#which is fine for a phone (but honestly still irritating)

[greyias]

Well cool, I've found a new bug in the new tumblr editor. As I was scrolling by I was like "why is that cursed promptfic so long? WAIT. That's not where I put the readmore!"

SO.

I opened the editor. And the readmore moved ON ITS OWN a paragraph or two down. So everytime I had gone back to add a tag I had forgotten or tweak the header information, the readmore kept inching further and further down. So now you can't edit long posts without double checking your readmore's location to make sure it hasn't spontaneously moved.

Cool. Definitely won't be an issue if you've placed spoilers under a readmore as common courtesy. Or sensitive information, etc.

I assume it has something to do with the weird and irritating way the new post editor handles paragraphs so that you can't select text like a normal text editor, but only in tiny paragraphs that you can never move. A+++ coding @staff/@support. This new editor is still cursed and I hate it

[snowball-doie]

| pairing: Dom!Jaemin x sub!fem!Reader x Dom!Mark

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Poly!7Dream. Sex toys. Fingering. "Forced" multiple orgasms. Overstimulation. Sligghtttt dacryphilia, if you squint? Drool. Sqiurting.

| wc: 1k

| aurora's note: there was originally a twt link to go with this, but it was taken down...

It hurt. The pleasure was turning into an a stinging pain that you couldn't escape thanks to Mark's hold on your legs, keeping you spread open for Jaemin while he continued to press the bulb of a Hitachi wand against your clit for the past two hours or so-- Without any breaks. You begged them for mercy. You tried pleading, bargaining, even trying to make an escape once when Mark lost his grip on your thighs and Jaemin was turned to grab a charger for his phone because it died half-way through recording another one of your orgasms. But they were stronger than you, and they had more energy because they hadn't been forced to cum over and over and over again... They never listened to you or showed any mercy, no matter what you did. In fact, to make sure you couldn't squirm away again, Jaemin forgot about recording your overstimulated pussy so that he could thrust two of his fingers in and out of you while the toy continued to torture your swollen, irritated, overstimulated clit.

Touring in America turned out to be more tiring than the boys thought-- Jaemin got food poisoning, Mark had to deal with a handful of sasaengs following the boys around, Haechan was exhausted from being overworked and hurt his ankle, Chenle's hair went from bright blue to throw up green in the span of 14 days, Renjun was still on hiatus, Jeno and Jaemin argued for the first few stops, and Jisung was completely fine throughout the whole ordeal of course. All of that overwhelmed the majority of the boys. While Renjun was still traveling between seeing family in China and home in Korea, the others returned from tour with a list of "relaxation tasks" in mind. Hyuck immediately went drinking with the 127 boys, Chenle cuddled in bed with Daegal and fell asleep the second his head hit the pillows, Jeno was visiting some old friends, Jisung attended a concert, and Mark and Jaemin... Well, their way of "relaxing" was using you.

It was impossible to resist you, according to them, circa two hours ago when they started getting handsy. All you were doing was sitting no the couch in pajamas, scrolling through your phone while the boys unpacked their bags in their bedrooms; Yet Jaemin and Mark figured they would have their fun with you. It was easy to subdue you, afterall. While Mark was distracting you with kisses and wandering hands, Jaemin was plugging in his handy-dandy Hitachi wand, then before you could protest, Mark was laying your back on his thighs, your head next to his hardening cock in his sweatpants, and Jaemin was telling Mark to hold your legs open so he could see what he was doing.

Honestly, it felt good at first. The boys had been gone for an entire month, and in that time you had touched yourself without permission, which was a big no-no to the likes of Jaemin and Jeno, but Mark was a surprise to you. You hadn't expected that he would be a participant in Jaemin's torture. So you figured when the vibrator touched your clit that they would make you cum once or twice before taking turns fucking you... That was two hours ago. Two. Hours.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and your voice was nearly gone from the amount of moaning, whining, and begging you'd done. Jaemin was still chuckling every so often because he was content with his work. You'd made a mess of the couch with your cum leaking out of you, and while his fingers worked in and out of you at an expert pace, he could feel your tired walls tightening, signaling that you were close even before you could croak out, "I'm gonna cum..." You'd given up on asking permission long ago. How many times had they even made you cum? When were they going to get tired or bored of you? Would Mark even take pity on you soon? He was usually the weaker one, always willing to give up at the sign of a tear running down your cheek or a plea spilling from your mouth.

