’ girls I used to hang out with. Not being taken seriously unless I co-wrote with someone else. I don’t know.”

“It got old.”

“Yeah. I used to be fine with it, going with the flow or whatever. But recently, I don’t know. I can’t be bothered. Like I straight up do not care. I spent way too much time giving a shit about what people thought about me. I’m done with that.”

You found yourself clenching your fists and took a deep breath to dull your rage.

“Fair enough,” he said nervously.

Your voice softened, hoping to put him at ease if only a little.

“I’m not really sure where it leaves me but… Fuck it. I’m past the point of caring,” you said before quickly shoving a piece of bread in your mouth.

The rest of the lunch was awkward and unremarkable. You hated how together Zeke’s life was. He was working on a short film inspired by his salad days filming skate videos. He played in a celebrity baseball tournament for charity. He planned on spending a few months in Aotearoa because he hated wintering in California. And he footed the bill even though you wanted to go halfsies.

“Alright. Well, this was weird. I’ll see you around I guess.”

You started to walk off, but he grabbed your wrist. His calloused hands revealed his past in the minor leagues. You turned to look at him and immediately regretted your decision. He looked so dreamy. His eyes exuded kindness. You didn’t deserve it.

“When can I see you again?”

You glanced to the side and tried to concoct an answer.

“I don’t know. Have your guy call Floch and they can set something up.”

“I—I’d rather us do the planning.”

“Why?”

This was a business transaction; there was no reason to make it personal.

“I want to get to know you without that guy up our asses.”

Zeke pointed out a paparazzo in an inconspicuous silver Tesla. He hauled ass down the street once he realized that Zeke spotted him.

He continued. “If you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

It was strange to see him so bashful. You desperately tried to recall the night you apparently blew him off, but that part of your life was a blur. A haze of cigarette smoke, maxed out credit cards, and ketamine. Too many nights spent flanked by socialites with fake voices and wannabe Kerouacs. That period of your life was one long night. A party you desperately wanted to leave. Something as angelic as him would have stood out amongst the filth and depravity you waded through. You would have followed him out of all that muck.

“I’ll think about it. DM me on Insta or something.”

You went to give him a hug goodbye, but he brushed you off.

“Guy’s gone. You don’t have to pretend anymore,” he said.

A sad, little smile had laid claim to his face.

“Oh, right. Anyway, I'll see ya.”

You turned away as he quietly said goodbye. You hated yourself for your vague cruelness, but this was humiliating. Here was this great guy who was willing to put his career on the line and be seen with you, and yet you were a total downer.

But you weren’t surprised. This was your modus operandi: torching bridges while they’re being built, you standing alone on the smoldering beams.

You were incredibly thankful for the “therapeutic, nature walk.” The morning was calm. The sun drifted through the window, painting your walls with a creamy orange. You sipped coffee, scrolled through your emails, and slowly prepared yourself for your jaunt in the woods. Floch picked you up at eight o’clock in the morning. The drive up was peaceful. You kept the window down and relished in the needley wind pricking your skin.

“He only ordered espresso and fucking booze?” Floch asked, helping you up a particularly steep hill.

“It was a cappuccino. But yeah. Not like I did much better though. I just slyly ate bread, didn’t even bother touching the tortellini I ordered.”

Once you crested the hill you were greeted by a sea of ponderosa pines. Nature had a way of calming your soul, quelling the disdain that seemed to permeate your being. You fantasized about leaving the city and losing yourself in the woods. The further you were removed from the industry the better you’d feel. Maybe you wouldn’t be so neurotic.

“Why?!” He exclaimed.

“I hate eating in public. Let alone in front of someone I don’t know and a guy with a camera. I did grab a bánh mì after.”

Floch sighed.

“I guess that makes sense, but it’s still fucking ridiculous. Think about the food waste.”

You rubbed your temples and took a deep breath. You weren’t in the mood for such a conversation. You were aware of how odd your behavior was and didn’t need to be reminded of its environmental ramifications.

“Are you going to see him again?” he asked, taking a seat on a stump.

“He mentioned wanting to meet up again but on our, like, own accord.”

“Oh, so fuck me then?”

“Exactly,” you laughed.

He rolled his eyes. “What’s the plan?”

You plopped down on the ground next to Floch.

“No idea. But probably something stupid and pretentious. He hasn’t reached out to me yet though. Maybe I scared him off.”

Floch flicked your temple with his thumb and middle finger.

“Stop overthinking it. Call him right now and make plans.”

You stuck your tongue out like a child. “Gross. I’ll just text him… Wait, do you have his number? I didn’t ask for it.”

“I thought you wanted to do this on your own accord,” he said, pulling out his phone.

“I’m adding a teeny addendum to that,” you snickered.

Getting a hold of Zeke ended up being more of a struggle than you anticipated. His voicemail was full and your texts were never read. The lack of response made a pit open up in your stomach. You tried to fill it with coffee and the occasional blunt, but nothing sufficed. He had no reason to get back to you anyway. You weren’t particularly friendly during your lunch.

That was always the worst part. The hangover from your behavior. You used to think nothing beat the shame of waking up after a night of binge drinking, cursed with only a vague recollection of the awful things you did. But when waking up stone cold sober there was nothing to hide behind.

It was a great relief when Zeke finally called you back. He apologized for being so busy, but his words felt rather hollow. You didn’t think he was lying, but you questioned how genuine he was being.

“Meet me at the skate park on 16th and Sequoia. I have some filming to take care of and I’m trying to work with natural lighting,” he rambled.

“Shots’ll look good,” you said, trying to sound knowledgeable even though you didn’t know much about filming.

You agreed to meet him on the grounds that he let you pay for coffee.

Once at the park you were greeted by a sea of teenagers and their cacophonous choir of expletives and shrieks. You waded through them until you found Zeke sitting on the floor, fiddling with a Sony Handycam.

“You seem a little old to be hangin’ with this crowd.”

“The whole point is that they’re young. Tell me, does that kid read late-2000s, maybe early 2010s?” he asked before standing up and grabbing a worn out board.

You stared at a boy dressed like an extra from an early Odd Future video.

“I guess. Please tell me you’re not gonna skate.”

“Of course I am! That’s how it’s done.”

“So I’m just supposed to sit here and watch you do this?”

He sighed. “When you say it like that, it’s going to sound boring. It’ll just be an hour and then we can get coffee.”

A kid interrupted your conversation by kicking Zeke in the shin.

The kid barked, “Is Eren coming?”

Zeke shook his head to the kid’s disappointment. They dejectedly skated off without a word.

“You should have hit me up later. I could be at home right now and diving into the depths of Vine compilations.”

You pantomimed diving into a pool much to Zeke’s amusement.

Zeke skated off and exchanged pleasantries with the pack of hormone-addled youths. One of the girls set off and he trailed after her. It was a rather boring experience as a spectator. Zeke skated alongside her, crouching on his board, camera angled at her feet.

“Impressive,” you called out as Zeke reviewed what he filmed.

“Please, that was nothing.”

“Do something cool then. Do a trick.”

What happened next should have been expected, but somehow ended up being a complete surprise. Zeke attempted what you later learned was a heel flip. All you saw was him skate past you and then suddenly he was a mess of tangled limbs on the concrete, his board rolling off into a bowl. You ran to him while the kids keeled over with laughter.

“Shit,” was all he could say.

“Are you okay?” you asked, knowing damn well he was not okay.

“Help,” he coughed.

He looked so pathetic and small on the ground. You reached out and hoisted him up. Now that he was upright the extent of his injuries seemed to be reduced to a few raspberries and torn jeans.

“I keep bandaids in my kånken,” he winced.

“Knew you’d have one of these fuckin’ stupid ass, expensive backpacks,” you muttered.

You tended to his scraped knee, borrowing some bactine wipes one of the teens had on her person. Dabbing Zeke’s knee you looked up and found him gazing down at you, eyes teeming with longing. You instinctively glared at him like an asocial idiot.

“You look like you're proposing to him,” a boy slurred.

It didn’t take much to clean Zeke up, but his ripped jeans revealed his hubris. The walk to the coffee shop was spent with him slightly limping with his arm around your shoulder. You wondered if there were any paparazzi around to document this sad sight. Though maybe Floch decided he had better things to spend money on. You were left with only a wisp of paranoia.

“This is what I get for trying to show off,” he said, easing himself down onto a bench.

You took a seat next to him and couldn’t help but laugh as he iced his knee with his cold brew.

“Is that actually helping?”

“Kind of?” he replied with an eyebrow raised.

“Well, like you said, it’s what you get for showing off.”

“Come on. I’m injured. You should be nice to me.”

“I don’t have to be anything to you.”

He gulped and quickly let out a nervous laugh. You took a long sip of your drink and shifted your eyes to the side, staring into a rose bush.

Zeke sighed. “I hate to use an idiom, but you really are a tough nut to crack.”

You shut your eyes tight and fought the urge to spill all your secrets. Something about Zeke lent himself to it. Or rather you were looking for the opportunity to let it all out and projecting it on him out of sheer convenience.

He continued. “I’m not saying you need to bare your soul to me, but I’d like to get to know you. I want to get to know you.”

“I’m not worth knowing,” you droned.

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“I can and I am. Like not to be super fuckin’ dramatic, but getting to know people, letting them in and shit… It’s not worth the hassle.”

“Hassle? I’m not asking you to do hard labor,” he laughed.

“You don’t get it. I can’t just ‘get to know people.’ I—if you get to know me it’s like I’ve torn myself open.”

“What if I told you I just wanted to know your favorite color?”

You gritted your teeth and seethed, “You’re not getting it.”

He turned to look at you. You cut your staring contest with the rose bush short and gathered as much false bravado as you could. Gazing into his grey eyes would weaken you. You knew it for a fact and had to be prepared.

“You’re not really giving me a chance to.”

Damn. It. There was no preparing yourself for his patience, his kindness, even if it seemed a little phony. You held his gaze for a while before finally breaking the silence.

“It's like a piece of me is being ripped away… when I let people in... It feels like a weight. Or a void. Or both? I don’t know. I try to talk about it, but I fuck it up every time. 99% of the time I say something cruel or like dumb.” You took a deep breath. “And it’s… it’s not like I can actually be there for people, if I were to let them know me or whatever the fuck. Like what do I do? I gore myself for these people and leave them with… what? Viscera and trash?” Your thoughts were growing hazy, your anger obscuring your thoughts. “I don’t know. I’m a disease. My heart is a worn down mountain. I’m nothing more than the smoking, smoldering mine under that fucked up town that inspired, uh, Silent Hill.”

Saliva pooled in your mouth. Your inability to explain yourself was making you ill.

“Your heart is an eroded landform. And also, somehow, Centralia, Pennsylvania.”

“That is so reductive.”

“Listen. You’re not making much sense, but I think I want to underst—”

“I don’t need to fucking make sense! I… I’m just so sick of feeling like shit and not knowing what to do. Do I keep shutting myself off? Acting like a fuckin’ demon hermit that shrivels in the spotlight? Spitting and hissing at my contemporaries? Or do I go back to painting my face like a whore clown? Do I go back to making people feel vaguely at ease?! Or do I keep pushing against it?! How many hands are gonna crawl up my skirt if I go back to smiling and acting like I’m proud of the fuckin’ Kate Hudson vehicle I co-wrote with five other people? I can’t do that shit anymore. I’d rather throw myself down a flight of stairs.”

“Okay, Zelda Fitzgerald, take a breather,” he consoled or rather attempted to.

His arm hovered around your shoulder before finally patting it with his weighty hand. A small but welcome gesture. You snorted and wiped away the tears that had been collecting in the corners of your eyes.

You knew nothing you spewed made sense, but it needed to be said. It had been festering inside you. You still felt terrible, but lighter. You didn’t feel like Atlas carrying a bounty of self loathing and misanthropy on your back. For once you exhaled and there was relief.

“It’s green,” you said quietly.

“What?”

You spoke up. “My favorite color. It’s green.”

“You seem in good spirits,” Floch noted. “It’s weird. Are you sure you’re not ill?”

“What?! No! I just, I don’t know, I feel decent.”

“Are you on drugs?”

“Ugh. No. I legit feel okay… esque.”

The park was crowded for a Wednesday morning. Usually your weekly walk around the lake was a calmer affair. Granted the park was dotted with everchanging oak trees and it was fall.

“All because of some guy. Wow.”

“That’s not why. But you know, he is pretty fun.”

“Uh huh.”

“Though maybe I only think that because he’s hot.”

You happened to glance at Floch and the cat-like grin on his face. Being embarrassed and saying “just kidding” crossed your mind, but it was true. You did find Zeke amusing and attractive.

“You like hiiiiiiiim,” he teased.

“I said he’s hot. That’s hardly… Shit. Fuck. Okay, maybe I like him a little.”

“This is great! Now all you have to do is make him fall in love with you and hopefully have that convince every stupid fucking studio to suck your figurative dick,” he cheered.

You frowned. You had momentarily forgotten about the transactional nature of this relationship. Floch immediately caught onto your disappointment.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t pursue this seriously. You could probably be his girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever.”

You froze, wide-eyed, letting a rogue jogger bump into you.

“I—I never said anything about that.”

“Your reaction just did the talking for you,” Floch said, punctuating his sentence with a smirk.

“It’s not like I stand a chance anyway.”

You didn’t consider yourself desirable, let alone Zeke’s type even though you honestly had no idea what that was. Your self confidence had been in shambles for months; anything was possible.

“Hm. Now that I think about it I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him dating anyone.”

“Hopefully his type is whatever all this is,” you sighed, looking down at your body.

“People seem to think you two are cute together.”

“Great, but what do the people that matter think?”

“Well… They kind of think a little less of him now that you two are dating.”

“Nothing ‘bout me though?” you asked flatly.

“Nada.”

“I mean that’s not too bad.”

“When are you seeing him next?”

“He invited me to some party at some guy’s house. All I know is there’s a pool and Zeke intends on pushing his brother into it.”

“Oh wow, sounds super romantic,” he snarked.

You stomped on a crunchy leaf. The party could end up being romantic if you tried. So far you made little attempt to impress Zeke and he was still drawn to you. If you actually did something, who knows what you could accomplish?

That night the driver Zeke hired to pick you up plucked you from your home and dropped you off at a glass windowed monstrosity nestled in the hills. It was owned by the editor of a marginally popular skateboarding magazine.

You were irked that he decided to go to the party early and not extend the invite. You hated shit like this and even more when you were forced to do it on your own.

You exhaled and your fist hovered parallel to the door.

“Just knock, dumb ass.”

Before you could the door was ripped open by a tanned, green-eyed man. He was wearing a red cut-off shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and checkerboard slip-ons.

“You’re not the weed guy,” he said, frowning.

“No. I mean, I have weed. Bu—but I’m not, like, the designated weed guy. I wish I was though. Like that’d be dope.”

He looked you up and down, and hollered over his shoulder, “False alarm.”

You heard a choir of groans and sighs from behind him.

“Uh… so, can I come in? Zeke invited me.”

You introduced yourself and quickly found out the man you were talking to was Eren, a professional skater and Zeke’s brother. He slid out of the way, granting you permission to enter. You stepped inside and stared up at the enormous foyer. A twinkling chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminating the vacuous space. It was sterile and everything blindingly white.

He led you into a room filled to the brim with people. You found yourself wanting to cling to him even though he was as much a stranger as everyone else.

“So yeah, I don’t know where Zeke is but I’m sure you’ll find him. Let me know if you don’t!”

And with that Eren disappeared. You were happy to see no one looked particularly glamorous, but it did little to quell your nerves. A Yaeji song seemed to blare from every corner of the house; it was inescapable. Doing this shit sober was never your forte.

“Hey! Over here,” you heard a familiar voice emanate from the crowd.

You pushed through and found Zeke surrounded by actors. You plastered on a sickly grin and hoped no one could discern your disdain.

“Hiiiiiiiiiiii,” you sneered unintentionally.

Zeke slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you next to him. You wanted to puke.

“I’m glad you found your way here.”

“You had a dude come pick me up which, you know, made it pretty easy.”

He smiled at you like he didn’t even catch your snarkiness.

A guy you didn’t recognize asked, “You’ve always had a bit of a mouth on you, haven’t you?”

“I was literally born with one.”

“Do you know how to shut it?” he followed up.

“Nah, but I know how to shut yours.”

Zeke dug his fingers into your waist, his face still smiling. You held your tongue while the guy continued being an absolute asshole. This was the kind of nonsense you couldn’t stand. You zoned out, eyes looking outside at the pool. The voices around you melded into a singular drone you tuned out.

“Hey,” he said, snapping his fingers in front of your face. “I asked you a question.”

You looked at Zeke for reassurance and saw that his attention was elsewhere. Your stomach dropped. He may have been standing next to you but he felt miles away.

“What?” you finally replied.

“Did you really fuck Magath to get a writing credit for that Jennifer Aniston movie?”

Your skin felt like it was on fire. Holding back wasn’t an option.

“It was a Kate Hudson movie. Why the actual fuck would I sleep with someone to say I helped write a Kate Hudson movie? Are you stupid or just trying to start shit? Because if your only way to make me feel bad is by implying I slept with someone to further my mediocre career, you need to try again because that ain’t gonna cut it.”

You freed yourself from Zeke’s grasp and got in the guy’s face, towering over him. He gave you nothing but stunned silence.

“Let’s get some air,” Zeke said a little too cheerfully.

Once outside you held your head in your hands, fighting the urge to scream. You should have acted unbothered, but weren’t good at faking. You kicked the air in frustration.

“What was that back there?”

“What was what?” you spat out. “You mean the dumb fuck inside?”

You dug through your bag for a joint and a lighter, sighing in relief when you found them with ease. 

“You should have had my back,” you said, using the joint to point at Zeke.

“I didn’t even know what was going on,” he lied.

“You were right fucking there! You were literally right beside me,” you said, lighting the joint.

“What was I supposed to say?”

You took a hit and exhaled.

“Fucking anything,” you suggested. “Could’ve changed the subject. Could’ve said, like, ‘Go fuck yourself. Don’t talk to my fake girlfriend that way.’”

“Once that guy gets going there’s no stopping him.”

“You noncommittal piece of shit. You fucking Judas.”

“Don’t let something that inconsequential ruin your night.”

“Maybe it was inconsequential to you...” you said, taking another hit.

Zeke reached out for the joint, but you didn’t hand it over. He didn’t deserve it.

“But it wasn’t to me. Do you know how often I deal with shit like that?”

“You should be used to it then.”

You were rendered silent. You couldn’t even verbalize your rage. Words were incapable of capturing the essence of it.

So you opted to push him in the pool.

You stormed off back inside, lit joint hanging out of your mouth. The house felt like a maze, you could’ve sworn it got bigger, vaster. Everyone’s faces blended together. You felt like you were gradually traveling back in time, like you’d been here too many times before. This wasn’t the person you wanted to be. This wasn’t any better than the old you.

You glanced over your shoulder and saw a couple people tending to a soaking wet Zeke, briefly making eye contact with him. Instead of glaring at you he smiled. You were happy he didn’t seem to hate you but it was infuriating all the same. He never dropped his facade. For the longest time you admired this ability but now it was a glaring flaw.

The relief that washed over you once outside was immense. You found yourself sitting on the curb, finishing off your joint. It was a clear night, colder than anticipated. The stars made your discomfort worth it even if most were drowned out by civilization.

“You’re lucky I didn’t have anything important in my pockets.”

Zeke stood behind you, his wet clothes clinging to his body. He was shivering.

“Bummer. I was kinda hoping I’d fuck up your phone at least.”

He laughed and sat next to you.

“I realize I could have probably been a bit more sympathetic.”

“I didn’t want sympathy. I wanted you to have my back. Toss out a witty retort that defended my honor or some shit,” you replied dejectedly.

“You held your own though.”

“That’s not the point,” you called out in exasperation. “I know I can hold my own. But… fuck, I don’t know. I needed you!”