"Cum on my fingers, princess."

So you did. Squirming in Mark's hold, your legs trying to fight against his tight grip so that you could close them and push the toy away from your clit, you came again... Your clit throbbed... Your walls desperately squeezed Jaemin's fingers. You panted in Mark's lap, looking up at him with pathetic, pleading eyes.

"You look so fucking pretty," he cooed down at you. Part of you expected that your puppy eyes would've had him pitying you, but no. Mark was just as entertained as Jaemin was. "You're drooling a bit. Here." Your weak legs couldn't fight or try to move to help you escape after Mark released you with one hand so that he could wipe the drool from your chin before pushing it back into your mouth with his fingers. "There you go. Good girl."

Your eyes crossed then fell shut as Jaemin curled his fingers to bully your g-spot. "Jae..."

"Cum again, sweet girl."

You did. Or maybe you never stopped cumming in the first place... They were beginning to mesh into each other, becoming one long, torturous orgasm.

"Fuck, hyung, look."

Mark's fingers retreated from your mouth before he went back to your legs to spread you even further as he looked down to see what Jaemin was calling his attention to. "Fuck. Did she--"

"Yeah." Jaemin laughed. "Princess, look at the mess you made."

Mark lifted your head off his lap. With heavy-lidded eyes threatening to close at any moment due to exhaustion, you glanced down to see your thighs, the couch, Jaemin's hands and pants, and the vibrator still pressed against your clit all covered in liquid.

"You looked so fucking pretty when you squirted for us, princess. Can you do it again so Mark can see?"

You whined, shaking your head, but that didn't stop Jaemin who continued to bully you, even while you slumped on Mark's lap again and accepted that they wouldn't be done for a long, long time now that they had a new trick to add to their "relaxation tasks".

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (11)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: after a lil bit of a break, chem ov has returned! More of the drama, the yearning, and the tension is served here, for your pleasure <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Following the reader's unfortunate accident, tensions run high between the two men vying for her heart. The cast get together to celebrate Ewan's birthday, and things go exactly as you would expect. And then some.

Ewan has never been the most active in the cast group chat. It does amuse him some, especially when Tom and Rhys get into those selfie battles of theirs, when all throughout the day, the chat would be flooded with deliberately posed pictures of the two pulling the most ridiculous faces in increasingly absurd locations.

It's a place for playful jabs, catching up, sharing updates. Light banter all around.

Which is why Ewan's heart nearly jumped out of his chest when the latest message came. He had been on location in LA, running through the script for his film when he received the notification. He’d ignored it at first, never one to reply promptly anyway. But a flicker of instinct – or maybe he felt it, felt you – made him check. 

Phia informed the group that you had an accident.

“... and it was during stunt training, but she’s fine and is in the hospital now…”

Everyone was encouraged to visit if they could or send their well wishes. 

Ewan’s mind reeled. Fine? What the hell does that mean? Fine could be a scratch or it could be… Fuck.

He read the message over and over until they blurred together. He knew he was willing the words to change like some idiot. You had to be okay. Nothing bad could happen to you.

Phia had just casually dropped the bombshell. She might as well have said, “Hey, how is everyone, good? Oh, by the way, she almost died but it’s cool.”

Ewan knew none of it was Phia’s fault, but that didn’t stop him from feeling an overwhelming irritation. What did ‘fine’ even mean? If he threw his phone across the room like he wanted, would that be fine?

He felt nauseous with worry as he dialled whoever he could – anyone who might give him more than just that damn word. Time went by torturously slowly, the only thing repeating in his head was the image of you – broken, unconscious, or worse – until Phia finally confirmed that it wasn’t life-threatening. 

He had to calm down, according to her. You are being taken care of, and are set to make a swift recovery.

But even then, it wasn’t enough.

Because it was you.

“Love… you’re awake.”

Sitting beside your hospital bed, Ewan gets a good look at you – finally awake but still too fragile for his liking. He hadn’t slept properly, and he feels like a whole mess. 

You blink slowly, your eyes meeting his. “Ewan?”

He feels like breathing again after being underwater for far too long. He can’t help the awkward smile that tugs at his lips. “Hey, darling. You look like you just fought a dragon.”

You start to laugh, but it quickly turns into a wince, and you relax back into the pillow. “Oh, jeez, don’t make me laugh. My head hurts.”

He quickly reaches for the glass of water on your bedside table and offers it to you. “Sorry, my bad. I’ll be my usual, stoic, boring self then.”

“You’re never boring, Mitchell.” You roll your eyes, before taking a sip.

He can’t help but watch you closely, as if you might vanish if he looks away. “Phia told the whole cast about your accident in the group chat. Did you know that?” he said, trying to keep things light.

“Oh great,” you mumble. “Did Rhys send one of his motivational selfies?”

“Well,” Ewan smiles. “He did. Said something about you ‘getting back in the saddle’ while he posed with a horse. It was inspirational, honestly.”

Ewan hadn’t felt anything when he saw that, consumed with thoughts of you, but now he feels free to let amusement wash over him. Now that he’s with you.

You roll your eyes again, softly smiling. “Of course he did. Well, I appreciate it.”

You are okay, which means Ewan is okay.

He knows just how in love he is with you. Even though you’d broken things off for his sake, even though the boundaries had blurred. Then friends with benefits. No strings. Except those strings had tightened around both of you, slowly suffocating the pretense until it collapsed. And now here you both were – again. With the issue of his PR looming like a goddamn stormcloud, and there is no running from it. 

He clears his throat. “You scared the hell out of me, you know?”

Your expression softens as you look at him. “I’m sorry. But I’m okay, really.”

He sighs, running a hand through his unruly dark blonde hair. “I didn’t know what I’d find when I got here. And Phia, bless her, has a knack for delivering life-altering news like she’s talking about what she had for breakfast.”

“She means well.” You smile, shaking your head.

“Yeah, darling, but next time, let’s just skip the part where you end up in a hospital bed, okay?” He reaches for your hand, his voice wavering slightly. He hates how vulnerable he sounds, but there’s nothing he can do to hide it.

“Deal.” You give his hand a playful shake, but your tone is sincere. 

Ewan glances down, his jaw tightening. He wants to ask if things can finally go back to the way they were – to you being his. He’s already yours anyway. 

But instead, he swallows hard and forces a lighthearted tone. “You know, if I had been there to teach you how to ride the Buck, then this never would have happened.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really, Mitchell? I’m pretty sure you almost got thrown off once.”

Ewan scoffs, giving you his best offended look. “Almost doesn’t count, darling. I’ve practically mastered it now. I do ride the biggest and fiercest dragon in the realm, remember?”

“I said don’t make me laugh,” you say, giving him a pointed look. 

He leans forward, his smirk widening. “I’m just saying. I could’ve saved you from all the stale hospital food. I mean – ” There’s a familiar flicker in his expression. With his head tilted downward, he looks at you through his eyelashes. “ – I have seen you ride, and you’ve got skill, but you do need my help.”

Your mouth falls open at his audacity. “Mitchell! When have you been this smug?”

“Only you have seen the full range of my talents,” he teased.

“Oh really?” you counter. “I did hit my head, so maybe I forgot all about them.”

“Recover quick, and I can jog your memory.”

He can feel the pull – he’d always felt it – and the familiar ache creeps back into his chest, stronger than ever. He wants to reach for you and close the gap. But instead, he buries it beneath a smirk.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

“Good. I’ll even throw in a few tricks. You know, to keep things interesting.”

“You said it, Mitchell,” you snort softly.

His gaze lingers on you, and the playful banter stalls, replaced by something heavier. And before he can stop himself, he leans close, hovering over you. 

“I’m glad you’re okay, darling,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You don’t respond, but you don’t need to. The way you look at him, the way your eyes soften, says enough. He hesitates for just a moment, his hand brushing gently against yours before he leans in further.

Gently, he presses his lips to your forehead, the touch light and lingering. When he pulls back, his face is close to yours, his gaze searching as if he is waiting for something. An answer. A sign. Anything to tell him where this was going.

There is something in your expression that seems like the same yearning that he has been unable to fight for so long.