He cleared his throat, his nerves revealing themselves.

“I’m sorry. Next time I’ll—”

“Ugh. Please. I’d rather fucking die than have a next time. I cannot keep doing this shit.”

You looked at Zeke and his pathetic form. You took off your jacket and put it over his shoulders.

“It gets so exhausting. Defending myself. It’s almost as bad as pretending everything is fine, like nothing is wrong,” you said sadly. “I feel like I’m talking in circles sometimes. Don’t mind me.”

“I’m going to mind. You pushed me into a pool about it.”

You groaned and stared up at the night sky.

“All of my self worth used to come from how fuckable I was because I thought that’s all I had to offer. I was made to believe that was the extent of my purpose. The writing was auxiliary. A nice surprise. And I cultivated that notion because I bought into it.” You felt yourself getting frustrated. “Do you know what that’s like?”

“No. I never had to concern myself with something like that.” He paused. “I suspect that was a rhetorical question.”

“It was, but I appreciate you being honest.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m too afraid to,” he laughed.

You rolled your eyes. “I am not that scary.”

“That guy nearly shit his pants when you got in his face.”

“Oh my god! I hardly got in his face.”

“Just own up to it. You’re a little intense. It’s par for the course in this industry. Nothing wrong with it.”

“Fuck. Fine. Whatever. I’m a little intense.”

Both of you fell silent. You scooched closer to Zeke, hoping maybe your body would warm him. You wanted to make up for acting so childish.

“I could never be like that,” he muttered. “Though I'd like to be.”

“There’s nothing stopping you.”

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“It’s just not my nature.”

“Ah yes, I forgot you’re such a gentle boy,” you teased.

He grinned. “Exactly. I’m too delicate.”

You hated how cute he was when he smiled; you wanted to kiss his crow’s feet.

“Do you need a ride?” he asked smoothly.

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

Zeke drove you home in his black Polestar 2. He cranked the heater as he sped down the freeway, still shivering. He tried to keep the conversation light by asking if you had been working on anything.

“I can’t even remember the last time I wrote.”

The realization made you nauseous.

“Why haven’t you been writing?”

You hung your head and struggled to articulate your vague, creative block. “I don’t know. Like why bother if no one wants to work with me?”

“Don’t you enjoy doing it?”

“Yeah…”

“There’s a reason to bother.”

“... True. It’s not like I need permission from anyone.”

“Just yourself.”

He had a point. Whether you wrote or not was one of the things in your life you controlled. There was no reason to hold your ideas hostage. You had every right to free them and let them wander the page.

When you finally reached your home you hesitated to get out of the car. For whatever reason you wanted to remain around the damp man beside you. The hearty yawn he let out though helped you make your exit.

You took your seatbelt off and turned to face him.

“Thanks for the ride. I would not have been as kind to you had you pushed me into a… pool.”

“I know,” he said wistfully.

“Well, uh, get home safe.”

“I’ll try. I hope you feel better.”

“Me too,” you sighed, stepping out of his car.

“When can I see you next?” he asked dreamily, his rough hand latching onto your wrist.

“I don’t know.”

“Ballpark it for me.”

His grey eyes were trained on your lips.

“Soon I guess. Go home, sleepyhead. You look damp and miserable.”

Zeke bid you a weak farewell before driving off. You couldn’t figure out why he put up with you. Why did he want to see you again? You, who had dented his reputation with such ease. All you seemed to do was make his life worse. And yet he kept coming back.

Floch wanted to wring your neck for the pool incident. Someone managed to film it and the footage went viral. The narrative surrounding it all was that Zeke tried to dump you and you simply could not cope with it. You were painted as a hysterical, scorned lover that couldn’t take a hint.

You had to laugh. You wished it was that simple

“You ruined everything. It’s fine. I don’t care, but I need you to know that,” he said over the phone.

Hanging up on him crossed your mind but you wanted to be mature.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I fucked it all up. But it can’t get any worse.”

“Don’t! It absolutely can!”

“Fine. I don’t think I can feel any worse. I think I had a breakthrough honestly.”

“Oh, thank goodness! Will this breakthrough translate into people trusting you?”

“Nah. But it did make me realize, like, I don’t have to do studio shit. I can just write whatever I want. Fuck my reputation. I mean, I know I won’t make money, but I’ll figure that out later.”

“As your friend, I’m happy for you. That’s fabulous. But as your agent, are you kidding me?!”

“Nope!”

Floch groaned and muttered a few indecipherable expletives before saying, “If this is what you really want, I’m up for it.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. I think you got the talent to pull it off. I would have kicked your sorry ass to the curb if I thought otherwise.”

“Wasn’t expecting you to be so accepting,” you demurred.

“Listen I may be a fucking bastard, but I believe in you. I always have. If you don’t fuck around and get your head out of your ass, you can do it. I know you can.”

Elation couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt. All the unnecessary pressure you put on yourself dissipated. You were free, lighter than a feather. You looked out your window at the soft, warm light of the moon. The oak trees’ autumnal leaves ebbed as a cold wind swept through them.

“Th—that really means a lot to me.”

“Alright, alright. I gotta go. Louisa and Reed are running around like wild animals when they were supposed to be in bed at 9pm which was… Three fucking hours ago?!”

He hung up before you could say anything.

“Dude has no phone etiquette.”

Just as you went to set your phone down you received another call. This time from Zeke. You couldn’t imagine why he’d be calling you at such an hour.

“What’s good?” you asked.

“Can I come over?!” he bellowed through the phone.

“You don’t need to yell.”

“I’m sorry. Can I come over?” he slurred.

“It’s a little late. I was gonna crawl into bed.”

“Ah, fuck. Well, I’m already here.”

You peeked out your window and saw him swaying in front of your home. He was drunk, practically wasted.

“Yeah, I see you. Uh… Hold on,” you said before hanging up.

You threw on a robe and greeted him at the door.

“How did you get here?”

“Whoa, whoa. One question at a time,” he leaned against the door frame, “cutie pie.”

“... How did you get he—”

“Caaaaab. Old school. Called ‘em up. That’s how I’m doin’ shit now. New year, new me.”

“It’s… It’s November.”

“I’m pregaming. Can I come in? You owe me.”

“Yeah, c’mon in.”

You let him inside, stifling a laugh as he stumbled through the door.

“I meant to do that.”

“Sure you did,” you replied, patting him on the back.

You led him into your living room and gestured for him to sit on your couch. He happily collapsed face down on it. You winced and decided to get him a glass of water. When you returned he was sitting up, his forehead a little pink from where it made contact with the cushion.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asked, now holding his head in his hands.

“Yeah, dude.”

“You hurt my feelings.”

“Is this about the pool? See, I knew you were fuckin’ mad at me!”

“What? No. I don’t care about that.” He stared up at you over his glasses. “That party. The one where I tried to introduce myself. And you blew me off.”

You held the glass of water out to him. He snatched it out of your hands like a little gremlin.

“I don’t even remember that. Are you sure it was even me?”

He took a sip of water. “You’re very hard to forget for better or worse.”

“Oh.”

“Why do you think I agreed to do any of this shit anyway? My agent’s been on me about dive bombing my career, which that’s him being a drama queen, but that’s not my point. I, fuck… I like you so much. And I want you to like me too, but I get that you don’t and that’s fine. I don’t like me either. I’m fake.”

“You’re not fake,” you said, taking a seat next to him. “You’re not like… the most genuine person, but I wouldn’t say you’re fake.”

“No. Don’t. I’m a phony.”

“Oh my god.”

He groaned and took another sip of water.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he whined. “I just… I hate that I can’t find it in me to be like you. You refuse to take anyone’s shit and have no problem sticking up for yourself. A director literally told me to ‘get the stick out of my himbo ass’ when I said he should treat his cinematographer with more respect. And you know what I did? I fucking did it… Not… No, I didn’t pull a stick out of my ass.”

“I figured,” you snorted.

“But I smiled and said, ‘I guess it’s not my place.’ Not a hint of sarcasm. I rolled over, showed that man my belly, and begged him to slice me open as a way to repent.”

“Belly? What belly? You mean your abs? Come the fuck on. Belly? Ha.”

Zeke lifted his shirt and examined his abdominal muscles. He shrugged.

“You know what I mean,” he said, pathetically leaning over and resting his head on your shoulder. “You wouldn’t have done that. You would’ve been said, ‘I’m about to pull the stick out of my ass and beat you with it if you don’t start treating them better.’”

“You’re not allowed to do that good of an impersonation of me. Not this early in our fake relationship.”

It was hard to hear Zeke being so drunk and vulnerable. You didn’t know how to handle him. Jokes and asides seemed to be the only thing flowing from your mouth.

“You are on my mind a lot,” he lamented.

“Trust me. I’m not exactly someone to admire.”

“Stop. You don’t get to decide that for me. You don’t get to decide if you’re worth knowing, or worth admiring, or worth loving. I get to. Not you.”

“Okay,” you mumbled.

Zeke exhaled deeply.

“I’m not saying I’m in love with you. I’m not that delusional, but… Fuck, just let me like you? Let me get to know you? I need to be close to you.”

His drunk ramblings were bathed in anguish with a tinge of hilarity. You felt bad for him, but it was an unexpected surprise for him to be so forthcoming about his pining. Never before had you considered anyone aching over your perceived indifference. You had to admit it boosted your ego a little bit.

“You’re practically sitting on me right now so we’ve crossed that bridge.”

He sniffled.

You kept speaking. “I’m gonna be real. I’m not exactly used to, uh, hearing shit like this so I don’t know how to—”

Zeke grabbed ahold of your face and kissed you; it was ripe with desperation. You momentarily reciprocated the kiss, leaning into him and his embrace. He tasted like tequila and cigarettes. His teeth clinking against yours pulled you out of the moment, letting you assess the situation. You pulled away and cleared your throat.

He was wasted and, as much as you wanted to kiss him, he was in no position to be doing anything of the sort.

“You’re drunk, Zeke.”

“I know. I should go. Do—don’t tell me about anything I said tonight.”

He tried to stand up before quickly resuming his previous position.

“Stay the night. We can get you home in the morning, alright?��

“Yeah?” he asked, taking off his glasses and rubbing his red rimmed eyes.

You nodded. “You can even sleep in my bed as long as you don’t act like a fuckin’ weird ass.”

“I assure you I will not be a fucking weird ass. I’m very anti-weird ass.”

“Good.”

“I’d—I would even say I’m bigoted towards them,” he slurred as you helped him up. “Weird asses have too many rights. We let them out in the world? They’re just skittering around, weird assing it up?!”

You started to crack up. He sounded so serious and intense. It was like he got possessed by Daniel Day-Lewis for a brief moment.

“Hush. Don’t get yourself all riled up.”

A faint smile crossed his face. It was markedly different from the ones he had worn before.

You couldn’t help but ask, “Are you smiling because you’re happy or are you compulsively masking your feelings again?”

“It’s a real one,” he said, his words all melting into one.

Regardless of their decipherability, you liked having verbal proof that Zeke genuinely smiled in front of you. The second you got him into bed he passed out. You crawled in on the other side, careful to keep some distance between your bodies.

When you woke up the next morning you found him cuddled up next to you. You slept on your back so you wouldn’t have felt compelled to curl up next to Zeke. But somehow in the middle of the night he managed to embrace you. His head rested on your shoulder and his arm was lazily draped across your chest.

You ruffled his hair and gently sang his name. He groaned and held you closer.

“Hungover?” you asked.

He yawned. “Just a tad.”

He rolled over onto his back and slowly sat up, his shoulders slumping forward. His eyes were barely open, protecting themselves from the harsh, autumn sun.

“Is your career really tanking because you traipse around with my dumb ass?”

His shoulders heaved as he gruffly chuckled.

“If I were a hyperbolic man, I’d say yes. Alas, I am but a normal guy so no.” He was interrupted by a hearty yawn. “People give me shit about it, but that’s hardly an issue. And, hypothetically, if chasing after you did take a massive shit on my career, I don’t think I’d care. Or I’d at least try really hard not to.”

“I guess that’s… admirable.”

“You know what would be admirable?” he asked flirtatiously.

He glanced over at you, clearly admiring your sprawled out limbs as the sunlight danced along your skin.

“What?”

Zeke’s face fell into despair. He froze and swallowed hard. His pallor took on a sickly greenish hue.

“I was going to say you should kiss me, but I don’t feel good at the moment.”

“Fuck. That’s so sexy,” you teased.

He gave you a wink before softly moaning as waves of nausea overtook him

“So, uh, now that you’re not wasted…”

Your words struggled to form sentences. You wanted to make sure Zeke meant the shit he said last night.

“Can I… Am I still worth loving? Wait! Or knowing or whatever you said? I can’t remember.”

You remembered everything. There was no use in pretending.

Zeke was quiet for a moment before a sly grin crept across his face. He fixed his gaze on you and simply said, “Absolutely.”

“Really?” you croaked out.

“Yes. I have one request though. I don’t want our agents involved or any industry people. We do this on our terms,” he orated.

You nodded and poked his cheek much to his chagrin. “Got it. We do it for us.”

He laid back down next to you, resting his head on your chest.

 “Exactly. For us,” he replied softly.

[modern-day-bard]

Worth The Feeling

Note: this is a completed project but I’ve had major problems posting on tumblr from my laptop! I’m not sure why. If anyone who sees this is interested, I also posted the fic on Archive Of Our Own 🫶🏻

Content Warning: 18+

This story includes explicit smut, intimidation, and an age gap relationship (MC is 26, Javi is in his 40s). Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 2:

Now, I've made some blunders before. Mostly calling talent by the wrong name, which is a big mistake when dealing with big personalities. But I've tripped a few times, spilled a few things, and I even broke a glass in the middle of a take.

Yet somehow, none of those things compare to this.

Treating the lead as if he was a PA? Telling him he needs to get a walkie ?

The thought makes me sprint even harder toward the sound stage. Once inside, I scan the area as quickly as I can. There's at least a hundred people in here now and the more I push past, the more I realize they are turning to look at me disapprovingly. I really should find a new shirt first, but it can wait.

"Lana!" I shout when I catch a glimpse of one of her classic colorful scarves. I can see the bright fabric tied in a bow on top of her curly head of hair, but she doesn't turn around.

"LANA!" This time several people, Lana included, turn around.

"Hey!" She runs up to me and sweeps me in a hug, before pulling back with an uncharacteristically miserable expression. "Why are you all wet? Ava, I can see your bra." She pokes my visible white strap.

I swat her away. "Just wait. That is the least of my worries."

I explain the situation, visibly cringing as I await her reaction.

In typical Lana fashion, she bursts into musical hysterics. She covers her mouth when she notices how pained my expression is.

"Lana, I am this close to panicking. You don't think he'll complain, do you?"

"No, no he won't complain. You said he was relatively cool about it, right?"

"Yeah, I mean, he didn't even correct me."

"Exactly. You know if it was one of the Marvel guys from our last picture, you might be in trouble. But from the sounds of it, he probably won't even remember it by tomorrow."

"Yeah..." Why did that idea not make me feel any better?

Lana is snickering again. "You know I sent you the cast list like a month ago, right? How do you of all people not recognize Javi Gutierrez?"

I lower my voice. "You know I'm not an indie movie fanatic."

"I know. It's your fatal friendship flaw. But he was on a bunch of shows, too!"

"I haven't had time for TV with school! Movies are less commitment. Don't scold me in my time of need." I wack her arm.

"Fine, fine," She holds her hands up in defeat. "But seriously Ava, unless you want to continue to give us all a free show you should really get another shirt. I have to get these mics up and running, but go to wardrobe and find Barb."

She's right. The first scene is at 8:00am, and as a sound assistant, Lana has to be ready to mic up the actors as soon as they're out of hair and makeup. I still have to print out scripts for the first few scenes, and I'm really starting to hate the sticky feeling on my stomach.

"Okay, thank you!"

Lana winks at me as I turn and head for the wardrobe trailer on the far side of the lot. Barbra has been on Norwick Productions sets since movies were invented. That is actually the answer she will give a person if they ask how long she's been working. She's the grumpy, tough-love mom I never had. And since Lana is pretty much the only person I hung out with during hiatus, I missed Barb dearly.

Barb's expression pales as soon as she sees me.

"Ava, it's only day one for god's sake."

"Don't worry Barb, Lana already scolded me for you."

"I do like that girl. And I'm guessing you came by to catch up after break, and not simply because you need my help?" She raises a knowing brow.

"Obviously." I flash her a very over-dramatic smile.

"I should give you one of the ratty uniforms from the end of this film for that."

"But you won't, because you love me." I batted my lashes.

"Uh-huh." Barb sighs, disappearing into the depths of the trailer before coming back out with a clean white t-shirt. No fuss, no fake blood.

"You are my guardian angel." I say after swapping the shirts.

"Bring me real coffee tomorrow instead of this crafty crap and we can call it even." She says in a flat tone, and I know she's not kidding.

I give her a quick hug. "It's good to see you Barb."

That makes her chuckle slightly. "You too, kiddo."

I check my watch again. 7:30am. Barely enough time to print out the scripts. I bid Barb a quick goodbye and head to the closest copier.

After kicking it a few times, and uttering several curse words, I got the copier up and running and several copies of today's script printed. I try to skim today's scenes while walking back to the soundstage. I'm beginning to grow curious as to watch is actually happening in this movie. Since we usually shoot scenes out of order, these few pages aren't helping very much.

Back on the soundstage, I spot Lloyd, our director, and walk over to hand him today's pages.

"Ava, welcome back." Lloyd says in his usual artistic drawl. He takes one of the copies from me, flipping through as though looking for something specific, though I know he is barely even skimming the pages.

Part of me is holding my breath, wondering if Javi would have complained to Lloyd or a production manager at this point. I'm not sure when he would have time for that between hair and makeup, but in a world where my mishap today costs me my job, he would find the time.

But, Lloyd is deep in conversation with a cameraman and doesn't spare me another glance. I take that as a good sign, and slowly slink toward the far corner of the room. This way I can still have a good view of the stage without calling too much attention to myself. I can see Lana across the room micing up one of the actors in the scene. Some older gentleman who I heard was popular on a cowboy show that I've never seen. I recognize his face more than I did Javi's, which embarrasses me further, even though the fact is only known to me.

Then, as though the gods of shame were looking down and laughing at me, Javi walks into the large room. I quickly open the first scene's pages to see if I can figure out whom he is playing. That, and so I can take my mind off of how he looks even more attractive in costume. I steal a glance up from the pages and see Lana micing him up now. He's smiling warmly at her, and she chuckles at something he said. Lana tends to laugh at most things, but I can't help but wonder what words were being passed between them.

The two men step onto the CIA set together, both dressed in impeccably tailored suits, making light conversation. Now is my que to bring them their copy of the pages for a final once-over before we roll the cameras. I inhale deeply and set my shoulders back.

Don't be intimidated, Ava. You can't embarrass yourself any worse than you already have.

Well, I know that last part isn't true. But I repeat it to myself all the same.

I walk up to the men, handing them each a copy with a smile.

The older gentleman gives me a friendly nod as he takes the script. Javi gives me the same smile he gave Lana a few minutes prior. I'm turning to leave, and I'm surprised when he says, "Thank you, Ava."

I pause, half out of surprise that he remembered my name, and half over the hesitation of wondering if I should apologize for earlier. But his attention is already on the pages, and there are so many people around to hear me admit my mistakes. I decide against it.

- - -

After we shoot the first few takes, I think I'm starting to piece together what the film is about. In the way that it is not unlike most other spy films I've seen. Older Cowboy, whose real name is still evading me, has a small role as the experienced head of the CIA who brings on Javi's character, a real loose cannon, despite his reservations. There is something about a kidnapping of Javi's lover that makes him "too close to the case," but he lies about his involvement with the woman to make sure he can be the one to save her. I'm assuming that is when we will be in Italy. Spy movies love a good ol' car chase in Europe.