“I’ll be here,” he whispers, the heavy significance of the words settling. “Whenever you need me.”

It’s your third morning at the hospital, when Phia, Liv and Tom burst into your room like a gust of fresh air, their loud voices echoing out in the hall.

Phia’s holding an extravagant bouquet of flowers – so big it practically obscures her face – while Liv balances a tray of coffees, her smile bright and warm. Tom walks in last with a massive balloon arrangement, the centre one reading GET WELL SOON in neon colours. 

“Look who’s alive and kicking!” Tom announces, waving the balloons around. “For a while there, we thought Alyna was going to have to be recast!”

Liv elbows him sharply in the ribs, then sets the coffees down on your bedside. “Tom, honestly.”

You can’t help the grin that creeps onto your face. “Yeah, right. As if there could ever be a better Alyna.”

Ewan sits by your bed, arms crossed, watching the group with quiet amusement. But the second Phia notices him, she arches a brow and points at him with a no-nonsense look. “Mitchell. Go home. Shower. Sleep. You look like death cooked over.”

Ewan’s brow furrows, and he opens his mouth to protest, but Phia cuts him off with a stern glare. “I’m not asking. I’m telling.”

He glances down at you, his expression conflicted, but you give him a small, tired nod. “You probably should. You’ve been here the whole time.”

Ewan hesitates, but then sighs, resigned. “Alright. But I’ll be back soon, darling.”

Phia nods, pleased. “Good. And don’t come back until you’ve slept at least eight hours… darling.”

Ewan shoots her a mock glare, then leans down toward you, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “See you in a few hours,” he murmurs softly, his voice just for you.

You nod, watching as he leaves the room, your heart sinking just a little. As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, Phia turns to you with a smirk. “He’s so whipped.”

Your cheeks flush instantly. “He’s just… worried.”

“Worried?” Tom scoffs, dropping into a chair beside Phia. “Right. I’m sure that’s all it is.”

“Please,” Liv chimes in, smiling knowingly. “He’s been practically glued to your side since you woke up.”

You shift uncomfortably, trying to deflect. “Yeah, well, after everything, we’re just… friends.”

Phia arches a brow. “Friends? You guys stopped being just friends since the age of the fucking dinosaurs, doll.”

You open your mouth to argue, but Liv interrupts, sliding you a cup of water from the tray. “Alright, we’ll stop harassing you – for now. Let’s talk birthday plans instead.”

At the mention of birthdays, guilt twists in your stomach. Ewan’s birthday had been in March, just a few weeks ago. You had known, but with the mess of the overall situation, it had slipped by.

“I completely forgot his birthday,” you murmur, the guilt weighing heavy. “I should’ve done something.”

Liv squeezes your hand gently. “You’ve had a lot on your plate. I’m sure he understands.”

Tom leans forward with a grin. “That’s why we’ve got a plan to make up for it. Joint birthday bash.”

Phia nods, her eyes twinkling. “For Ewan, Fabien, and Freddie. We’re thinking a trip to Spain, some villa, maybe a pool party, lots of sunshine. It’ll be a proper holiday for everyone.”

“Wait, what?” You blink, surprised by the sudden reveal of such an elaborate plan.

Liv grins. “Yeah. We’ve already started organising it. It’ll be in mid April, just after you’re up and moving again. A real joint celebration for the three of them.”

Tom gestures grandly. “Fabien’s excited. Lord Freddie’s thrilled to be celebrated, you know how he is. Ewan – well, he doesn’t know yet, cause all he thinks about is you.”

The idea sounds incredible – a break in Spain with the cast, a chance to relax and celebrate together. Especially after your on-set slipup. But the more they talk, the more conflicted you feel. Being in the same place with both Ewan and Matty… would be something indeed. 

Ewan is still to be in a carefully curated PR relationship, all for the sake of his movie. You dislike it, though you understand it, that relentless Hollywood game of optics. But the thought of spending time with him at a secluded villa in Spain – away from cameras, prying eyes, and staged appearances – sends your heart racing. You know Ewan. He’d see it as an opportunity. A chance to be close to you, to slip back into old habits, to erase the distance that the PR relationship has forced between you.

There would be no cameras, no script to follow – just the two of you in the same space, and you already know what that would lead to.