I'm not blown away by the originality of the script or anything, but I'm still engaged in the scene even on their tenth take. I realize that Javi is actually quite talented. I'm only ever engaged in a scene if the actors are talented. That, or if Lloyd is having a breakdown.

I spend the rest of the scene trying not to notice just how well tailored that suit is on Javi. I never leer at the talent, but I always appreciate a good-looking man in a suit. Plus, there is something different about him. He has a kindness to him that I haven't seen with other actors. We've been working with a lot of big names recently, so maybe I've just become disillusioned. Even still, I know some lesser actors who would've complained about my assumption early, even if they painted it as a joke. They would never want me to fully live it down. But not Javi. At least, not so far.

When they call for a break, I decided it would be best to fulfill some of my other duties on another part of the lot.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur. I try to stay away from the soundstage, knowing that they will be working with Javi for the next few hours. I check my watch for the umpteenth today, and I crack a smile when I realize we only have about an hour left. My last stop is Emma Madden's trailer, our leading lady. And then I finally get to drive home and sleep.

I hadn't met Emma before, but similar to Javi, she isn't in the same celebrity category as our last film, so she seems much friendlier. I got a call on my walkie letting me know there was an issue with her food, and with not much else to go off of, I figured I might be in for a celebrity meltdown. However, when I got here, she let me know that she is severely allergic to mustard, and was afraid to touch the sandwich that had been dropped off to her. Sure, maybe it was a little 'Hollywood' for her to have me come and throw it in the garbage for her, but she was pretty apologetic about it.

"Thank you so much, Anna." She says with her knees brought up to her chest, as if she was shielding her center from the turkey sandwich springing back up out of the trash. Her expression is worried and her tone is so sincere that I don't correct her. Not that I would have otherwise.

"Not a problem Ms. Madden." I dust off sesame seeds from my palms.

"Oh please, call me Emma." She smiled at me now, and I couldn't help but like her a little.

"I know a mustard allergy is like, totally random, but it's actually pretty bad. I have an epipen and everything." I know she must be at least thirty years old, but her inflection reminds me of a teenager.

"I'll let crafty know. They should have sent you a food preference and allergy sheet to fill out months ago, that's the studio's fault."

"Oh, they did! I completely forgot about that. I figured it was just if you were a picky eater."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"Well, no worries. I'll let them know now." I reach for the doorknob of the trailer.

"Thank you again!" Emma called out as I closed the door behind me.

As I'm finally able to drop off my walkie for the day, I run through all the ways that Emma's Mustard Mayhem could have cost the studio hundreds of thousands of dollars. How did they start production without having her sign a waiver? Why did no one double check that all the talent had sent in their allergy lists? If she were a higher profile celebrity, this could have been a huge issue. But as usual, these are the scenarios I keep to myself. And as I drive home, I try to run through only mustard scenarios, and ignore any that pop up with another actor in mind.

Series Masterlist

[babyfairy]

hello…life updates lol

i saw the little mermaid with my mom and my niece (we went on my mom’s birthday 💌) and i loved it??!? i think halle was the perfect choice for ariel!! i was so enchanted by her mannerisms the entire film. she’s got such an otherworldly beauty so paired with her voice she REALLY looks and feels like a disney princess…loved her so much. no comment on awkwafina’s unfortunate addition to the film

we’re restarting one of our long running dnd campaigns and i’m pretty sad about it ❤️‍🩹 it’s the best choice because the setting was made by our DM a long time ago and she wants a reset because she’s improved her narration/lore/etc since its creation but it’s still sad and hard to let go. i’m really excited to relive some of my favorite moments with some new twists and i have a deeper understanding of my character now so i think i’ll only end up loving her more as i replay her. dnd with my friends is truly one of my favorite hobbies and it’s so important to me! there have been so many changes throughout the years i’ve played but i’m so glad to still be playing despite it because it’s very fun and therapeutic lol

i got a raise at work 🫨 not that it makes much of a difference LMFAO but i was seriously considering leaving my job before my raise so it’s nice to be making a little more money. the cost of living in washington is so insane that i feel really unsure of my future lol but it’s seriously my dream to own my own house. just a little one story house that i can call my own. i know it seems like a small dream lol but it’s literally my number one motivation and i’m always daydreaming about how i’d decorate my own home inside and out!!

i finally bought tears of the kingdom and i’ve been obsessed with it!!! not surprised because i loved breath of the wild lol. i love link so much he’s such a cool protagonist. always wanted to be like him when i was a kid LMAOO either him or sheik! i would say i’m more like a deku scrub…💀 like look at this fella…

like….???!!!! THATS ME…the lil angry face. love these guys. anyways i love the game LMAO i hit about 50 hours and realized i should maybe try tackling my first dungeon 💀 it’s just so much fun to run around and collect ingredients and koroks…plus i have a little pack of zelda amiibo cards so every day i hop on and scan them all so i can open treasure chests as a little treat…love it!!! i can’t wait to see king sidon again btw. that’s the light of my life

ever since my OCD diagnosis i’ve been avoiding my therapist (L) and struggling to really understand why but i think it’s because i feel guilty about being diagnosed LMAO…i have like this weird fixation on unknowingly manipulating/lying to others and my brain keeps trying to convince me i manipulated her into a diagnosis. i don’t feel like i have “real” OCD if that makes sense. and i feel this weird sense of guilt about making light of it or like taking resources from people with real, severe OCD. it’s frustrating because i know that’s definitely a symptom of OCD but i also feel like none of my symptoms are legitimate and they’re just delusions. it’s incessant. which like logically is that probably just a symptom of the OCD? yeah but i also am having trouble admitting that to myself for some reason lol. at least not without guilt or shame attached and i really try to avoid feeling that way if i can. anyways it’s a real pain in the ass and i finally sucked it up and made an appointment for tomorrow so i can try to talk through some of this with her

i’m up and down a lot, it’s been the worst year of my life i think lol but somehow i’m still chugging along 💀 every day i put the rainbow clown wig back on and march thru my day despite it all though so it’s whatever i guess. definitely going thru my saturn return and ngl so far it sucks and i definitely hate it but you know! my 20s have been Not Great so maybe my 30s will be better for it. hope everyone is doing well and staying safe. let me know what you’re up to in my inbox if you want! i always like when people message me their life updates lol. it’s sweet when people think of me as someone they want to update ❣️

[idk-thisistoomuchpressure]

Beneath the Surface ch.1

Sunoo flashed his trademark bright smile at the camera, the soft studio lights making him appear even more radiant. His laughter, playful and infectious, echoed through the set as the other members joined in on the joke. It was a variety show they’d filmed dozens of times, and Sunoo had mastered the art of being effortlessly charming. The energy he exuded was magnetic; it was what fans loved about him.

“You’re always the sunshine of the group!” the host said, her eyes twinkling as she pointed at Sunoo. “How do you stay so positive all the time?”

Sunoo laughed again, waving his hands in mock embarrassment. “Ah, I don’t know! It’s just how I am, I guess,” he replied, his voice light and airy. “I get my energy from the members, and the fans, of course!”

The cameras ate it up. He knew what the viewers wanted to see—the cheerful boy who could lift the mood of the entire group. He was Sunshine Sunoo, after all.

But as the cameras switched off for a brief break, Sunoo’s smile faded almost instantly. His eyes darted toward the monitor, where clips of the show were being played back. He watched himself, standing next to Sunghoon and Jungwon. His stomach twisted in knots as he compared himself to them—their lean figures, their sharp jawlines. They looked so effortless, so perfect.

The heavy pit that had taken up residence in his stomach over the last few months grew heavier. The smiling, happy-go-lucky Sunoo on-screen wasn’t the same person who looked back at him in the mirror every night.

As the crew reset the stage, Sunoo shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He was already mentally calculating how little he’d eaten that day. A piece of toast in the morning, a few bites of fruit at lunch, and some water. That should have been enough, right? He hadn’t touched the snacks that the staff had provided—he couldn’t. Not when he already felt like he was always on the brink of slipping.

He tugged at the oversized sweater he was wearing, a calculated choice for the shoot. It hid his midsection, which he’d become increasingly self-conscious about. No one could see how bloated he felt, how much he hated the way his body looked, and that was the goal. As long as he could keep the facade going, no one would know.

But inside, the feelings gnawed at him constantly. The urge to binge had started creeping back in, stronger than ever before. The self-control that had once seemed so solid now felt fragile, like it could shatter at any moment. Sunoo’s stomach clenched, not from hunger but from the anxiety that simmered beneath the surface.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up the act.

After the show wrapped up, the members returned to the waiting room, tired but satisfied with how the recording had gone. Sunoo followed behind them, feeling a growing disconnect. The others laughed and talked about their upcoming schedules, brimming with excitement over their individual projects.

Jungwon leaned back on the couch, flipping through his phone. “I’ve got a fitting for that new clothing brand tomorrow,” he said casually. “It’s their biggest campaign yet.”

Heeseung grinned, tapping his shoulder. “Man, that’s huge! Congrats, Jungwon. You’re killing it.”

Sunghoon nodded in agreement. “That’s awesome. Jake and I are shooting a jewelry campaign next week too. Should be fun.”

Sunoo smiled along with them, but the words felt like they were getting stuck in his throat. He had nothing lined up. No big campaigns, no endorsements. The other members had photoshoots, variety show appearances, and brand deals rolling in, while he felt stuck in place, like he wasn’t good enough to be chosen for anything special.

As their success mounted, so did his feelings of inadequacy. He wasn’t doing enough. He wasn’t enough.

“Sunoo, anything coming up for you?” Jungwon asked, turning to him with a curious smile.

Sunoo blinked, snapping back to the conversation. “Ah, no, just group schedules for now,” he replied quickly, forcing another smile. “But I’m happy for you guys. Really.”

Jungwon nodded, none the wiser to the turmoil behind Sunoo’s eyes. The conversation moved on, but Sunoo’s thoughts stayed stuck on that moment. The nagging voice in his head kept repeating itself over and over: You’re not good enough. You’ll never be good enough.

Later that night, after the group returned to the dorms, Sunoo found himself alone in his room. The others were winding down, preparing for the next day, but Sunoo’s mind wouldn’t let him rest. He sat on his bed, scrolling aimlessly through his phone, hoping for some kind of distraction.

But as he flicked through his social media feed, he made the mistake of opening the comments section of their latest group post. He’d learned to avoid it on bad days, but tonight he couldn’t help himself. The first few comments were full of praise, as usual. Fans gushing over how cute he looked on the variety show, complimenting his smile.

But then he saw it.

A single comment among hundreds: “Sunoo’s looking a little heavier these days, huh?”

His chest tightened. His heart sank as he scrolled further. There were more.

“He’s not as skinny as the other members. Is he gaining weight?”

“Maybe he should stop eating so much.”

The words blurred together as his vision swam. Each comment felt like a punch to the gut. He knew he shouldn’t care. He knew he should have stopped reading. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away. The self-doubt that had been simmering inside him for months now boiled over.

The carefully constructed walls he’d built around himself—walls made of forced smiles and cheerful laughter—began to crack. The urge to binge, which he’d managed to suppress for weeks, came rushing back with full force.

The next morning, the dorm was quiet as usual. The members had already left for their respective schedules, but Sunoo had the day off. He sat at the kitchen table, poking at a bowl of cereal with his spoon. The previous night’s comments still swirled in his mind, clinging to him like a shadow.

He had hardly slept. The anxious energy had kept him tossing and turning in bed, his mind replaying the words over and over. When he finally did drift off, his dreams were filled with distorted images of himself—larger, unrecognizable, always being watched, always being judged.

Across the table, Sunghoon sat with his cup of coffee, watching Sunoo out of the corner of his eye. He’d noticed something was off the day before, but he hadn’t been sure what it was. Sunoo had been quieter than usual, his smiles a little more forced, his laughter a little hollow.

And now, watching him pick at his breakfast without really eating, Sunghoon felt that gnawing concern grow. He wasn’t sure what to say, or how to approach it. Sunoo was always so bright, always the one cheering others up. But there was something fragile in the way Sunoo was sitting this morning, something that made Sunghoon worry.

“Not hungry?” Sunghoon asked, keeping his tone light.

Sunoo startled slightly, as if he hadn’t realized Sunghoon was there. He glanced at the cereal, then back at Sunghoon, forcing another one of those tight smiles. “Just not in the mood, I guess,” he said, pushing the bowl away. “I’ll eat later.”

Sunghoon didn’t push, but he felt a flicker of unease settle in his chest. He wasn’t sure what was wrong, but something was off. Sunoo’s energy felt... different. Quieter. More withdrawn.

Throughout the day, Sunghoon kept an eye on Sunoo, noticing more of the small things—the way Sunoo seemed to avoid meals, the way he would linger in front of the mirror a little too long, tugging at his clothes. It wasn’t like Sunoo to be this self-conscious. Sunghoon had always admired Sunoo’s confidence, the way he carried himself with a natural ease. But lately, that ease seemed to be slipping.

In group activities, Sunoo’s usual bright persona remained, but Sunghoon could tell it was a mask. It was subtle—small, almost imperceptible shifts in behavior. But to Sunghoon, who had spent years by Sunoo’s side, it was noticeable.

And it worried him.

Days passed, and the tension inside Sunoo only grew worse. He continued to participate in group activities, putting on the same bright, cheerful act that fans expected of him. But every time he looked in the mirror, all he could see were the comments flashing before his eyes.

He looks heavier. He’s not as skinny as the others. Maybe he should stop eating so much.

Those words clung to him like a second skin, making it impossible to look at himself without feeling disgusted. He started skipping meals more frequently, telling himself it was just temporary, just until he could lose a little more weight. But the hunger gnawed at him, both physically and emotionally.

And with every passing day, the urge to binge grew stronger.

Sunoo fought it, trying to hold on to whatever self-control he had left. But it was getting harder. The more he restricted, the more his body screamed for food, for comfort. It felt like a constant battle in his mind—one he wasn’t sure he could win.

One evening, after a long day of filming, the group returned to the dorms. Everyone was exhausted, but there was a sense of satisfaction in the air. They had done well today. The atmosphere was light as the members joked and teased each other, but Sunoo could hardly focus.

He felt disconnected, like he was watching everything from a distance. His stomach churned, the hunger he’d been suppressing all day finally reaching a breaking point. He knew what was coming, could feel it creeping in. The urge to binge was back, stronger than ever.

Sunoo excused himself quietly, slipping away to his room before anyone could notice the shift in his mood. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his heart racing.

Not now. Please, not now.

He crossed the room in a daze, heading straight for the small stash of snacks he kept hidden in the back of his closet. His hands trembled as he pulled out a bag of chips, ripping it open with frantic movements. The sound of the crinkling plastic was loud in the silence of the room.

Sunoo’s mind was already shutting down, the familiar fog of compulsion settling over him. He ate quickly, mindlessly, shoving chip after chip into his mouth without tasting them. The need to fill the empty void inside him consumed him entirely, blocking out everything else.

By the time he finished the bag, his stomach felt painfully full, but the urge wasn’t gone. He grabbed another snack, and then another, eating until his hands shook and his vision blurred with tears. The shame followed quickly, wrapping around him like a suffocating blanket.

His chest heaved as he looked down at the empty wrappers scattered around him. He had done it again. He had given in. The cycle was repeating itself, and he felt powerless to stop it.

A soft knock at the door startled him out of his haze.

“Sunoo?” Sunghoon’s voice was gentle, but it sent a jolt of panic through Sunoo’s body. He quickly shoved the empty wrappers under his bed, wiping at his tear-streaked face as best as he could.

“Yeah?” he called, his voice shaky, still struggling to compose himself.

“Are you okay?” Sunghoon’s concern was evident, and Sunoo hated how much it hurt to hear it. How badly he wanted to be okay, to not have to hide the mess inside him. But the thought of letting Sunghoon in, of exposing this ugly part of himself, terrified him.

“I’m fine,” Sunoo replied, forcing his voice to sound normal. “Just tired, that’s all.”

There was a pause, a long silence where Sunoo knew that Sunghoon could probably feel the lie hanging between them. But Sunghoon didn’t push. He was always careful, never one to force Sunoo into talking before he was ready.

“Alright,” Sunghoon finally said, his voice soft. “If you need anything... I’m here, okay?”

“Thanks,” Sunoo whispered, barely audible. He waited until he heard Sunghoon’s footsteps fade down the hall before allowing his shoulders to slump in relief.

But as he sat there in the silence of his room, the wrappers still stuffed under his bed, the weight of his shame and guilt felt heavier than ever. He had pushed Sunghoon away—again. And part of him knew that he couldn’t keep doing this forever. The wall he had built between himself and the others, especially Sunghoon, was starting to crack.

But tonight, he wasn’t ready to face it. Tonight, he wasn’t ready to let anyone in.

Sunoo curled up on his bed, pulling the blankets around him as if they could shield him from the thoughts swirling in his head. The hunger was gone, replaced by a sickening fullness that made his stomach ache. But the real pain was deeper than that—the kind of pain that food couldn’t fix, no matter how much he ate.

And as he lay there in the dark, Sunoo couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever be able to break free from the cycle. The thought of trying felt exhausting, overwhelming.

But as much as he wanted to push Sunghoon away, part of him couldn’t stop thinking about how Sunghoon had lingered at his door, waiting. How, even though Sunoo had lied, Sunghoon hadn’t forced him to talk. He had simply been there, offering his presence quietly, without judgment.

And maybe, just maybe, that was what Sunoo needed the most.

For now, though, he let the exhaustion take over, slipping into a restless sleep with the weight of his secret still pressing down on him. Tomorrow would come, and with it, the same battles. But for tonight, Sunoo remained in the fragile space between holding on and letting go, uncertain of which way he would fall.

cross-posted on ao3

[waitimcomingtoo]

Lost In Translation

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: you dated during the first Spider-Man movie, broke up after the second, and now things are awkward as you come back to film the third

Masterlist

“Hi mom.” You said as you picked up the phone.

“Hi sweetie. I wanted to call and check in on you. Are you nervous for you first day back on set tomorrow?”

“No.” You shrugged. “Why would I be?”

“Because Tom will be there and you haven’t seen him since your relationship ended in flames last year.” She said simply. “Plus, you guys have to act like a couple and kiss again which I imagine is probably going to be super painful for you since he was your longest relationship and you thought you were going to marry him.”

“Shit, mom. When you put it like that, I’m super nervous.” You frowned and sat up.

“It’ll be okay.” Your mom assured you. “I’m sure it won’t affect your performance. Even if you think about how you were falling in love with other while filming the first movie and dating while filming the second movie, which perfectly reflected the relationship your characters were having on screen.”

“Mom, you are so bad at this.”

“Just relax. The fact that you guys haven’t spoken since he abandoned you in a hotel last year is not going to effect your ability to act like a loving couple in the biggest blockbuster of the year. You have nothing to worry about. Just don’t get inside your head.” Your mom said like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Right.” You laughed nervously. “How could I possibly do that?”

On the other side of the world, Tom was getting a phone call of his own. He saw Jake Gyllenhaal’s contact name pop up on his phone and lifted it to his ear.

“Bitch, you better not be calling me up to break me like a promise.” Tom said when he picked up.

“I called to see how you were doing.” Jake said. “I know shooting starts tomorrow and it’s probably really hard for you to do it without your true love by your side.”

“Yeah.” Tom sighed. “Filming with Y/n after our breakup is probably going to be really hard.”

“I meant me.” Jake replied. “I wish they brought my character back so I could be with you. Remember, even if I’m not there physically, I’m with you in spirit.”

“Thanks.” Tom said flatly. “This was almost helpful.”

“You sound nervous. Is something on your mind?”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to play Y/n’s boyfriend after the way things ended between us. She hates me.” Tom sighed sadly.

“Did she say that?” Jake asked.

“No. But she hasn’t spoken to me in almost a year.”

“Well in the name of being honest-“

“Oh God.” Tom gulped.