The memory of the masquerade ball is still fresh in your mind. That one night, where the lines had blurred so easily. You’d been wrapped in the heat of his arms, the press of his body against yours, the intoxicating thrill of being with him without anyone knowing.

And then there is Matty. Sweet Matty who is too charming for his own good. You had started seeing him casually, trying to convince yourself you could make it work, and you can’t deny the pull he has on you. How easy it all could be. Being with him feels like standing with the warm embrace of sunshine. 

You love Ewan. You want Matty. Thousands of girls would scramble to be in your position – the one who captured the boys’ affections. You, the one lying there in a hospital gown, with a broken ankle and head gauze.

So glamorous. So desirable. 

Tom’s voice cuts through your thoughts, bringing you back to the present. “So, Spain. Swimming, sunbathing, a giant villa – what do you think?”

You blink, catching up to the conversation. “I think… I’m in.”

Phia grins widely. “Good. Ewan’ll be thrilled you’re coming.”

Liv smiles. “We thought the party could be a way for everyone to unwind, you included. No pressure.”

No pressure. But you know there is pressure – at least, there is for you. You’ve been avoiding it, dancing around the feelings you can’t admit to yourself, let alone to Ewan. And Matty – kind, supportive Matty, who doesn’t deserve to be caught up in your mess.

“Yeah, no pressure,” you say softly, but the words feel hollow.

Phia stands up suddenly, clapping her hands together. “Alright, enough of this emotional nonsense. Let’s talk logistics – birthday cake! We’re doing three layers, one for each of the boys.”

Tom dryly says, “I offered to get Martha to bake it, but we decided against it because her specialty is burnt-charcoal waffles.”

Phia shoots him a deadpan look. “They were practically concrete. Love her though!”

Liv laughs, shaking her head. “We’ll leave the cake to the professionals, thanks.”

As the conversation shifts to party details and farfetched ideas, your mind drifts. You try to stay focused, but your thoughts keep circling back to the same place – Spain, the party, Ewan and Matty. The idea of being around them for days, in a relaxed holiday setting, feels both exciting and terrifying. 

You know it’s not just a party. It’s a ticking time bomb.

Ewan’s footsteps echo in the sterile hospital hallway, his grip tight on the bouquet he’s brought for you – your favourite flowers, carefully chosen. As per Phia’s orders, he had gone home and slept a good 10 hours, being more exhausted than he must have realised. The day after, going back to you was the only thing that came to mind, and he was out the door in no time.

As he rounds the corner toward your room, his steps falter at the sight of someone else approaching. 

Matt.

His tall frame is impossible to miss. He saunters down the hall from the opposite direction, holding a similar bouquet in one hand and a gift bag in the other. Ewan feels the tension twisting in his stomach as Matt’s eyes meet his across the corridor. 

For a moment, the hallway falls into an eerie silence, the air thick with an unspoken challenge. Neither of them says a word as they approach the door to your room at almost the same time, both armed with flowers, both here for you. 

“Ewan,” Matt greets first, his voice low, almost amused.

Ewan nods, keeping his expression neutral. “Matt.”

Ewan’s eyes flick to the flowers in Matt’s hand, and a bitter taste rises in his throat. Matt isn’t just another visitor, he’s the guy who’s been with you while Ewan is forced to sit on the sidelines. 

“You’re here again,” Matt comments, breaking the silence. “Not that I’m surprised.” 

Ewan raises an eyebrow. “And why wouldn’t I be? She needs support.”

Matt’s eyes narrow slightly, and his smile is tight. “I get that. But I’m here now too. She’s got plenty of support.”

Ewan feels a flicker of annoyance, his grip tightening on the bouquet. “You think that’s all it is? Just showing up with flowers and pretending you know what she needs?”

Matt’s jaw clenches, but he keeps his cool. He knows better than to cause a scene in the middle of a public hallway. “And you think you’re the only one who cares about her? The only one who knows her? She and I – we’ve been spending plenty of time together. I’ve got some idea of what she needs.”

The possessiveness in Matt’s tone is unmistakable, and it sets Ewan on edge. He steps closer, his eyes locked on Matt’s. “You’ve only been dating her for a few weeks, mate. But we’ve been through things that you couldn’t even begin to understand.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard all about your history. But let’s be real – if you were so good for her, why’d she end things with you? Why’s she with me now?”