“She probably does hate you.” Jake continued. “What happened between you guys anyway? I thought you were in love.”

“We were. It was all my fault that things got messy between us. I totally fucked up.” Tom admitted.

“How bad was it?” Jake wondered.

“Really bad.” Tom frowned. “Worse than not showing up to her 21st birthday party bad, you heartless bitch.”

“What was that?”

“Sorry.” Tom said quickly. “Forget I said anything.”

“I remember how you guys used to act around each other. She really loved you, man. Anyone could see that. Whatever you did, she could still forgive you. You just have to make it up to her.” Jake advised.

“How?” Tom groaned. “She’s blocked me on all social media and ignores all my calls.”

“She can’t ignore you on set.” Jake reminded him. “You just have to show her that you’re sorry and that you’ve changed.”

“How do I do that?” Tom wondered.

“Just be there for her in all the ways you weren’t before. Show her you’ve grown up and learned from your mistakes and deserve her now.”

“Wow.” Tom blinked in surprise. “When did you get so good at relationships?”

“When someone writes a ten minute song and short film about you, you do a little self reflecting.” Jake admitted.

“Thanks for the advice, mate.” Tom smiled. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Good. If I don’t answer, I’m probably at an indie music concert. You should come with me sometime. They’re really cool and-“

“I gotta go.” Tom cut him off and quickly hung up.

The next day, the cast and crew stood in a circle, ready for the first day of filming. You made eye contact with Tom on the other side of the circle and felt your entire body heat up. He felt his heart crack a little more when you looked away. Seeing you for the first time since the break up made him feel dizzy with all the emotions that hit him at once. You quickly looked back at him and this time, you let the eye contact linger.

“Welcome back everybody.” The director said. “I hope you’ve read your scripts and done your homework. We have the potential to make this the best movie yet. And of course, that’s a big thanks to our incredible leads.”

The cast and crew pushed you and Tom towards each other until you were standing next to each other. You avoided eye contact with each other as you awkwardly bumped shoulders.

“The romance between the two of you is the backbone of this movie, so it’s a good thing we cast two actors with such an inspiring and passionate love for each other. You two have never let us down before and we know you won’t now. If it’s okay with everyone, I’d like to get this thing started.” The director concluded his speech. Everyone clapped as they looked at you and Tom, which made the impossibly awkward situation even worse. The cast and crew dispersed, leaving you and Tom alone together.

“Hey. That was kinda awkward.” Tom laughed nervously. “I guess everyone thinks we’re still a couple.”

“It’s good to see you.” You smiled tightly at him.

“You too.” He melted instantly. “Really good, actually. I’ve really missed you. I tried calling you but I think your number changed.”

“It didn’t.” You shrugged. “I blocked your number.”

“Oh. Right.” He smiled weakly. “That’s probably a good thing. I’ve probably left you over a hundred drunk messages in the past year. I really miss you, darling. I can’t tell you how sorry I am about-“

“Let me just stop you.” You cut him off. “I’m not here to have some magical reunion where we run into each others arm and forget the breakup ever happened. We broke up for a reason. We just don’t work, Tom. We’re not the right people for each other.”

Tom’s jaw dropped a little at your bluntness but he quickly gathered himself.

“I disagree.” He said simply.

“I don’t really care.” You matched his tone.

“Y/n, I’m really sorry about the way things ended between us.” Tom began the apology he’d been holding in. “Breaking up with you was a big mistake. I was drunk and tired and an idiot and-“

“And I’ve moved on.” You shrugged. “I forgive you for everything.”

“You do?” He asked skeptically.

“I have to. I can’t live in the past forever and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do if I hold a grudge over that night. We dated, we fought, and we broke up. It happens. Let’s just move on and be professional.”

“Professional?” Tom furrowed his eyebrows at how calm you were being.

“Yeah, professional.” You nodded. “We’re just coworkers doing a job. That’s all. I can pretend to be in love with you for the next five months. I’m an actress, after all.”

Every word you said broke Tom down a little more. He stared at you with an open mouth as he internalized all of your words. Actress, coworkers, pretend. Every word hurt him more than the last.

“Our relationship has never been professional. We used to sneak off to make out behind sets all during the second movie. And we had giggly, cuddly late night movie nights all most every day when filming the first movie. You and I have always been more than coworkers.” Tom said as his face heated up. He was mostly trying to convince himself that it all happened, because the coldness he was receiving from you now made him feel like you weren’t as torn up over this break up as he was. You seemed perfectly fine whereas he hadn’t slept in months.

“Not anymore.” You shrugged, deflating Tom even more.

“You really don’t feel anything for me anymore?” Tom asked, feeling his eyes well up with tears.

“No. I don’t.” You looked him right in the eye and shook your head.

“Oh.” His nodded slowly as he eyes fell to the floor.

“MJ. You’re needed in hair and makeup.” An intern said as he passed you by.

“Thanks. I’ll be right there.” You smiled warmly, a complete 180° from how you were treating Tom.

“See you around?” You asked Tom with a lightness in your voice as if he were someone you just met today. He stared at you blankly as he fought the urge to cry, a fight he was losing.

“What?” He slowly came back to reality. “Oh. Yeah. See you around.”

You gave him a curt nod before walking away. You made your way to the makeup trailer and shut the door behind you before immediately bursting into tears.

“Welcome back you sexy - oh my God.” Your makeup artist stopped mid sentence. “What happened to you?”

“I just told Tom I didn’t have feelings for him anymore.” You cried and sat down in your chair.

“Oh. I thought you did?”

“OBVIOUSLY I WAS LYING!” You screamed. Your makeup artist gave you a surprised look and you quickly wiped your face.

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered. “I’ve been holding that in all morning. Of course I still have feelings for Tom. I have been in love with him since 2016 and that has never changed. He’s just not allowed to know that.”

“Why not?”

“Because he broke my heart!” You screamed. You quickly smoothed your hair and wiped your face to collect yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly. “He broke my heart.”

“Has he apologized?”

“Yes. Like a thousand times. He’s left me so many drunken voice messages about how much he regrets our break up. He thinks I haven’t heard them.” You sighed as you pulled out your phone.

“Have you?”

“Yeah. I listen to them when I work out.” You admitted. “It really pushes me, you know?”

“Oh honey. That’s not normal.”

“I thought I’d be over him by now. What’s wrong with me?” You groaned and reached for a tissue.

“Maybe you’re not over him because you’re not supposed to get over him.”

“What do you mean?” You wondered.

“You said you’ve been in love with him since 2016, right? I saw him in 2016. He was a gangly little nobody with a frog in his mouth. But he has always looked at you like you put the sun in the sky. Even in 2016. And you used to wear bomber jackets to set every single day.”

“They were really popular back then.” You sniffled.

“What you guys had was real love. So maybe you’re not supposed to get over him. Maybe you guys had to fall apart so you could fall back together.”

“Maybe.” You nodded. “I kinda just gave him a whole speech about how over him I was. If I take him back now, I’ll look pathetic.”

“So make him beg for it. Make him prove that he’s changed and ready for a relationship now. And when he does, he’ll be yours again.”

“When did you get so smart?” You smiled at your makeup artist.

“I have a PHD.” He smiled proudly.

“You do?”

“Pretty huge dick.” He winked at you before getting out your makeup bag. An hour later, you were dressed and in makeup, all traces of your tears hidden under concealer.

“Miss Y/n.” An intern asked as they knocked on the door. “You’re needed on set.”

“Thank you. I’ll be right there.” You called behind you checking your reflection in the mirror.

“Remember. Make him beg. No cracking.” Your makeup artist said as he put one last bit of powder on your nose.

“No cracking.” You nodded. “I can do that. It’ll be easy.”

You walked on set with your head held high, determined not to ruin your makeup. You saw Tom standing in the middle of the high school set, dressed in his Peter clothes. His face lit up when he saw you and he gave you a friendly wave.

“Okay people. We’re gonna start with scene five b.” The director said from his chair. You frowned and flipped through the script in your hand, vaguely remembering something about that scene.

“Scene 5 b? Isn’t that…” Tom trailed off and made panicked eye contact with you as the realization hit you at same time.

“The kiss.” The director smiled. “I want this to be really special you guys. This is the first time your characters interact in the movie. It’s a reminder to the audience how in love you two are.“

“For fucks sake.” You mumbled as you handed your script off and avoided eye contact with Tom.

“Remember, this is the first time we’re seeing Peter and MJ kiss in the movie. They’re in an established relationship now. They’re comfortable with each other. They’re sure of who they are and what they mean to each other. I want to see you two kiss like you’ve done it everyday of your lives. Who am I kidding? You guys got this.” The director chuckled as he sat down in his chair. All while he was talking, you and Tom made quick awkward glances at each other, always getting caught by the other.

“We got this.” You whispered to him. “We got this, right?”

“We haven’t kissed in over a year.” He whispered in a panic. “Which way does my head go?“

“To the left. Stop overthinking it. Your kisses get sloppy when you overthink it and that’s not gonna translate well on camera.” You hissed before walking over to your locker. Tom walked to his mark and gave you a worried look, which you returned with a stare that told him to relax.

“Action!” The direction called. Tom plastered a smile on and walked over to your locker.

“MJ!” He exclaimed in his American accent.

“Ah!” You jumped and shut your locker. “You scared me.”

“Sorry. I just woke up really excited.” He grinned and bounced on his heels.

“Why? Is something important happening today?” You played coy as you shut your locker.

“No, nothing important. It’s just the day we hear back from our top choice of colleges.” Tom replied sarcastically as he rested his hands on your hips.

“I’m kidding.” You rolled your eyes. “Have you gotten your letter yet?”

“No. I told May to text me the minute the mailman comes. Have you gotten yours?”

“I have, actually. That’s why I’m standing here and having a normal conversation with you and not mentioning my college plans.” You said with a sweet smile as you played with the strings of his hoodie.

“So sarcastic.” He teased and leaned in.

“Who me? Never.” You scoffed before filling in the rest of the space. Your lips connected in a kiss for the first time in almost a year, sending sparks through both your bodies. You couldn’t fight the way you naturally melted into him no matter how hard you tried. Tom had to keep himself from getting completely swept away in the kiss by reminding himself that it was just for the scene. You pulled away shortly and looked in his eyes, seeing flecks of regret and hope swimming in his irises.

“We’ll get them soon.” You quickly said your next line. “Don’t worry. Just try to relax.”

“How am I supposed to relax when we’re finding out if we got into MIT or not today?” He whined and rested his head on your shoulder.

“I don’t know. Do your best.”

“If only I had a pretty girl with pretty lips to distract me.” He pouted as he picked his head up.

“If I see any, I’ll send em your way.” You replied. Tom rolled his eyes at you and you pulled him into another kiss, letting it linger this time. He conveyed his best wordless apology as he kissed you, even giving your hip a gentle squeeze the way he always used to. Everything you ever felt for him came rushing back as you kissed him. You pulled away before you got too lost in the moment and rested your forehead against his.

“We’ll check the mailboxes as soon as we get home, okay?” You said softly.

“I like it when you call our apartment complex “home”. It makes me feel like we live together.” He smiled.

“Well MIT does have co-Ed dorms. Maybe one day, we will live together.” You smiled sheepishly.

“Is that an excited smile?” He pretended to gasp. “Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?”

“Shut up.” You playfully hit his arm before going in for another kiss.

“And cut.” The director called. “Great job guys. The magic is still there.”

You pulled out of the kiss and stared at Tom as the rest of the room melted away. He looked at you with fond eyes and a soft smile as you stared at him with a stunned expression.

“Funny.” He said quietly. “I was gonna say the same thing.”

You practically jumped out of his arms and discreetly wiped your mouth as you remembered what your make up artist said. No cracking. Not until he proved that he had changed.

“Back to one!” The director called out. You looked at Tom and internally groaned at the thought of doing that all over again. He gave you an almost sympathetic smile before getting back into position.

You filmed a few more scenes throughout the day, luckily none of them requiring you to kiss. You didn’t speak between scenes, which was more your choice than Tom’s. Every time he tried to make a joke or tell you something, you would just give him a fake smile and look away. His heart broke every time you made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with him, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

After wrapping for the day, you thanked the crew and went back to your trailer. Tom made the impulsive decision to follow you to your trailer and knocked on your door.

“Oh. It’s you.” You said flatly when you opened up. On the inside, your stomach was erupting in butterflies at the sight of him at your door. You’d been ignoring him all day and it clearly got to him. Watching him relentlessly trying to get back in your good graces made it all that much harder to pretend you didn’t love him anymore.

“Hi.” He smiled, not letting you see how much your disinterested tone stung him.

“Did you need something?”

Tom stared at you for a moment, forgetting what he came to talk to you about. He still couldn’t believe he was talking to you after almost a year of radio silence and he didn’t want to mess up again.

“Are you okay?” You waved your hand in front of his face. “You look pale.”

“I’m fine. Someone just hacked into my Etsy account.” He lied. “Could I come in?”

“Oh.” You pretended to be surprised. “I guess so.”

You stepped aside and let him into your trailer, anxiously awaiting for what he had to say. Tom awkwardly sat on the couch and looked around, feeling the torture of trying to make small talk with someone you used to love.

“So what did you want to talk about?” You folded your arm and tried to look as bored as possible.

“First, I wanted to thank you for being so cool this morning. I honestly thought you were gonna throw a drink in my face or slap me.” He laughed nervously. Your indifferent expression didn’t budge so he quickly stopped laughing.

“Not that I think you’re violent or bitter or anything.” He quickly followed up. “I was just shocked at how civil you were being with me after the last time we spoke. I believe your last words to me were “fuck you, Tom.” Which, of course, I complete deserved.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. When you didn’t say anything else, an awkward silence filled the room.

“Weird day, huh?” He said after a beat of silence. “I almost forgot what it felt like to kiss you.”

“I was-“

“I’m lying!” He blurted and stood up. “I didn’t forget. I could never forget how it feels to kiss you. I didn’t mean that.”

“I said nothing.” You reminded him in light of his outburst.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed and sat down again. “I don’t know how to act around you anymore. I’m so scared of saying the wrong thing and messing up the sliver of friendship we have left.”

“Tom.” You sighed and scratched the back of your neck.

“It’s just so hard to act like I’m in love with you on screen when I know you hate me off screen.” He said quietly as he stared at the ground. You felt guilty for torturing him all day when you saw just how broken he was. You wanted him to feel the pain he put you through, and it seemed like he had. You took a seat next to him on the couch but didn’t let your bodies touch.

“I don’t hate you.” You told him. “I’m just not in love with you anymore.”

Tom froze when he heard you say this and felt his stomach drop. He looked at you and gave you a soft, sad smile.

“That’s so much worse.” He told you. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as you looked at him, feeling an overwhelming urge to hug him and tell him everything was forgiven.

“Are you still in love with me?” You asked him.

“Of course I am.” He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re the love of my life.”

“Then why did you break up with me? You never actually told me why. All I got was a text.” Your voice cracked as all the painful memories flooded back.

“I know.” He sighed. “I’m such an idiot. I wish I never sent that stupid text. I knew I was never going to be able to do it in person so I took the cowards way out. I’ll never be able to apologize enough. It was the biggest mistake of my life.”

You could barely hear his apology as your mind brought you back to that night. You remembered the night your relationship ended perfectly. Almost a year ago, you did your final day of interviews for the press tour. You went out for drinks with the cast afterwards and everything was fine. Tom had left the bar before you, claiming he didn’t feel well. An hour later, your phone buzzed with a message from Tom. When you went to the hotel room to talk to him, he was already gone.

You pulled your phone suddenly out and clicked on Tom’s contact. After scrolling up for a while through all his apologies, you found the text.

“I can’t do this anymore. We’re over. I’m sorry. T.” You read the text out loud with zero emotion in your voice. Tom crumbled when he heard it and let out a defeated sigh.

“I blocked your number after I read that text. Then I unblocked it a month later.” You said, voice still neutral.

“So you got my calls?” He asked as he picked his head up.

“Yup. And all the drunk messages.”

“You never picked up.” He said softly.

“I never wanted to hear what you had to say.” You shrugged, twisting the knife even more.

“I can’t blame you. I was a dick that night.”

“Yeah. You were.” You agreed. You suddenly got off the couch, not wanting to be next to him for another second.

“What’s wrong?” He wondered at the sudden movement.

“You broke up with me over text and then flew home without me. That’s what’s wrong.” You said as you folded your arms.

You felt all the rage from that night return to you. You looked around your trailer and grabbed a clementine before launching it at Tom’s head. He caught it and looked at you in surprise as you began to throw more fruit.

“You are such a dick!” You hissed. “We were together for three years and all I got was a text message saying it’s over? Who does that?”

“I’m sorry!” He said as he caught a banana. “I don’t know what I was thinking. And stop throwing your welcome basket at me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You snapped and threw another clementine.

“Can we not fight right now? I just wanted to have a civil conversation.” He groaned as he caught the clementine.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll come back when it’s a more convenient time for you to explain why you end our three year relationship over text. Fuck you.” You threw a banana at his head and turned to leave.

“There she goes. Storming out of a room instead of talking like an adult. I’m glad to see you haven’t changed.” Tom grumbled, making you freeze in place. He instantly regretted it as he watched your body language go from angry to furious.

“What did you just say?” You asked as you slowly turned around.

“Uh oh.” He gulped.

“You think I’m the one who can’t talk like an adult?” Your voice was thick with rage as you pointed to yourself.

“I’m just saying.” Tom said without looking at you. “I’ve been trying to be nice to you all day and you won’t even look at me. I didn’t expect us to magically fix our relationship in one day, but I thought we could at least be friends.”

“How can we be friends?” You asked him. “You ended our three year relationship in three sentence text the second our press tour ended. And then got on a plane without me. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “I felt like I had fallen out of love with you. I wasn’t happy anymore.”

“But you never mentioned that before hand.” You reminded him. “You sat beside me in interview after interview in a million different cities and never once mentioned how you were feeling. You acted like everything was fine and then sent that text out of nowhere. How long did you feel that way before you told me?”

“I don’t know. A month? Two, maybe.”

“Two months?” You laughed sadly. “And you didn’t think to tell me before that night?”

“I didn’t want to make the press tour super awkward and messy.” He explained. “It would have broken the fans hearts if we broke up right before the movie came out”.

“Wow. Thank God you protected the fans feelings. I can’t even imagine how they would have felt about an unexpected breakup.” You said sarcastically before throwing more bananas at his head.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. And stop throwing bananas at me!” He whined. “I just didn’t want to break up with you and then have to pretend we were friends for a month while we promoted the movie.“

“So you dump me via text the second the press tour ends?” You scoffed. “And then leave me behind with no further explanation?”

“It couldn’t wait.” He shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry.”

“God. I’m that awful to be around that you couldn’t wait until we went to our home to end our three year relationship?” You asked as hot tears of embarrassment fell down your face.

“Why do you keep reminding me how long our relationship was?” He genuinely wondered.

“Because it was three fucking years!” You screamed. “And you dumped me in a fucking text!”

“Can you keep your voice down?” He asked quietly. “Don’t cause a scene on set. I thought you wanted us to be professional.”

“Don’t cause a scene?” Your eyes widened at his audacity. “I’m about to break every bone in your body and flush you down the toilet.”

“Real mature.” He rolled his eyes. “Could you actually do that? No. Right? Don’t come any closer.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do. You don’t get to tell me anything. Fuck you, Tom.” You spat. You turned to leave again, but he was too quick with his comebacks.

“Wow.” He said sarcastically. “That sounds familiar. It’s almost like it’s exactly what you said the last time we spoke”.

“What are you talking about?” You folded your arms. “I didn’t say anything after you sent that text message. You got on a plane and left, remember? That was the last time we saw each other.”

“No it wasn’t.” Tom frowned. “Don’t you remember when you came home early?”

Your mouth went dry as you suddenly remembered the actual last time you ever saw Tom. It was a few weeks after the text message when he walked into your shared house to collect the last of his things. Unbeknownst to him, you were there doing the same thing.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Tom stopped in his tracks when he saw you. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“I own this house.” You said flatly.

“No, of course.” He nodded. “I just thought you were still filming in Atlanta.”

“We wrapped early.”

“Oh. Congratulations on wrapping.” He smiled. “What’s the movie called again?”

“Don’t do that.” You sighed.

“Do what?”

“Act like you care. You don’t need to make small talk with me. I was just leaving.” You said as you picked up a cardboard box with “clothes” written on the side. You moved past him without making eye contact but he stopped you.

“You don’t have to go so soon. We could sit and talk if you want.” He offered, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt.

“Why would I want that?”

“Because we haven’t seen each other in a while.” He said softly, caught off guard by your attitude towards him.

“Yeah?” You tilted your head. “Whys that?”

“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “About everything. The text, leaving you, all of it. I’m so sorry.”

“Tom, what the hell happened?” You asked sadly. “I thought we were in love. I thought things were going really well between us.”

“They were.”

“So why did you leave? You just left me behind like I meant nothing to you. I’ve spent the past few weeks trying to understand where it all went wrong, but I can’t figure it out. What happened? Was it me? Did I ask for too much?”

“No. No, it wasn’t you. It was all me. I thought I lost feelings for you but that’s not the case. That was never the case. My family started asking me about proposing, and then we got asked about marriage practically everyday on the press tour. Things got so real between us and I got scared. I panicked and I broke up with you so I wouldn’t have to admit to myself that you were the most and only important thing in my life. I’ve never had another person mean that much to me before and I freaked out. I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared of fucking it up that I-“

“Fucked it up?” You cut him off.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I did. Big time. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. Being away from you made me realize how much I love and need you. I thought I was doing the right thing by breaking up with you, but I wasn’t. I thought I wasn’t ready for putting someone else above everything else, but I was. I thought-“

“I thought I was gonna marry you.” You cut him off again. You didn’t exactly say it to him, more so to yourself as you looked off in the distance. You looked down at the box in your hands and adjusted the weight before looking at him again.

“We were both wrong.” You shrugged before you walking out.

“Did you just replay it all in your head?” Tom asked you, bringing you back to reality.

“How’d you know?” You asked as a tear rolled down your cheek.

“You have the same look on your face as you did that night.” He noticed. “The look that’s been haunting me for the past year.”

“I totally forgot about that night.” You realized. “I forgot you said all those things.”

“Now you know that the breakup never had anything to do with you. It was all me. I ran scared.”

“Yeah, I know.” You smiled softly. “I was there.”

“I never deserved you, did I?” He asked. “I wanted to ask you for a second chance but honestly, I’m kinda rooting for you to end up with someone else now.”

“Don’t bother.” You sighed and sat beside him. “I don’t want anyone else. I’ve been lying to you and myself all day. I’m not over you. I’ve been in love with you since 2016. That’s never changed.”

“Really?” He asked hopefully.

“I don’t think it ever will.” You admitted with a shy smile.

“But you just yelled at me.” He frowned. “And threw a bunch of fruit at my head.”

“Yeah, I did.” You smiled proudly. “I needed to get that out of my system. I was holding that in for a long time.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you get that all out the first time.” He said as he took your hand. “I’ll never forgive myself for the way I ended things. Our relationship meant a lot to me and I ended it like it meant nothing. You deserved so much better than that.”

“Thank you for admitting that. It makes it easier to forgive you now. Especially after I got all of that off my chest. And throwing the fruit really helped, actually.” You said with a soft smile. He returned the smile and felt the awkward, icy tension melt away. He realized he was still holding your hand and went to pull away, but you held on.

“Where do we go from here?” Tom asked quietly as he rubbed soft circles on your hand with his thumb.

“Honestly, I don’t know. We were heading towards marriage a year ago. Then we didn’t speak for a year. And I just threw a bunch of fruit at you before telling you I was still in love with you. I’m not sure what the next step is.”

“Maybe there is no next step.” He shrugged. “Maybe we just take this one day at a time.”

“Where do we even start?” You wondered. You looked at each other for a minute as if you were seeing each other for the first time. And suddenly, you were kissing. It wasn’t you or Tom who leaned in first. It was a mutual decision made by human nature. You missed each other. You really missed each other.

“Let’s start there.” Tom said against your lips when he pulled away.

“Yeah.” You smiled softly. “That seems like a good place to start.”

Tag List 🏷

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[thegettingbyp2]

I think the secret ways of communicating will be great !!!!!!

Secret Language

Johnny Knoxville x reader

Buy me a coffee :)

It wasn’t long into my relationship with Johnny that we learnt the other guys from Jackass would mercilessly tease us for the smallest things. Johnny would tell me he loves me and we wouldn’t hear the end of it from Steve-O for days and as soon as he’d get over it, either me or Johnny would say something else and the cycle would start again. Because of this, over the past few months, me and Johnny had come up with gestures so we could communicate with each other without the guys noticing.

Tugging on his shirt

Whenever Johnny did a particularly dangerous stunt (i.e something to do with bulls) I would worry even more than usual. I’d stay by his side all day, most of the time, holding his hand or his arm until it was time for him to go and get changed ready to film. Even then, as soon as he’d come back, I’d hold onto him until he had to enter the bullring.

One time, the bull seemed angrier than usual, making me panic even more. I was clinging to Johnny so hard, I’m surprised my nails didn’t pierce his skin underneath his clothes.

‘Hey, I’m going to be okay,’ he said, turning and bending his knees slightly until he reached my eye level, not moving his arm from my grip.

‘I know, just be careful, I kind of need you in one piece you know.’

He chuckled softly and kissed me gently, making the guys behind us yell, Johnny sticking his middle finger up at them all behind his back. When he pulled away, he started heading over to the bull ring and I felt his arm sliding out of my grasp. Without thinking, I grabbed the back of his shirt and tugged on it lightly, trying to prolong contact with him. He turned around when he felt the tug, eyes softening when he saw how worried I was. Before I had the chance to tell him I loved him, he met my eyes.

‘Me too,’ he said simply as he walked into the bullring.

The stunt ended badly. Instead of just having to go to the medical trailer, a stretcher had to be brought into the bull ring so they could lift Johnny into the back of the ambulance. He was pretty out of it, not fully remembering what happened. As I was following him into the ambulance, his hand came out to lightly tug on the hem of my top. I looked into his eyes and they said everything he wanted to say with that single tug.

‘Me too,’ I said, taking his hand in mine.

Poke in the side

It was the end of the day and I was exhausted. Steve-O, Pontius and Ehren had spent all day trying to catch me out in different pranks resulting in me spending the whole day on edge and looking over my shoulder. I was so on edge that Johnny made me jump when he came into our trailer on the lunch break. I’ve always been a good target simply for how easy it is to make me jump. Before we got together, Johnny would constantly think of new ways to make me jump and while part of me hated it, the bigger part of me just fell in love with him more.

I’d gathered mine and Johnny’s things from the trailer, ready to head home when I was ambushed by the three boys who’d set my nerves on edge for the day, double checking that everything was okay and that they didn’t take it too far.

‘You’re fine,’ I laughed, ‘it kind of comes with being on set here, never let yourself relax. Though this does mean that tomorrow it’s my turn on all of you lot so watch your backs.’

I’d done exactly what I said not to do; I had let myself relax because it was the end of the day, the cameras had all been turned off and put away so there was no point in pranking anyone because we wouldn’t get any footage of it. As I was talking to the guys, I hadn’t noticed Johnny walking up behind me so when he poked me in the side, it made me jump making me scream. All of the guys started laughing hysterically, Johnny’s laugh being the loudest of them all as he ended up on the floor, unable to support himself while he laughed.

‘Sorry doll,’ he said as his laughs started to slow down and he got back up, both of his hands coming to my waist as he stood behind me, ‘ready to go.’ His words were coming out stunted as he was trying not to laugh as he spoke.

‘Get me out of here,’ I replied, laughing as we walked over to our car.

Ever since that incident, if one of us was ready to go home, we’d simply poke each other in the side, knowing that the other would understand.

Head roll

This came about while we were filming Jackass 3D. Johnny was involved in a stunt where he was going to get full body tackled by a big American football star. Steve-O had approached me earlier that day and said that he wanted the hit to come as a surprise to him so he wouldn’t be able to brace himself for impact. As soon as he said that, an idea formed in my head.

‘Hello, I’m Johnny Knoxville and this is,’

Johnny’s speech was cut off as I walked onto the football field, hair in bunches, a crop top and short skirt with “Knoxville” written on my cheeks. Johnny’s face had gone blank as he took in my appearance, eyeing me up and down.

‘Doll, you look,’

Before he could finish he was tackled from the side and brutally hit the ground. Everyone was silent until he let out a small groan which told us he was okay and that was everyone’s cue to laugh.

After he’d been checked out and cleared by the medics, we were all sitting around whilst the next stunt was being set up. I was sitting between Steve-O and Preston, Johnny opposite me. I could feel Johnny’s stare directed at me as I was still wearing my cheerleading get-up and I turned me head to look over at Johnny.

His eyes were dark as he watched me, clearly turned on. I raised my eyebrow at him, letting him know he had my attention. He held my gaze for a few moments before slowly rolling his head towards our shared dressing room and moving his eyes back to mine. He watched me intently as I stood up and excused myself, walking towards my dressing room, Johnny following shortly after.

‘Got to say doll, you wearing my name, I’m a fan,’ he mumbled in my ear before throwing me over his shoulder, making me laugh as he carried me into the dressing room.

[storiesforallfandoms]

hard day ~ pete davidson

word count: 2057

request?: yes!

“Hey can I request a Pete Davidson imagine where the reader has had a long hard day at set and dealing with papparazzi and Pete pampers her. Maybe ending in smut to make her feel special?”

description: after a hard day of filming, followed by an overwhelming run in with paparazzi, he decides to help her relax

pairing: pete davidson x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist (one, two)

The sound of the door slamming alerted Pete that his girlfriend was finally arriving home. She had texted him a few hours earlier to say she was being kept late on set, but neither one of them thought that she meant she’d be this late.

Pete craned his neck to peak around the doorway of the living room as he watched (Y/N) stomp up the stairs towards their shared room. He cringed as he heard that door slam shut as well. He knew this meant that (Y/N) wanted to be left alone, but he hated to leave her alone while she was so angry. So, he paused his show and got up to make his way to their room.

Instead of barging in, Pete stood outside their shared bedroom door and knocked. When there was no answer, he tried again.

“Fuck off,” came a groan.

“Hard day baby?” Pete asked her.

“Fuck off for a bit, Pete. I don’t wanna snap at you.”

Pete sighed and decided to leave her be. He knew it was best to let her blow off steam however she felt she had to, but it was hard when all he wanted was to take her in his arms and hold her until the bad went away.

An idea popped into his head. He moved from their bedroom to the bathroom down the hall. He began to run the bath and put some of (Y/N)’s favorite bubble bath in. He watched as the bubble rose so high that she would definitely disappear into them. While waiting for the hot water to cool down just enough that she could get in comfortably, Pete went down to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Once his de-stressing scene was all set up, he went back to their bedroom. Instead of knocking, Pete just walked in. He found his girlfriend laying face down on the bed. She was still completely dressed in her clothes from the day, which made him feel a slight twinge of sadness for her.

(Y/N) lifted her head just enough to look at Pete before letting it drop back down to the bed. “Go away.”

“I have a bath ready for you.”

(Y/N) rolled over onto her back and looked over at him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I think I did, actually. You seem very upset, and we both know how much you love a good bath to help calm down.”

(Y/N) looked at him for a moment longer. She had to admit he was right on that front. She loved to take a nice hot bath after a long, stressful day in order to calm down. But tonight she just felt extra stressed and frustrated to a point where it felt like even a bath wasn’t going to help her.

She couldn’t hold back her giggles as Pete lifted her into his arms and started carrying her towards the bathroom. He played her on the counter and began to strip her of her clothes.

“I think I know how to get undressed, Pete,” she joked.

“But it’s my favorite thing to do!” Pete responded, a goofy smile on her face as he pulled her pants and panties down her legs at the same time, leaving her completely naked in front of him.

“You do light up like a child on Christmas when I take my bra off,” she teased him, noticing his eyes lingering on her chest.

“Your tits are my favorite gifts,” he agreed, tweaking her nipple just once to satisfy the urge inside of him. (Y/N)’s legs tightened a little at the gesture. Pete noticed, but decided not to say anything just yet.

He helped her into the tub and poured her a glass of the wine.

“Aren’t you joining me?” she asked as she took the glass from him.

“I’ll join you in a nice glass of this expensive wine we have,” he said. “But this is your de-stressing bath. I’ll just sit here and watch and drink for a while.”

“That’s romantic,” she said, sarcastically. “I take a nice hot bubble bath all by myself, while my boyfriend sits on the toilet.”

“Hey, could be worse. I could also be naked while I’m sitting here. Imagine how weird that would be.”

(Y/N) crinkled her nose before she started to giggle. Pete smiled as well, feeling a sense of pride in making her laugh.

They both sat together for a while, just sipping their wine. (Y/N) felt her body relaxing in the hot water as she laid her head back against the wall behind her. This really was what she needed after such a long day, whether her more frustrated self wanted to admit it or not.

“What had you so worked up in the first place, babe?” Pete asked as he filled her wine glass.

(Y/N) groaned. “You’re ruining the mood, Pete.”

He chuckled. “Okay, sorry. Just asking is all.”

(Y/N) sighed and lifted her head again to look at him. “Remember how I texted you to tell you I was asked to stay a bit later in order to finish a scene? Well, that ‘a bit later’ turned into three hours later because the director kept making me film the scene over and over and over until he finally decided it was okay. Not perfect, not even great! Just okay. He put us through hours of reshooting just to decide he was going to go with the okay take! Fucking bastard!”

“What was his problem?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Beats me! Apparently nothing was good enough for him. Wasted three fucking hours filming just to get an okay scene. Then, when I left, I was tired but I wanted to spend at least an hour with you, so I decided to go get coffee. The minute I stepped out of my vehicle I was swarmed by paparazzi. I don’t know how they figured out where I went, but they would not leave me alone. I ended up not even going into the coffee place cause I could not get around at all.”

Pete reached out and took hold of one of (Y/N) bubbly, wet hands. “I’m so sorry, babe. I do get how much the paparazzi shit sucks, but on top of an already bad day? That fucking sucks so much?”

(Y/N) sighed and ran her thumb over Pete’s knuckles. “It does suck. I have to go back to set tomorrow morning and I’m dreading it so much. How am I supposed to go back there after spending so long filming that last scene today? I’ll kill the director the moment I see him.”

“You wouldn’t even hurt a fly baby, let’s not pretend here.”

(Y/N) chuckled. “You’re right, I can’t.”

The silence washed over them again. (Y/N)’s eyes trailed to Pete’s hand. She looked at it for a while, just lost in her own world as she absentmindedly ran her thumb over his knuckles. Then, she started thinking about his long fingers inside of her, curling just right to hit that spot inside of her that drove her over the edge every time. She felt a heat growing between her legs, and if she wasn’t in the bath already she was certain she’d be soaked.

“What are you thinking?” Pete asked, breaking her out of her trance. She looked up at him suddenly, eyes wide with the shock of being caught.

“Uh...” she said, trying to think of something to say. She didn’t want to tell Pete she had been having sexual daydreams, but then she realized what was the harm of telling him? They had been together for quite some time, it’s not like she’d scare him off by telling him anything. “I was thinking about your fingers inside of me.”

Pete’s pants grew a bit tighter at this. “Really? Pretty specific thing to be thinking about.”

“Well, I’m here holding your hand. I’m thinking about things that relax me. Your fingers definitely cause me to relax a lot when they’re down there.”

Pete placed his wine glass on the counter next to him and pulled his shirt over his head. (Y/N) watched in slight confusion, before realization washed over her when Pete’s hand disappeared under the water. He nudged her legs open and slowly ran two fingers up and down her slit, teasingly.

“You feel so wet already baby,” he joked, a smile on his face.

(Y/N) couldn’t contain her own smile and giggles. “You’re such a fucking do - ”

Her playful insult was silenced as Pete pushed two fingers deep inside of her. (Y/N) gasped, her head falling back against the wall behind her again. Pete started pumping in and out of her very slowly, making sure he wasn’t hurting her with what he was doing.

“Is this what you were thinking about baby?” he asked her.

“Fuck Pete,” she breathed. “Fuck yes this feels so good.”

Pete curled his fingers in a way that made it easier for him to hit the right spots. (Y/N) let out a moan and tried to buck her hips against his fingers, but he used his other hand to ease her back down.

“Just sit back and let me take care of you baby,” he said. “I’ll take all your stress away.”

Pete’s erection was becoming nearly unbearable as he watched (Y/N) coming undone in front of him, and felt her warmth wrapped around his fingers. He wanted nothing more than to take her right there, to really fuck any stress left out of her. But at the same time, he didn’t want that. He just wanted to make her feel good, to wipe the memories of he day away.

(Y/N)’s free hand wrapped around Pete’s bicep. Her nails dug so deep into his arm that Pete knew there would be marks there once she pulled away, maybe even full on scratches or blood, but he’d wear the marks with pride. He usually did whenever she left them on him.

He began to speed up his pumping. He felt (Y/N)’s thighs clenching around his hand, as if she were trying to hold him there. Breathy moans were escaping from her lips as he body began to tremble.

“Fuck Pete,” she breathed. “Fuck, I’m starting to feel close.”

“Yeah?” Pete asked. “Are you gonna cum all over my fingers baby?”

In response, (Y/N) moaned again. Pete picked up his pace a little more, causing her moans to become screams of pleasure. He could feel the tension building up in her as he body prepared to let go.

Pete leaned forward to kiss (Y/N) gently on her lips. “Cum for me, princess. Let me feel you.”

With those words, (Y/N) came completely undone. She screamed Pete’s name so loud he was sure the neighbors would hear her. He felt her clenching around his fingers and he wished he could actually feel her wetness and not just that of the water in the tub.

(Y/N) was breathing heavily when Pete was finally able to pull away from her. He stood and grabbed a nearby hand towel to begin drying his hands. (Y/N) watched him, a cloud of lustful fog still blocking her as she tried to recover from her high. Her eyes shifted down to Pete’s crotch area, where she noticed the evergrowing buldge.

“Do you want me to return the favor?” she asked, a lazy smile on her face.

Pete smiled back at her and leaned down to kiss her again. “That’s okay babe. You enjoy your bath until it gets cold.”

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed together. “You don’t want me to do anything for you?”

“Well I didn’t say that,” Pete said. “But for now I just want you to unwind. We can fuck later on. I’ll make you forget your entire day then, maybe even your own name if you’re lucky.”

(Y/N) giggled. “I hope I’ll be lucky then.”

She smiled as she watched Pete leave the room to change his clothes. Despite her teasing words, she felt like she was already the luckiest girl in the world to have such an amazing man by her side.

[blu-joons]

When You Get Sleepy ~ The Boyz Reaction

Sangyeon:

As soon as he felt your head rest against his shoulder, Sangyeon knew that you were on the verge of settling down for a good sleep. “Keep your eyes open,” he whispered across to you, “let’s go to bed if you’re tired.”

You reluctantly opened your eyes as they threatened to close, “what about what you’re doing? You’re not tired just yet, are you?”

“No,” he laughed, “but I can play on my phone whilst tucked up in bed, you can’t fall asleep on my shoulder otherwise you’ll wake up with a huge pain in your neck tomorrow morning.”

“It would be worth it though.”

“Y/N,” Sangyeon laughed, shaking his head at how stubborn you were, “I know that if you woke up with a sore neck or back tomorrow you would still blame it on me despite me telling you not to fall asleep here.”

Your head shook, “I can’t believe you’d accuse me of such a thing Sangyeon.”

“I know you too well,” he replied, poking against your cheek, “it’s bed for you, whether you want to argue or not with me.”