Ewan feels a sharp pang at the reminder, but he doesn’t back down. “If you think things are over between me and her, then you’re mistaken. It will never be over. Maybe you’re a convenience. Someone for the moment.”

Matt takes a step forward, closing the distance between them. “A convenience? Right. I don’t see you making any moves to change the situation. You’ve been content to sit back and watch while I’ve been with her. Maybe you’re the one who’s convenient, yeah?”

Ewan’s jaw tightens, his heart pounding in his chest. He knows Matt’s right, in a way – he’s been stuck, unable to break free from the PR relationship that’s kept him and you apart. But that doesn’t make what Matt’s saying any easier to swallow.

“The way I see it, you’re just a distraction,” Ewan says, his voice sharp, laced with bitterness, “a way for her to forget what she really wants.”

Matt’s eyes flash with anger now, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “And what she really wants is you, is that it? Tell me, Ewan, if you’re so sure she’s still in love with you, why hasn’t she said anything? Why hasn’t she kicked me to the curb and come running back?”

The words hit harder than Ewan expects, and for a moment, he falters. He knows you still love him – he can see it in the way you look at him, the way you can never quite let go. But Matt’s right. You haven’t made a choice. And now here they are, two men standing in a hallway, both fighting for something that feels just out of reach.

Ewan steps even closer. “You think just because you’re in the picture now, I’m going to step aside and let you have her? Not a fucking chance, mate.”

Matt takes a deep breath in an attempt to collect himself. It’s clear to him that Ewan isn’t going to loosen up easily. Especially not when he’s being provoked. “I’m not asking you to step aside. But unless she tells me otherwise, I’ll keep showing up. So maybe you should get used to that.”

Ewan looks away, his voice lowering. “We… both… care about her. I’m not denying that. But don’t fool yourself. She hasn’t made her choice yet.”

“Maybe she hasn’t.” Matt holds his gaze. “But I’m here, and I’m willing to wait. Are you?”

The hallway feels suffocating, the weight of their words heavy in the air. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Ewan speaks again, his voice softer but no less intense.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Matt nods once. “Neither am I.”

They stand there in silence for a moment, the unspoken agreement settling between them. It’s a temporary truce, but they both know this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Finally, they turn toward your room, the door looming in front of them like a gateway to another battle. Ewan’s heart pounds as he pushes the door open, stepping inside, with Matt close behind.

You’re awake, sitting up slightly in bed, looking both surprised and nervous as you see the two of them enter together.

“Well, this is… unexpected,” you say, your voice tinged with humour as your eyes dart between the two men.

“Hey,” Matt says with an easy smile, walking over to place his flowers on the table by your bed. “Thought I’d stop by, check in on you.”

Ewan follows suit, setting his bouquet down next to Matt’s, though his gaze stays fixed on you. “And I came back, as promised.”

“Funny that you show up at the same time.” You glance between them, your brow raising. 

Matt chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, we didn’t exactly plan it.”

Ewan forces a smile, trying to keep things light. “Just making sure you’re not causing any more trouble, darling.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Oh, I’m definitely the troublemaker here.”

Ewan sinks into the chair by your bed while Matt leans against the windowsill, arms crossed. For a brief moment, it almost feels normal. Almost.

“Phia mentioned Spain,” Matt says after a beat, his voice casual, but there’s an edge to his tone. “The birthday trip.”

You nod eagerly. “The joint birthday for the lads.” Your eyes flicker to Ewan. “I feel terrible for missing your birthday last month.”

Ewan shakes his head, his expression softening. “You had a lot going on. Don’t worry about it.”

The casual mention of his birthday tugs at your heartstrings. You hadn’t forgotten exactly, but things had been so complicated. Now, though, guilt gnaws at you.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you say sincerely, looking at Ewan, and the way his eyes hold yours makes your heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, the villa should be fun,” Matt chimes in, but there’s something sharp in his tone. “But we have to be sure you’re in tip top shape first, love.”

“I’ll be the one in the bikini and a leg cast,” you joke. 