“Fine, I guess going to bed wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.”

Jacob:

With the movie coming to an end, and the night drawing in, Jacob’s eyes looked down to you in his lap, only to see your eyes closed. “Y/N?” He questioned, gently shaking you awake, “the film is finished if you want to sleep?”

Your head shook as you curled in further towards his lap, “I’m too tired to move, I’m happy just sleeping here, it’s nice and comfortable too.”

“It might be comfortable for you,” he laughed, shaking you again as you tried to close your eyes, “I’ll carry you up to bed if you want, but we’ll both regret staying here for the whole night.”

“Will you really carry me?”

“Of course,” he replied, sliding out from underneath you, “just stay where you are and I’ll have you tucked up in bed in no time,” he added, placing his hands underneath your body, carefully lifting you up in the air.

Your hands instantly landed against his chest, “you’re so strong.”

“I know,” he smugly laughed, making sure you were settled before he started walking, “and I didn’t even disturb you too.”

“You were effortless, and my eyes are still shut too.”

Younghoon:

The moment that you curled around Younghoon’s arm; he knew exactly what was happening. “Getting tired?” He quizzed as your footsteps began to slow on the long walk back from the studio to your home.

Your head nodded as Younghoon held onto you for support, “all I want to do is sleep, and there’s still so far ahead of us to go yet.”

“Why don’t you sleep on my back?” He offered, stopping the two of you in the middle of the path, “it’s not that far, I can piggyback you that short distance, and you can have a good rest too.”

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“Why not?” He chuckled, leaning down in front of you so that you could hop on, “it’ll get us home a lot quicker too, I know exactly what you’re like when you’re tired, your feet barely go in front of one another.”

Your eyes looked down at his back, “are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Of course,” he assured, grabbing onto your legs as you hopped onto his back, “just make sure that you hold on really tight.”

“Just be careful, I’m trying to sleep up here now.”

Hyunjae:

The pout on your face was all that Jaehyun needed to see to know what you wanted, opening his arms out for you to walk into. “If you’re tired, go to bed,” he suggested as you made yourself comfortable against him.

Your head shook as he pressed a kiss against the top of your head, “I want to go to bed with you, not by myself, it’ll be too lonely.”

“I’ll be done soon,” he promised you as he continued to track the download of his work on the screen, “and then I promise that I’ll be yours for the rest of the night to cuddle.”

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

“Fifteen minutes,” he estimated, smiling as your grip around him tightened. “I’ll take that as a sign that you’re happy to wait fifteen minutes?” He questioned, unsurprised when your head nodded back at him.

You smiled gently, “I don’t want to let go of you now too.”

“You might have to let go so I can change into something comfortable,” Jaehyun tried to tell you, but your head shook in reply.

“Find a way to do it so that I don’t have to let go.”

Juyeon:

A soft sigh came from you as you found Juyeon sat in the spare bedroom, walking up behind as soon as you could and wrapping your arms around him. “What’s wrong?” He asked, pausing his game to look back at you.

You smiled weakly as you met his eyes, “I was just feeling a little sleepy, so I thought I’d come and see what you were up to.”

“Did you?” He questioned, raising his eyebrows, “so I guess you would be alright if I said that I hoped you had a good nap and then went back to playing my game, without napping with you?”

“You know what I really meant.”

“You want me to come and nap with you?” He asked, although he already knew what the answer was. “You should have just said,” he joked, smiling widely as your eyes widened back at him too in surprise.

Your eyes glared across at him, “I can still learn to hate you, you know?”

“You could never hate me,” he smiled, taking his headphones off, “come on, I guess I can spare half an hour to nap with you?”

“Half an hour? I’m not letting you go that easily.”

Kevin:

His smile instantly grew as Kevin looked down to see your head resting in his lap, your eyes staring up at him. “Yes?” He smiled, knowing straight away that you had a look on your face that wanted something.

You hummed back up at him, “I’m tired,” you whispered, grabbing onto both of his hands, “and I think that you are too.”

“I don’t think I am,” he laughed in reply, “I think I’m wide awake right now, but I also think that someone wants me to be sleepy so that I can go upstairs and nap with them, am I right?”

“Please, I want to cuddle you.”

“And what do I get from it?” He teased, unable to stop himself from laughing as a frustrated pout appeared on your face, “because I’m rather comfortable sat here, and I’m enjoying watching this programme as well.”

You sighed loudly, “I’ll do whatever you want, if you just come and nap with me.”

“Whatever I want?” He questioned, making sure that he’d heard you right, “you might end up regretting that you know?”

“I won’t, for once I will literally do whatever just to get a cuddle.”

New:

The feeling of your head resting against his back as he cooked instantly caught Chanhee’s attention, glancing back at you. “Why don’t you get some sleep before dinner?” He suggested as he noticed your eyes close.

Your arms instead snaked around his waist, “can I just sleep here and follow you around? You won’t know that I’m even here.”

“I’m pretty sure a nap on the sofa would be much more comfortable,” he tried to suggest, but your head shook back at him, “how am I supposed to cook with you holding onto me too?”

“That sounds like something you should figure.”

“It’ll be you that goes hungry,” he continued to tease, purposefully walking you past the pan so that you could smell what was cooking. “It’s one of your favourites too, I’d hate for you to miss out on eating it Y/N.”

Your head shook against him, “have I ever told you how much I hate you teasing?”

“You might have mentioned it once or twice,” he continued to joke, “but it’s just another reason why I find you so adorable.”

“Fine, you win, I guess I’ll nap on the sofa so then I can eat.”

Q:

It was game over for Changmin as soon as your head rested against his shoulder as you struggled to fight off the persistent urge to sleep. “Y/N,” he whispered, knowing that you’d heard him as you made yourself comfortable.

As he repeated himself, your head shook, refusing to acknowledge him. “I can’t hear you,” you replied with a gentle laugh.

“Really?” He mused, running his hand along your side, “I’ll soon make you hear me,” he assured you, waiting for just a moment before he began to attack against your side with his hand.

“Ouch! Changmin, I’m trying to sleep.”

“You can’t sleep on me,” he frowned as you sat yourself back upright, “as much as I love cuddling you to sleep, doing it on the sofa is not the way to go, why don’t we head to bed instead, it’ll be more comfortable.”

You sighed softly, “my legs feel like they might fall off if I walk now Changmin.”

“I guess that just means I’ll have to carry you then,” he grinned, standing up from the sofa before scooping you up, “how’s that?”

“Suddenly I don’t feel so sleepy anymore.”

Juhaknyeon:

Once the door was shut, your head rested straight into Haknyeon’s shoulder as you drove away from the arena. “I knew you were tired earlier,” he frowned as your eyes closed, curling into his side for extra comfort.

Your head nodded back at him, “I just said that I wasn’t tired so you wouldn’t make me go home, I was enjoying watching you film.”

“You should have come a different day if you were tired,” he scolded in a whisper, “the fact that you came all the way over here to bring food for us all was kind enough, you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to come and see you.”

“Next time nap first,” he laughed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, “you’re working hard at work right now and coming straight onto a loud and busy set is doing you no favours, you can’t keep your eyes open now.”

You hummed in reply, “that’s because I’m just so comfortable when I’m with you.”

“Nice save,” he scoffed, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “as soon as we get home, you’re going to bed, you need rest.”

“I’ll only go if you promise that you’ll come and rest with me.”

Sunwoo:

As soon as he was greeted when he said your name, Sunwoo knew that he found himself in trouble. “Don’t sleep there,” he frowned as he saw the way in which your body bent to wrap against his side tightly.

After debating for some time, Sunwoo eventually began to shake you away gently. “What?” You murmured as you began to stir.

“Bedtime,” he announced, chuckling at the groan that followed from you. “I know you’re comfortable, but I promise you right now that you won’t be comfortable in the morning.”

“I’ll survive, I don’t want to move.”

“I know,” he sympathised, “but the movie finished, even though I think you slept through most of it, and I don’t think there’s too much point to putting something else on when you’re just going to sleep through it again.”

Your head nodded, “put something else on, then you have to leave me here.”

“That’s not happening,” Sunwoo sighed, “I’m taking you up to bed whether you like it or not, on your feet or in my arms too.”

“In your arms? I wouldn’t complain about that.”

Eric:

The second he noticed you beginning to sway, Youngjae raced to your side, allowing your body to relax against his side. “You should have said that you were tired,” he sighed across at you, “you could’ve fallen.”

Your head shook as he wrapped his arm around you for support, “I didn’t want to be a distraction whilst you’re trying to work.”

“You’re never a distraction,” he frowned, studying your fluttering eyes closely, “why don’t I take you back to the dressing room for a while and you can nap on the sofa whilst we rehearse.”

“But I don’t want to miss it.”

“You won’t,” he chuckled, slowly walking you away from the stage, “if you nap now then you’ll be wide awake for the show later on tonight. I’d much rather than you awake to see that anyway then the rehearsal.”

Your head nodded, “will you wake me up, so I don’t miss it whilst I’m napping?”

“Absolutely,” he assured you, “although I’m sure the noise of all the boys will wake you up well in advance, they’re never quiet.”

“I know, that’s why sleep on the tour bus last night was a no.”

---

Masterlist

[peaceisadirtyword]

Summer in Kattegat

Hello!! Finally I can show you what I’ve been working on for the past two months 🥰 This was an idea I had for Christmas, but I didn’t have time to do it and I realized there was too many fics to fit them in 2 weeks, so I decided to do it for summer instead, there's more time and it kind of fits the vibe much better in my opinion! 

please don’t judge me I literally did this at 4am

And what’s the idea? While writing my fic for the Vikings Big Bang, I found a notebook I have where I wrote short stories inspired by Taylor Swift songs (I just reimagined the story she was telling in narrative). I reread them and even wrote a few more. I thought it would be nice to share them with someone so I turned them into fanfics! And all of them have certain similarities: they’re set in a Modern!AU, in which Kattegat is a small city in southern Norway during summer. There’s different stories with different plots and all of them have an ending. For now I'm writing for Ivar, Hvitserk and Ubbe, but I do have an idea with Björn and I might manage to find another one for Sigurd. And all of them are reader insert (sorry! I know most of you hate it, but I really didn’t have time to create an OC for each story😭) 

And all of them will have very ugly moodboards made by ME! did you see what I did there? like the one you can see up there 😭

Does this mean I won’t post anything else during this summer? Nope. I still need to post an one shot called Deal which is an Ivar&Hvitserk/Reader (👀), I need to continue Back To You and other series and I might drop other things too!

Can someone else post things for this project too? Absolutely🥺 In fact, I thought of making this a challenge, but I didn’t want it to flop😭 So I’m giving you all the chance to post your own Summer in Kattegat works! Whether it’s art, fics... Anything! There’s only one rule: it has to be set in summer (vikings era, modern or any other AU you’d like). That’s it! When you post it, I’ll add it to the main masterlist! 

When and how often am I going to post? If everything goes well tomorrow I will post the first one. I still don’t know whether it will be Ubbe/Reader or Hvitserk/Reader, whichever I finish editing first! And I will try to post very often! I have a couple of trips planned for this summer so I’ll make sure to leave them scheduled in case I can't post!😌

Am I back to writing? Yes, I think so😭 I’m not going to lie, I had some rough months and I thought ugly things :( suddenly I didn’t want to write, read, watch films or series, go out with friends... I only wanted to stay in bed all day, and I practically had to force myself to do things, which left me exhausted. I was a bit burnt out and I realized I had to stop for a while before I ended up hating it. Until now! I can’t say whether I’m fine or not because it depends of the day, but I’m much better than I was three months ago. I had time to process everything, including my surgery, the treatment (which is being a nightmare tbh), all the changes in my life... So yeah, it’s a start!

Do I love Ivar with my entire heart? Yes.

I don’t know what else I can say! The titles for the three firsts fics are Enchanted (Ubbe), Style (Hvitserk) and The Way I Loved You (Ivar). These will be the first ones I post🥰 

I’ll shut up now! Thank you if you read all of this, I hope there's at least one person excited about this! That’s more than enough for me❤️ See you tomorrow! 

BTW! the taglists: I’ll use the ones I already have, but if you want to be tagged in this project specifically just tell me!🥰

THANK YOU AGAIN💕

[flosbelova]

Mine

Florence Pugh x Actress!Reader

summary: You’re a lead actress in a movie and one of your male co-stars keeps on flirting with you. You tell your girlfriend, Florence, about it and she insists on showing him who you belong to.

warnings: implied sexual themes (?)

word count: 1.6k+

After auditioning for countless roles, you were finally called back by one and was offered the lead role. You and Florence screamed at the top of your lungs and celebrated after hearing the news from your agent. 

It’s your first day of rehearsals and you’re finally getting to meet your co-stars. Your co-star, Ryan, was given the male lead. He’s a tall guy and pretty muscular. His jawline was sharp and had a pointed chin. His smile was one of the nicest smiles you’ve ever seen. However, all of his nice physical features went away as he came up to you.

“Hey, I’m Ryan, you must be Y/n. I’ll be playing one of your love interests,” he says, his arm rubbing against yours.

Your body instinctively moved away from him. You forced a smile. 

“Hi, nice to meet you,” you managed to say.

“Um, so after rehearsals,” he says, putting an arm around your shoulder, “do you wanna grab a drink?” he smiles.

You take a deep breath. “No thank you, I have a girlfriend,” you say as you take his arm off your shoulders. 

“Well, what she doesn’t know won’t kill her,” he says, trying to touch you again.

You caught his hand. “Dude, I already told you ‘no.’”

“Is everything alright here?” One of your female co-stars asked.

You dropped Ryan’s hand and smiled. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

“Um, alright. The director wanted us to start rehearsals.”

“Alright, let me walk with you,” you say walking after her. As you catch up to her, you whisper a quick “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she whispers back.

-

Finally after a long day of rehearsals, you’re back home. 

“Y/N!” Florence exclaims, “you’re back! I made pizza!”

The sound of excitement coming from your girlfriend should have been enough to calm you down, but this time it wasn’t. You were so uncomfortable from your day that you had no energy left for your favorite girl.

Sitting on your couch, staring at the blank TV, your girlfriend nudges you. You didn’t bother to look at her. You wanted to be alone.

Florence takes a deep breath. “Okay, I guess we’re having dinner in the living room,” she says to herself as she places the tray of pizza on the coffee table. She grabs you a slice of pizza and hands it to you.

“I’m not hungry,” you say, pushing away the plate.

Florence takes another deep breath. “Alright, do you want anything to drink?”

“No. I don’t want anything,” your voice rose. “Please leave me alone!”

Florence flinched as you yelled at her. Her eyebrows furrowed and her frown was visible.

“Y/n, please, calm down. Talk to me,” she says in a calming tone.

“I just told you I don’t want to talk!” You utter loudly. Out of annoyance, you get up and go into your shared bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

Florence cleaned up the living room and put the pizza inside the refrigerator. She wiped her hands on her apron and took it off. She sniffled and wiped the tears that she didn’t even realize was there. She went towards the bedroom door and hesitated on opening it. Instead, she knocked.

“Y/n, I’m going in. This is my room too,” she says, opening the door.

You take a deep breath. You were laying on your side, facing away from her. You felt the bed dip behind you as your girlfriend crawled onto bed. Florence wrapped arms around you.

“I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what’s going on.”

You sigh and sit up on the bed. “Fine.”

You proceed to tell Florence about your unfortunate, eventful day on set. You told her about Ryan and how he kept coming up to you, flirting with you, and finding reasons to touch you. And you mentioned the fact that he even tried asking you out.

Of course, Florence was heated. Her frown was visible, her eyebrows furrowed, and her ears were red. She shared your anger. And she felt threatened. How Ryan dares to take her girlfriend from her. Florence came up with a solution.

“I’m coming with you to set tomorrow,” she says, taking a deep breath.

“What? No. It would make things worse,” you protest.

“It won’t. I promise you. I need to have a chat with him,” she says sternly.

Florence is the type of person who will stand her ground and stand up for the people she loves. She also hates it when people try to take her favorite person away from her.

“I don’t want him trying to take you away from me,” Florence confesses.

“Honey, I promise you, no one can ever take me away from you,” you reassure her. 

You lean in and press a soft kiss against her lips. She kisses back, this time with more passion. She slips her tongue inside your mouth and explores, tasting every bit of you. You pull away to catch your breath and Florence straddles your lap. Holding your face in her hands, she looks at you, admiring you and thinks about how lucky she is to have you.

“What?” you ask as you look into her green eyes.

“Nothing, I’m just admiring my beautiful girlfriend,” her smile growing bigger, “and how lucky I am to have her.” She plants a soft kiss on your lips and rests her forehead against yours.

“I should be the one saying that,” you respond. “I’m very lucky to have you, Flo.”

“Well, let me show you how lucky you are to have me,” Florence says as she lays you on your back.

-

The next day came quickly. Florence came with you to set as she said she would. She held your hand as you walked towards craft service. And to your luck, Ryan was there. When Ryan saw you, he smiled, but it quickly disappeared as he saw Florence kissing you on your cheek. 

As you and Florence sit in your chairs, ready to eat, Ryan comes up to the both of you.

“Hi, Y/n!” He greets you with a big smile. “Hi, I’m Ryan, I’m a BIG fan!” He exclaims to Florence.

You look at Florence and she forces a smile and greets him. “Hi Ryan, Y/n here has told me a lot about you,” she says, her smile slowly disappearing.

Ryan chuckles nervously, “All good, I hope.”

Florence fakes a laugh. “Um, if you don’t mind, Y/n and I are trying to eat our meal before her day begins.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I understand. It was so nice meeting you, and Y/n, I’ll see you on set.”

As Ryan walks away, Florence turns to look at you. “Wow, that’s a disappointment.”

You nod in agreement.

- 

“Alright, my love. I’ll be here. Break a leg!” Florence says to you as the director calls you to your spot. You give Florence a quick kiss, and run to your place.

Shooting went on smoothly. To your surprise, Ryan seemed to have backed off. It was a nice feeling and you were able to get through your day without having to worry if Ryan was gonna come up to you and flirt with you in between scenes.

The day came to an end very quickly as the director wrapped filming for the day. Florence was nowhere to be found, so you checked your phone. 

I had to go to the restroom. I’ll be out in a sec.

“Y/n!” Ryan calls out, “Can I talk to you?”

You sigh and think to yourself, “my day was going so well.”

“Hey, uh, I didn’t know that Florence Pugh was your girlfriend,” he says.

“Yes, is there a problem with that?” you tilt your head.

“No, I just didn’t realize she would date someone as boring as you,” he laughs.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Florence says from behind him, making him turn.

“I said, I can’t believe that you would date someone as boring as Y/n,” He repeats. “Why don’t you break up with her? I could show you a good time.” 

Florence looked like she was about to punch him. She would if she could, but it would only make things so much worse.

“I don’t think your penis will be enough to satisfy me,” she begins, “besides, Y/n already showed me a 'good time,’” she says, grabbing your hand.

“Oh yeah?” he scoffs. “When?”

Florence smiles and looks at you, then looks back at Ryan. “Last night,” Florence looks back at you and licks her lips. She leans in to kiss you and turns your body around so that it faces hers. As Florence kisses you, she opens her eyes and looks straight into Ryan’s eyes. As you both pull away, Florence looks at you and back at Ryan.

You turn around and see Ryan bright red.

Florence lets go of you and walks towards Ryan. “Now, I better not hear another complaint from Y/n about you ever again or else I’m getting you fired.”

Ryan looks defeated and nods. “I’m sorry Y/n,” he says.

You flip him off as you and Florence walk away.

“Thank God I don’t end up with his character,” you say, earning a chuckle from Florence.

As you get to your car, you reach to open the door for Florence but she stops you. Instead she pins you under her. You wrap your arms around her waist as she wraps her arms around your neck. 

“You’re mine and mine only,” she says.

“I’m forever yours, Flo,” you respond.

You kiss her softly. She kisses back and runs her fingers through your hair. Florence deepens her kiss as if she’s hungry for more of you. Your bottom lip is caught in between her teeth and you slip a soft moan. This causes Florence to pull away. Catching your breaths, she looks at you with a smirk on her face.

“Let’s go home. I wanna show you a good time.”

The End

[jaehyunspeachparty]

daddy jaehyun

iv.lxxiii. (m)

You couldn't be calm that day. You run up and down in the house. Even the kids couldn't distract you. "Mummy, play," Sunoh said, holding out his arms. The twins were just asleep and Miga was at school. "Okay, shall we play with the cars?" It was his last day with you. From tomorrow he would go to the new kindergarten with Chichi. "So my big boy, let's play a little." You pick him up, even if Jaehyun didn't like it that much, and you go to his toy box. You then play a little, but you were constantly distracted. You always had to think of Jaehyun, that he was kissing another woman today. Someone younger and prettier. "Mummy, you have to drive the car," Sunoh said when he realized you weren't paying attention. "Yes, I'm sorry, my big one." You felt guilty and tried to concentrate, but it was so difficult for you.

Jaehyun was just on set and it was time to shoot the last kissing scene. He tries to take it all very professionally, but Minu reacts exactly the opposite. She clung to him, laughing at every word he said. She pretended to be his girlfriend that day and that annoyed Jaehyun. All he has to do is manage one kiss, then it would be over and he wouldn't be back as an actor anytime soon. He was already looking forward to spending time with his family again and spending a lot of time with his new daughter. "Okay Jaehyun. I need a little more of you. A little more passion." The director wasn't that keen on Jaehyun's acting. "Okay ...", Jaehyun said quietly and tried to concentrate. He just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. When the "go" came and the crew wwas filming again, Jaehyun tried to do his best. He felt Minu's hands, but decided not to touch them. He just leaned down and closed his eyes. He tried to imagine that she was you. But it did not work. She smelled different, her lips were different, she tasted different. He didn't like it. He hated it. "AAAAAAAND CUT," called the director and the scene was over. "That was perfect." Jaehyun was relieved that it was finally over. He couldn't have endured it again. After the shoot was over, Jaehyun sat down with his manager to discuss further appointments. Jaehyun wanted to take back his appointments as much as possible. After all that, he wanted to be at home to support you with the children. He knew it wouldn’t happen right away, but now that the drama filming was almost over, he could be more at home again. "Hey." The drama stylist came up to the two men and sat with them. Her look was a little worrying and she turned to the manager. "Can I talk to you?" She asked seriously and the man nodded. The two got up and walked a few steps away from Jaehyun. At first he thought nothing and just looked at his phone, but then he heard certain key words. "You have to be careful, she talks so much rubbish," said the stylist. "It can't be that bad," said the manager. "I tell you she's crazy. She tells everyone they are in love." "Okay, I'll take care of it." The manager gently stroked the stylist's arm and sat down next to Jaehyun. He said nothing but went through the appointments. At first Jaehyun thought about saying something, but then he read it because he just wanted to go home.

When Jaehyun came home that evening, the children were sleeping ...again. He hated leaving the house when the children were asleep and that he would come home when the children were asleep again. He felt he would never see them. "Are you still awake?" He whispered and lay down in bed with you. "Yeah, I couldn't sleep," you say and turn onto your back. You put your hand on your belly and smile. "Hi," he said gently and kissed you, but you taste something strange. "Have you been drinking?" You were surprised, because he didn't seem drunk. "After the kissing scenes, I washed my mouth out with vodka," he said and laughed. "Haha was it that bad?" You ask him and you had to laugh too. You were relieved that it was over now. "Yeah, and I never want to do it again. From now on, those lips are yours only." He kissed you again and this time the vodka taste didn't bother you so much. "I missed you," you say quietly and look at him. "I missed you too." He stroked your cheek and stared at you for a while. It was nice to just have the time with him. It has become so rare to be alone with him. And in the next moment his hand was already on your body, stroking your shoulder and massaging your breasts. It became quiet between you and all you hear is only your breath and the smacking of his kisses. It was so good to feel him again. Even if you are always horny during your pregnancies, you hardly had any more time for sex. The children and Jaehyun's work made it very difficult for your love life. But today, that night, it was different. You were able to love each other that night. And when you lie on your side and you feel its length sliding into you, you close your eyes and smile. It felt so good. He felt so good. His hands grabbed your breasts and you dig into your cushion. It was perfect, his movements and his dick. You start to moan, but you could also hear his breathing getting louder. With every movement, your body began to shake, your legs vibrated, and your vision became blurry. "Yes, that's good," you whisper and feel your orgasm coming. Jaehyun increased the pressure by placing his fingers on your clit and massaging it with circular movements. You reach your climax and feel like your whole body is fully supplied with blood. But even Jaehyun couldn't hold it back much longer and with jerky movements you can feel the warm liquid running out of you. "Wow that was quick," he said and you lie down on your back again. "If there's anything we've perfected since we became parents, it's that we have good sex incredibly quickly." You laugh and put your hands on your stomach. "That's right. But maybe we'll travel away again. Before the little one comes. Just to have long and extensive sex again," suggested Jaehyun and also touched your belly. After sex, your girl was awake and moving in your stomach. "That sounds really great. When you are done with the shooting?" You ask and Jaehyun nodded. "Then we'll go away for a few days ..:" He kissed you and you slowly close your eyes with a smile.

daddy jaehyun masterlist

[ignitedbynatsu]

He Makes You Feel Insecure ~ Rogue

A/N: let it be known that I finally managed to update at the deadline I set myself 🥳 I'm so sorry I was gone this past week but college was getting hella busy so I had to focus on that this past week but I'm backkk. Thanks to everyone who stuck around, I missed you all and can't wait to get to the requests ❤️

Genre: angst to fluff

Warnings: swearing, insecurities (he makes you feel too childish)

Other versions:

Gray ~ Laxus ~ Cobra/Erik ~ Bickslow ~ Gajeel ~ Natsu ~ Jellal ~ Freed ~ Sting

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

A loud crash could be heard followed by your and Sting's laughter filling the guild. You quickly fled the scene and hid behind Rogue while stifling your laughter.

You had played the oldest prank in the book on Minerva. A water bucket on a half-open door. You'll never understand how the brilliant mage fell for that one, but she did, resulting in you hiding from her wrath.

"(Y/N)! Sting!" Minerva screeched as the water dripped down her hair.

"We're sorry Minerva-san, we just couldn't pass the opportunity" you apologize on your and Sting's behalf, but it was nowhere near sincere As you both were still doing everything in your power to not burst out in laughter. It wasn't even that funny, but to you and Sting it was hilarious.

"I swear I'm dating a child" the annoyance that was latched on to the words made you immediately stop laughing. Surely he didn't mean for it to come out that harsh, right?

"I'm sorry, what was that" a soft smile still playing on your lips, but that was quickly wiped off when you met his cold gaze.

"I said that you're fucking childish, (Y/N). It was bad enough having Sting act this way, but with you encouraging him and even joining him? I feel like I'm in a fucking daycare. Grow up, will you" Sting laughter also died down as he saw his friend take his frustrations out on you. "Hey, man, that's not cool-"

"No, Sting, it's fine. I- uh- I'll see you all tomorrow" even Minerva shook her head in disappointment as she observed your slumped shoulders as you left the guild. She didn't miss the tears starting to form either.

The rest of the day everyone felt that they were walking on eggshells around Rogue, not daring to get on his bad side. They felt bad for you. Sure you could be a little annoying with all the pranks you pulled, but they all knew it was just good fun. You never meant any harm and just wanted to make the guild feel a little more like home.

That homeyness that you seemed to bring everywhere you went, was gone the next day. Your usual colourful outfits were replaced by dull grey and black clothes. They even were certain that they hadn't seen you crack a smile once that day.

"Hey, (Y/N)! I got this amazing idea for a prank and-" you interrupted Sting before he could elaborate his grand idea "thank you, Sting, but I'll have to decline."

You had never refused a prank before, nor had he ever heard you talk that formal "that's it"

You raised an eyebrow at him as he stormed off to God knows where.

You hated turning him down. After all, you had been itching all day to break this facade, but it was for the best. It'll pay off in the long run you kept telling yourself. After all, you couldn't imagine a world where you'd have to live without Rogue. So if that meant you'd have to change your personality a little bit, you wouldn't even hesitate to make that sacrifice.

Meanwhile, Sting had left to go find Rogue. He knew that his best friend was the only one who could put an end to this "is this what you wanted?"

"I have no clue what you are talking about" Rogue replied as he turned around to meet the fuming blonde.

"You seriously don't see how miserable you made (Y/N)?" He scoffed as Rogue looked around to spot you. It took him some time as he did not expect you to wear something so... Colourless. "You haven't even spoken to her today, have you?"

"I decided that I was way out of line yesterday and that I should give her some time" he explained. Did you really think you needed to change just to please him?

"How kind of you" Rogue was surprised by the sweet words coming out of Sting's mouth, but when he turned back to the said boy he was met by a harsh glare "now go fix it"

"What if I make it worse" the guilty was slowly eating him alive as he dared to steal another glance at you.

"You can't possibly make it worse than it already is" Sting dismissed his insecurities

"Fro thinks so too!" Rogue's head snapped towards the Exceed "Frosch?"

"It's three against one here" Lector also piped up as the three stared at him expectingly.

The raven-haired sighed, knowing he should do something to fix his mistakes, so he took a deep breath, gathered all his courage and headed towards his girlfriend. He never thought he'd feel this scared again to talk to you.

"(Y/N)... Can we talk?" He wanted to sound confident but when you looked at him and not even spared him a small smile, he felt like he wanted to sink back into the shadows.

"Of course, what is it you'd like to talk with me about?" Rogue cringed how smooth your tone was. No unnecessary intonation, no shouting, no expression. Everything was dull and blank.

"Why are you acting like this" your eyes went wide for a second. Were you still not living up to his expectations? Was it too little? Too much? You had no clue.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you are talking about" you replied swiftly, covering up any traces of emotions you had just shown. "Did you not want me to stop acting like a child?"

"Yes, but-" "and is what I'm doing not exactly that what you asked me to do?" "Yeah... But-" Rogue was getting frustrated, but he knew he had no right to snap at you again.

"Then I don't see the relevance of this conversation. I'll be heading home now. I'll see you tomorrow" with that you placed a kiss on his cheeks and headed back out of the guild.

Rogue's attempts at covering up his frustration were in vain as you could read him like an open book. Afraid to get yelled at again you hastily decided to head back home. Ready to scream or punch something just to get your own frustrations out.

After the failed attempts of him making it up to you, you managed to put up your facade for a week, until one day you just didn't show up. You didn't notify Sting or Rogue in advance, which you normally do, you were just too tired to deal with anyone.

"Has (Y/N) told you she wasn't coming today?" Rogue's anxiety was through the roof. He nearly burned a whole town to the ground when he lost Frosch. Imagine what he'd do if he didn't know where you, his significant other was. "No"

"I'm going to her house" with that Rogue left in an attempt to find you. Luckily for him, you were indeed just at your house.

Your stomach dropped at the sound of someone knocking at your door. You were tired, no, exhausted even. You hated that you had to pretend that you were someone that you're not, but it was all for a good cause you kept telling yourself, and yet you couldn't muster the energy to keep up that facade.

"(Y/N)? Please tell me your home" your heart broke at the sound of his voice. The worry and desperateness were caused because of you. Once again you were not good enough.

You opened the door ever so slightly, just enough, so he could make out that it was in fact you. "Thank God you're here"

"I'm sorry for not giving a heads-up. I promise I'll be back tomorrow" you promised him as you were about to shut the door again, but he stopped you by placing his own hand against the door.

"(Y/N), please, we need to talk" you contemplated for a minute, weighing the pros and the cons "please"

You slowly opened the door further as a signal for him to come in.

The sight in front of him shattered his heart. Your eyes were red and puffy. Your figure was completely slouched and your arms were wrapped around your middle, hugging yourself, in an attempt to shield yourself away from.

"I'm sorry I probably look like a cry baby right now-" he stopped you before you could finish your excuse "hey, no, none of that"

"I want to tell you something and I need you to listen without you interrupting me, okay?" You nodded your head at his request and waited patiently as he continued. "First and foremost I'd like to apologize for my behaviour last week. I shouldn't have worked out my frustration on you and I shouldn't have attacked you like that."

You nodded your head at his apology "second, I want you to know that you should never change your personality. Especially not for me. I love you, (Y/N). And when I say that, I mean every piece of you. Your good and your bad traits. If fell in love with you for who you are, and not the person you've been portraying as the last week."

"Please go back to your old self. I'd rather have a childish person as my girlfriend than a fraud that's clearly exhausted by putting on a facade. I really am sorry for making you feel like you had to change for me" by now you were full-on crying. Maybe it was because of Rogue's kind words, maybe it was because of the exhaustion, maybe a bit of both. All you cared about now was being in his arms and feeling loved.

"It's okay" you whispered as placed your head on his chest as he planted a kiss on your head.

"It really isn't. That's why I'd like to make it up to you" you broke the hug to look up at him as a mischievous glint was sparkling in his eyes "how about we prank Sting?"

"I'd love to, but for now let's just watch a film and cuddle" you smiled at his idea as you had never pranked Sting before since you always prank others together.

"Anything for you, princess" that's how you spend the rest of your evening in each other's arms, with him reassuring you every once in a while that he loves you and that you should never change.

[hangovercurse]

Live from New York

You’re hosting SNL and get close with one of the cast members

Request: “hi! can you do something about pete where the reader is hosting snl and throughout the week they’re flirting with each other but she’s unsure if they should date and he convinces her? maybe a combo of fluff/angst/smut? it can be whatever :,)”

Pete x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: I told myself I wasn’t going to take that long on this one and then I ended up watching an entire documentary on the making of an SNL episode because I wanted to be as accurate as possible… someone stop me pls

Word Count: 2834

Monday

Despite being a swiftly rising actress, you hated being the enter of attention. You’d always gotten anxious as a kid when a teacher made you stand in front of the class for presentations or during first-day introductions. So being front and center in a room of 30 people who were all there to study and try to impress you was not something you found pleasant.

“Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You spoke timidly to the crowded room, people clapping from their spots on the floor or various couches around the room, “it’s great to be here.”

Lorne cleared his throat, “alright, let’s start with you, Anna.”

You looked around the room as a young woman pitched the first sketch of the night, listening intently to her ideas while trying to match faces with the names Lorne had given you earlier. Then your eyes locked with a pair of deep brown ones, the man wearing a soft smile on his face. He radiated gentle energy despite the tattoos you could see running down his arms.

The pitches continued with an air of lightheartedness and fun. You found nearly everything funny, so you couldn’t even begin to imagine how you were going to cut any of the sketch pitches.

After a lull in ideas, Lorne announced that cast members could now pitch ideas for Weekend Update character appearances. The man you’d taken an interest in earlier, who you’d since learned was named Pete Davidson, pitched a new set of characters for you and him.

“You know those weird stoner kids in high school who were always hanging out in the parking lot and acted really weird and mysterious? Those characters who just give really vague answers to anything you ask and act like they’ve seen some shit when they have the most normal home lives.”

You giggled, knowing the exact kinds of kids he was talking about. Colin and Michael also chuckled, writing the idea down with some notes of their own. Soon after that, everyone went back to pitching regular sketches, Jost and Che pitching an unusual number of sketches featuring you and Pete.

After a few long hours, the session wrapped; everyone leaving the office space except for you and Lorne, “so, what did you think?”

You chuckled lightly, “you have some seriously talented people on this show, Mr. Michaels. I don’t understand how you guys write an entire show every week.”

“We all work very hard; I’ll tell you that. Now, talk to me. Anything you really liked or really hated?”

You shrugged, “you’re the comedy mastermind, I know nothing. But I thought that weird kids from high school bit was pretty funny.”

Lorne nodded, “So did Jost and Che it seems. Sometimes the kid has a good idea.” You giggled at his reference to Pete as “the kid.” He sighed, “anything else? I noticed you liked that proposal sketch.”

“Yeah, that one was super funny. I will say, I wasn’t too in love with the dad-teacher one, but I would have no problem with it being done with someone else as the daughter.”

Lorne and you spent the rest of the workday discussing the different sketch ideas that came up and gauging what type of comedy suited you best. Before you left, he introduced you to Donna, your dresser who would be helping you out throughout the week.

Tuesday

After a quick tour of the studio by Donna, you were given a list of cast members and writers who wanted to meet with you to get ideas about sketches. You first stepped into a small room with a desk and futon, Donna introducing you to Chloe Fineman and Celeste Yim.

Chloe smiled brightly at you, “okay, so we were thinking that we could do something where I bring you to a sleepover with some friends that you don’t know. But at some point, you try to go to sleep because you have a soccer tournament in the morning but everyone else is being loud and it turns into this big overdramatic argument.”

You giggled softly, “I love that!”

After writing with them for a while, you were whisked away to room after room, finally landing in Colin Jost and Michael Che’s office, where they were hunched over a computer with Pete.

Colin smiled at you, “hey Y/N, how’s your day been?”

“Busy, how are you guys?”

The men responded with variations of “good,” before Michael spoke, “I know it’s late, so don’t feel obligated to stay longer than you’re comfortable with.”

You shrugged, “what time is it? It doesn’t feel that late.”

Pete laughed, teasing Colin and Michael, “c’mon guys, don’t you know that the young people of New York don’t sleep?”

You giggled in agreement as Colin frowned, “I’m only 38, that’s not that old.”

“I’m only 26, Colin,” you said, laughing at the men.

Michael patted Colin on the shoulder, “Jost, we’re getting old.”

Colin frowned before clearing his throat, “anyways, we had a couple ideas for some sketches with you and Pete, if you’re up for it, and we wanted to hash out your weekend update appearance.”

You smiled and nodded, “yeah, that sounds great.”

The rest of the night (and into the early morning) was spent with the three men, eventually joined by Heidi Gardner and Kyle Mooney to work them into the scripts. A majority of the writing process was simply messing around with various sketch situations until someone found a joke that worked best.

Pete watched you carefully the entire night, doing everything in his power to make you laugh. You had no complaints, doing your best to not openly flirt with him in front of the rest of the cast (and failing quite miserably).

Wednesday

Wednesday was the designated day for the roundtable readthrough. You took a place between Pete and Lorne, who began the reading, “we’ve got 41 sketches so let’s get started.”

The table read was just like any other you’d been through; Lorne wasting no time between sketches to discuss or joke. You struggled with containing your laughter throughout the reading, trying to act professionally. It didn’t help that Pete was making jokes any chance he got, eliciting even more giggles from you.

The three hours seemed to take no time at all as sketch after sketch was read out loud. Every so often you would catch Lorne looking at you with an eyebrow raised, usually after you read one of the sketches with Pete.

After everyone was dismissed, you were led to Lorne’s office with the head writers and producers. There was a large wall covered in sticky notes with each sketch’s name written on one. Lorne turned to you, “what do you think?”

You scanned the wall, listing off some of the sketches that you really liked, though most of them were  great, so you had trouble narrowing them down.

Lorne let out a small laugh, “you guys noticed how she picked out the sketches with Pete in them, too, right?”

Your face went hot, immediately turning to face the ground. Colin and Michael chuckled, “we noticed,” the latter commented.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, Y/N, just wanted to point it out to you.” Lorne teased before turning back to the wall and thinking.

You giggled, “you guys suck.”

As embarrassed as you were, your anxiety was surprisingly low. You had been worried about hosting since you got the invite, but the cast and crew had been nothing but kind to you. Even just being able to make jokes like this with the writers made you feel oddly comforted.

You worked on narrowing down which sketches to keep for rehearsals and which ones were going to get cut immediately, a job that was very easy for Lorne but very difficult for you.

Eventually you got it down to enough sketches that Lorne was satisfied and he sent out the list to the cast. He led you out of his office, “you know, you have a real affinity for comedy,” he told you. “I don’t know if you’ve ever thought about sketch comedy, but from that read through you seem to know what you’re doing.”

You blushed slightly, thanking him, “we’ll see if you’re still saying that on Saturday.”

He chuckled, “have a good night.” You waved at him as you walked towards the exit, running into none other than Pete Davidson.

“Hey, you headed out?”

You smiled, “yeah, just got out of my meeting with Lorne. Did you get a chance to look at the revised sketch schedule?”

Pete nodded, walking with you to the door of the theater, “yeah, I noticed you kept a lot of our sketches in there,” he bumped your shoulder, a playful smirk on his face.

A giggle rolled from your lips, “what can I say? We’re funny together.”

He raised an eyebrow, watching as you flagged down your taxi, “whatever you say.”

“Are you complaining about having to work with me?” You asked, opening the door.

He chuckled, “oh yeah. I am just dreading tomorrow.” Sarcasm laced his words, making you laugh.

“Goodnight, Pete.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Thursday

Donna ushered you around all day, making sure you were in the rehearsal space when you needed to be and supporting you from the side. This part of the process came naturally to you, as it was the most similar to rehearsing and filming on movie sets.

When you weren’t rehearsing a scene, you were hanging out with Pete. It was strange how easily you got along, your humors aligning almost perfectly. Not to mention he was a huge flirt and was making it more and more obvious with you. You flirted right back, earning looks of amusement from Lorne throughout the day.

The day was a whirlwind, and by the time you were able to go home, you were exhausted. Pete walked you out to the street again, talking about one of the sketches that went wrong earlier until your taxi pulled up. This time he opened the door for you and helped you inside, “see you tomorrow.”

You smiled up at him, “bright and early.”

Friday

After hours of rehearsing, you plopped onto the couch in Pete’s dressing room, where you had found yourself a home over the past few days, “I don’t know how you guys do this every week. I’ve been here for four days and I’m exhausted.”

Pete chuckled, “to be fair, you’re the host. The key is to try and only get one sketch into the show so that you don’t have to do anything during the week.”

You laughed, letting a comfortable silence fall over you. Pete studied you, taking in your tired appearance, “you’re doing great though, being a host. I’ve seen some people come in and try to take control of everything and then no one has fun. You’re really good at just letting the comedy speak for itself. Not many people do that.”

Shrugging, you responded, “I mean, I’m not a comedian, I’m just an actor. You guys come up with everything. I don’t know enough to try and control things around here, I just do what I can to make your visions come to life. I figured that’s what a host should do.”

Pete nodded, “yeah, but again, a lot of people want their SNL episode to look a certain way. You don’t seem to care.”

“I just want to have fun, honestly.”

He smirked, “are you?”

You looked up to him with a smile on your face, “definitely.”

Suddenly the speaker in the room rang out, “Y/N and Pete to main stage 1.”

Groaning, you lifted yourself from the couch, Pete watching you with amusement, “c’mon Ms. Host, we’ve got a show to rehearse.”

Saturday

The day was hectic; filled with rehearsal after rehearsal. Lorne and Donna made sure that you were comfortable all day, but you could feel the stress radiating from every inch of the studio.

Stronger than that, though, was the sense of excitement buzzing around everyone. You were fit into more costumes than you could count, all leading up to the final dress rehearsal of the night in front of the live studio audience.

Dress ran smoothly, but you could see Lorne cutting lines from sketches from stage out of the corner of your eye. Luckily, Pete distracted you from all the anxious energy. “I know Lorne looks like a psychopath, but that’s just what he does. Everything’s fine, don’t stress about it,” he said over dinner.

You chuckled, “thanks. I feel so out of my league this week.”

“I told you, you’re great. Everyone here loves you. I heard Lorne talking about wanting you back as soon as possible.”

Rolling your eyes, you responded, “yeah right, I’m never gonna do anything big enough to get me on this show again.”

Pete laughed, “you could always make guest appearances with me on the Weekend Update.”

“You aren’t sick of me already?” you joked.

After dinner you were paraded around by Donna, who got you into your style for opening monologue. She smiled at you through your dressing room mirror, “how are you feeling?”

You gave her a nervous smile, “terrified, but ready.”

The lady chuckled, “you’ll do great. I’ll be right offstage if you need anything.”

“Thank you, for everything this week.”

She squeezed your shoulders, “don’t mention it, though if you really want to thank me, go ask that Davidson boy out on a date.”

Your eyes went wide, “Donna!”

A chuckle rang out through the room, “what? I say it for your own good.”

She led you through a maze of hallways and tunnels until you were in place to walk onstage, the speaker announcing your name to the audience followed by cheers.

Exactly 90 minutes later you were gathered with the cast on stage, “thank you to Fletcher, Lorne Michaels, this amazing cast and crew, and thank you all for watching. Goodnight everybody!”

You turned to Pete, who was standing beside you and let him pull you in for a hug, “you did it!” he cheered.

You passed around the cast, giving hugs to as many people as you can before Lorne announced, “that’s a wrap on Y/N Y/L/N and Fletcher!”

Everyone cheered, clapping for you and your musical guest before heading to their dressing rooms to change into their night clothes. You went back to your own dressing room, taking a moment to bask in the feeling of accomplishment.

A knock on your door pulled you out of your haze, “come in!”

Pete entered the room, a wide smile on his face, “congrats!” You let him pull you in for another hug, “so I know that there’s supposed to be this big party after the show, but I was wondering if you’d let me take you to dinner instead?”

Your breath got caught in your throat, those words being the last thing you expected to hear from him. Of course, you wanted to say yes because you did, truthfully, really like him. But part of you was hesitant.

You’d dated your fair share of celebrities, and things always ended very publicly and typically poorly. On top of that, you couldn’t help but feel that this might be happening a bit too quick. You started to doubt that he would still have feelings for you in a week since he wouldn’t be around you nearly all the time.

And then there was the issue of your insane work schedules. Having just lived through his, you weren’t sure if you would be able to keep a relationship like that.

“Pete, I think you’re amazing and I really like you, I just-“

Pete nodded his head, cutting you off, “I know we only met like a couple of das ago, but people go on dates with literal strangers all the time.”

You sighed, “it’s not that, Pete, it’s just that…” you paused, searching for words, “things like this tend to be very public with me, and I really don’t want to have a relationship where there’s all this pressure by the media to be perfect.”

He shrugged, “I get that, but it’s just dinner. And we can go somewhere quiet and private, no one has to know. And if things go further then we’ll just keep it on the down low until you’re ready. Trust me, I know what a public relationship is like, I’m not a huge fan either.”

“Yeah, but what about your work schedule. I mean, I’ve only lived in your world for six days and I want to sleep for a month. How do you even hold a relationship on this schedule?”

Pete moved closer to you, fingers grazing your arm, “we can make it work. I promise. Just give me one date, and if it’s not the best first date of your life, you have no further obligations to me.”

You giggled lightly, leaning into his touch, “I’m only saying yes because you’re kinda cute.”

He smiled down at you, eyes twinkling, I’ll take it.”

[wonder-kid-pugh]

Karma's a bitch - (Emily Sonnett x reader)

This one is slightly different. Reader is a YouTuber with a popular channel called On The Wildside. The chapter switches behind let's say "real life" and then to "recorded clips". So it might be a bit weird and difficult but hopefully it makes sense. Hope you enjoy!!!

"What! Is! Up! My Wilders! Welcome back to the Wildside" I say my intro as I hold up my camera to record myself. I smirk as I spin around as I continue, "And for today's video you are going to see me get my revenge on my girlfriend!"

Along with being a personal trainer for high paying clients, I also run a popular lifestyle and fitness Channel on YouTube which had amassed over a million followers. I usually posted fitness videos and just daily lifestyle vlogs along with soccer challenges with the occasional prank video. It was through my channel I had actually met my girlfriend.

I had gotten in touch with the Portland Thorns to do a video with them for my channel as part of a series I had started, aiming to play all of the NWSL teams in a series of challenges. And she just happened to be one of the players involved in the video.

She was also the one who hit me in the back of the head with a miss kicked soccer ball.

And that's how I met Emily Sonnett.

After that day we kept in touch and with me going to watch her games with the thorns and even meeting up again to do a few more videos with the national team until she eventually asked me out, with much persuasion from her teammates.

And now we have been together for a long time just managing with the long distance. Until she got traded to Washington. And while she was sad to not be at the thorns, on the upside we got to move in together.

Which had both it's positives and negatives.

"So if you have seen the most recent videos or even my Instagram posts. You will know that Em has kinda gone mad with the pranks lately. She got me at Christmas with wrapping my entire office with wrapping paper".

*Emily fumbles with the camera before it eventually focuses on her face*

She gives the camera a toothy smile, "Hey guys!" She starts to walk around causing the camera to blur slightly but can just make our the main image. "So obviously Y/n isn't here today. She's out with a client at the moment and won't be back until later. So I decided to help her get into the Christmas spirit with a little prank".

Flips the camera to show Y/n's office. "So with the help of a few friends" .

*pans the camera to show Kelley and a few other teammates*

"We're going to wrap everything in her room with wrapping paper!"

*Time lapse fast forwarded to show them wrapping her entire room*

"So Y/n is after texting me saying she'll be home soon and she is bringing me dinner which almost makes me feel bad". Emily pauses and looks down the camera, "Almost". She grins at the camera, "So I'm going to set up one of her cameras in her office to film her reaction and yeah hopefully she's like it". She cackles before it transitions to the next clip.

*Shows a clip of Y/n walking into her office only to freeze in the doorway when she sees the room*

Y/n throws her head back with a groan, "Emily!" You can hear the sound of Emily laughing in the background before she appears in the doorway with a wide grin across her face.

"Merry Christmas!" The blonde giggles as Y/n picks up a book that was wrapped. Y/n quirked an eyebrow at her, "You got me everything I already own?"  The camera shakes slightly due to her nodding and laughing, "You get the gift of opening them all over again?"  Y/n sighs before she spots something spherical over the in the corner.

"You wrapped my exercise ball? How?"

"With great difficulty"

Y/n licks her lips too tired to even argue. She tears off the wrapping paper off the chair before sitting down. She groans with her head in her hands before looking up at the blonde holding the camera.

"I hate you so much"

"I love you too".

She slumps in her chair as she looks around the room. "I'm too tired to do anything about this" . She glares back at the blonde, "Why would you even do this?" "Cause I love you?" In response to that Y/n scrunches up the wrapping paper into a ball and throws it at her.

"I'm still pissed at her for that by the way. She used all our wrapping paper and it took me forever to find my stuff she moved" Y/n sighs into the camera. "She also put a load of plastic cups filled with water around our bedroom while I was sleeping. But that ended up backfiring on her".

*A fast forwarded time lapse of Emily covering the floor of their bedroom with cups of water as well as any flat surfaces so Y/n couldn't climb on anything. She holds up 3 fingers and counts down to the camera before blowing an air horn causing Y/n to shot up in the bed*

Y/n peaks her head out from under the blanket only to see Emily giggling with the camera. She looks around confused before spoting all the cups. She groans loudly, "For fuck sake Em". She narrows her eyes at the blonde, "You have way too much free time if this is what your doing".

Y/n grabs a few of the cups and purposely empties them over Emily's stuff. "Hey!" The blonde shouts but Y/n just gives her a look, "What? You come in here and stop me? Be my guest". Emily groans dramatically, "I didn't think this through".

"Did you even think at all?"

"Hurtful"

Y/n clears a few of the cups without making too much of a mess. She sighs as she rubs her eyes, "It's too early for this shit Emily". She points at the defender holding the camera, "I hope you know your cleaning this shit up". Emily chuckles behind the camera.

Y/n looks up on the doorframe where her pull up bar is stuck. She looks between herself and the bar before smirking. "Y/n don't-" Emily starts but it falls on deaf ears. As Y/n bends her knees and make the long jump and grabs onto the bar. Her momentum swings her forward to where Emily is standing.

*In an attempt to soften the hit, Y/n wraps her legs around her waist making sure she doesn't fall. But in doing so she dropped the camera with a grunt causing the screen to blackout*

"And one of the worst ones was when she went away for a match and hid a bunch of alarm clocks around our bedroom which were all set to different times in the morning. Leaving me to wake up every little while to find the bloody things".

*Short clips of Y/n sleeping in the dark bedroom only for an alarm clock to blare causing Y/n to jolt in her sleep. This repeats multiple times showing different clips*

"And ever since then she's has also throw flour bombs at me, woke me up by pouring water all over me and she turned the hallway outside our bedroom into a slip and slide.

*Shows brief clip of  Y/n slipping and falling on her ass*

"So I've decided to give her a taste of her own medicine!" Y/n exclaims to the camera. "So she's coming back late from a game tonight so I'm going to set up a few cameras and pretend to be mad at her and tell her I'm sleeping in the living room".

Y/n smirks at the camera, "One thing you need to know about Emily Sonnett is she loves her cuddles. Especially after a game. She's like a fricken Koala when she sleeps. She just clings onto you". She moves to set the camera down so it has a clear view of the bedroom, "And this is going to set up for my main prank for tomorrow".

"So I'm going to go set up everything. And wait until she gets home". Y/n gives a thumbs up to the camera before it times skips.

*Time has passed to show it's pretty late now. You can hear the jingling of keys before the door opens and closes. Y/n freezes before smiling at the camera and jumps up and starts gathering stuff*

Emily steps in the doorway and drops her bags. But scrunches her face when see her girlfriend isn't asleep and is in fact awake. "Y/n/n? What are you doing?" With an annoyed look on her face, Y/n looked over her shoulder before going back to gathering a blanket and a pillow, "I'm going to sleep in the living room".

Emily looks at her weird, "What? Why?" She moves to grab her hand but Y/n just pulls her arm away, "What's wrong?" Y/n just shrugs her off, "I'm going to sleep on the couch".

Emily crosses her arms upset as Y/n gathers up the last of her things, "Did something happen? Did I do something?" But Y/n just ignores her before shuffling out of the room. Emily curses quietly unaware that there's a camera in the room and that this is all a prank.

After a long sigh Emily pulls out her phone and dials quickly before holding it up to her ear. After a brief minute she starts starting

"Hey Kel did I forget an anniversary?"

*Cuts to the camera set up in their living room which is facing their couch. Y/n has a make shift bed set up as she's scrolling through her phone before she untangles herself from the blankets leaving to go to the bathroom*

After Y/n leaves a minute later you can shuffling off camera before Emily wrapped in blankets comes into view. She pauses at the couch before she jumps and flops on the couch making sure she's wrapped up in her blanket. Completely unknown that this is getting caught on camera.

A few minutes later Y/n comes back with her phone in hand. It swaps to her phones point of view as it shows a close up of Emily's face peaking out from the bundle of blanket. "What are you doing?" Y/n asked desperately trying to fight the small smile coming to her face. But Emily just smiles cutely up at her, "We're sleeping in the living room". Y/n groans quietly, "Noooo". But Emily just keeps smiling, "Together". Y/n shakes her head, "No. I am".

But Emily just ignores her and pulls the blanket back and nods towards her, "C'mon!" Y/n just sighs, "Kay fine. You sleep here and I'll sleep in the bed". Emily almost falls out of the bed trying to stop her, "Nooooo".

They have a mini staring competition before it cuts to the next frame where the two are seen cuddling on the couch with Emily lying on top of Y/n's chest.

"Okay! So last night's prank didn't go exactly how I planned" Y/n starts as she's back holding the camera. "BUT! I have something else planned!" She exclaims.

"So last night was really just meant for her to think I'm mad at her for some reason or another. Which sets up today's prank perfectly" she explains. "So I'm sure many of you have seen this one already but I'm going to put my own twist on it".

"So Emily and Kelley have gone out to train together today and then they're going to come back here to hang out" Y/n starts before smiling down at the camera, "but I'm going to pretend to just come out of the shower". She grins, "Well.... you'll see what happens".

*Camera cuts a clip of the kitchen where Emily and Kelley are. Emily is on her phone by the island while Kelley is looking through their fridge (obviously). Y/n walks in with a towel wrapped tightly around her*

Y/n walks around for a bit before Emily looks up and smiles before going back to her phone. It takes a second before Emily does a double take, eyes widen when she realizes that Y/n is supposedly only walking around in a towel.

"Y/n!" Emily gawked causing Kelley to look over and snort at the sight. Y/n just looks at her girlfriend unbothered, "What?" Emily just looks her up and down motioning to her lack of attire, "Uh!" "What?" Y/n asks frustratedly. "What are you doing?" Emily asked while Kelley just watched on amused.

"Nothing!" Y/n throws her hands up. "Get dressed" Emily says. "Why?" Y/n asks nonchalantly. "Your in a towel!" Emily says angrily. "So what?" Y/n just retorts. "Cause we have company!" Emily argues motioning to Kelley standing at the fridge who just holds her hands up in surrender.

Y/n just shrugs, "So what? It's only Kelley. She doesn't care". "I care! Only I get to see you like this!" Emily shouts angrily. Y/n runs a hand through her hair, "I don't see the problem I'm covered! I'm covered". "I don't care go get changed" Emily says sternly which is a bit weird to see from her usual happy, upbeat persona.

"She's not bothered by it" Y/n defends herself motioning her arm in Kelley's direction. "I'm bothered by it!" Sonnet claps back getting even angrier, "just go put something on".

Hiding her smirk Y/n progresses with the prank, "You know what? You know what? No. Now this". Y/n then turns her back to her girlfriend as she faces Kelley who's eyes widen substantially as Y/n untucks the towel still holding the ending with her hands.

Catching onto the joke, Kelley bursts our laughing which only fuels Emily's rage further as she stands there stunned that her girlfriend would do such a thing. "This is happening" Y/n says throwing a look back at Emily over her shoulder. "Y/n! That's not-" Emily stutters out trying to find the words.

"She's seen me like this before and so have you" Y/n says as Kelley is still gasping for breath as she laughs. "What are you-" Emily starts only to stop when Y/n drops the towel to reveal one of Y/n's dresses which she has pulled down the sleeves to hide underneath the towel.

Emily's jaw drops as Kelley falls into another fit of giggles as she leans against the island. "Gotcha!" Y/n grins. Emily's mouth opened and closed several times but no words came out as she just stuttered unintelligently, "Uh I um?" Y/n moves to pick up the camera and hold it in front of Emily, "Say Hi to the internet Babe".

If at all possible, Emily's cheeks flushed even darker, "You recorded all this?!" Y/n hummed contently, "And last night". Emily leans back against the island and slides down to the floor, "Last night! That was a prank?" Y/n giggles, "Yup!" Emily slumps back, "Thank god! I thought you were pissed at me! I thought I forgot an anniversary or something!"

There is some shuffling and a bit of blurry imagines before it shows Y/n sitting on the ground beside Emily as she grins, "Nah. Just payback for all the pranks you've pulled on me recently". Emily buried her face in her girlfriend's shoulder letting out a small, "I'm sorry" although it came out muffled.

Y/n leans her cheek on Emily's head, "It's okay. But just remember next time you prank me, remember how I got you back". "Emily pouted at her girlfriend, "Fine. No more pranks". Y/n smiled as she pressed a kiss to the top of her blonde crown. But of course Kelley had to interrupt.

"If there is ever a prank war, I'm calling Y/n for my team".

Emily growled at her teammate as she koala hugged her girlfriend's side, "No!" Y/n giggled as she shrugged at Kelley, "Sorry Kels I'm taken". "Damn right you are" Emily mumbles as she presses herself even further into Y/n's embrace.

Y/n smiled as she holds up the camera, "Well that's it for my revenge pranks back on my girlfriend. If you want to see the full videos of Emily's pranks on me, I'll leave them in the description. Comment below for any videos you would like to see". "No more prank videos" Emily whined at the camera causing the other two to laugh before Y/n finished her outro. "Well that's it for now. Until next time. Peace out Wilders!"