The conversation drifts into lighter topics – memories of on-set pranks, silly cast antics – but there’s an underlying tension, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. It’s almost like watching a film in slow motion, each moment dragging longer than it should, with none of you willing to say what you’re really thinking.

After a while, Ewan checks his phone, his brows knitting together. He glances at you, a reluctant sigh escaping his lips. “Darling, I need to head out. I’ve got a meeting with my manager to sort out the filming schedule.”

You nod in understanding. “You did leave LA pretty quickly. I don’t want you getting in trouble because of me.”

Ewan’s gaze softens. “It’s not trouble,” he says quietly. “Not when it’s for you.”

As he walks to the door, he pauses and looks back at you, his expression unreadable. He hesitates, then takes a few steps back toward the bed, leaning down to kiss your forehead gently. The gesture is tender, and it leaves a warmth in its wake that lingers long after he’s gone.

“Rest up, darling,” he murmurs before turning to leave.

You’re left with Matt, the silence between you more comfortable and less tense than it was with Ewan. He moves from his spot by the window and sits down in the chair Ewan just vacated. He offers you a gentle smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “He cares about you a lot, you know,” he says.

“I know,” you reply softly.

Matt smirks, his cheekiness resurfacing. “Almost as much as I do.”

The atmosphere eases after that, Matt joking about the cast’s upcoming trip to Spain, trying to make you laugh. After a while, your body begins to give in to exhaustion, your eyes growing heavy. He notices and encourages you to rest, and you doze off before long, the soft hum of his voice lulling you to sleep. 

But just as you slip into that hazy space between wakefulness and dreaming, you hear Matt’s voice again, quieter now, like he’s talking to himself. Or maybe to you, thinking you’re already asleep.

“I know you still love him,” he says softly, the words almost painful to hear. “I can see it every time you look at him. It’s obvious.”

Your heart tightens in your chest, but you keep your breathing steady, pretending to stay asleep.

“I don’t blame you,” Matt continues, his voice rough with emotion. “He’s good for you, isn’t he? You’ve got history. I knew what I was getting into when we started this… whatever this is. But I can’t help it. I see myself falling in love with you, and it terrifies me.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and your eyes burn behind your closed lids. You want to say something, anything, but you don’t. You lie there, frozen, letting Matty’s confession hang in the air between you.

“You don’t have to choose me,” Matt whispers, almost as if he’s resigned to his fate. “But I… I certainly wouldn’t mind it if you do, love.” He laughs bitterly at the end, then turns serious once more. “We could… we could be happy.”

His voice cracks slightly, and it takes everything in you not to react. You hadn’t realised just how much this meant to him, how deeply he felt. He always seemed so easygoing, so casual, and now you see that there was more beneath the surface. So much more.

You lie still, pretending to sleep, as Matt gently brushes a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll be here, if you want me,” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. 

You chose yourself, selfish as it might have been, and you would make the same decision again if given the chance. You needed to do that; you owed it to yourself. You also sought companionship and a shot at happiness with him. But that hadn’t been final. 

No matter who it will be in the end, someone’s heart is going to break. 

Your ankle is forgotten, your concussion a trifling thing.

Because the weight of that choice is a much heavier burden to bear.

The villa in Spain is like something out of a dream, nestled in the rolling hills of Mallorca. Its white stone walls gleam against the deep blue backdrop of the Mediterranean, the ocean stretching endlessly in the distance. The courtyard is lined with blooming florals and tall cypress trees. It’s the kind of place that makes you forget about the rest of the world, even if just for a moment, and let go of everything that’s complicated and heavy.

But not for Ewan, who sits alert under the shade of a large patio umbrella by the pool, clad in only his navy blue swim trunks. His sunglasses are perched on his nose, as he pretends to read a script – his attention is elsewhere. 

They track you, where you’re surrounded by the girls, all of them fussing over you like a flock of mother hens. Your fracture boot is propped up on the sun chair, crutches leaning nearby. 

Ewan smiles to himself when you laugh at something Liv says, your face lighting up completely. He's relieved that you’re able to relax after everything. But underneath that relief is something else – something that coils even tighter every time he glances at Matt nearby.

Matt’s never far, either. Ewan notices it. Of course, he notices. How could he not? The way Matt hovers just on the edge of the group, never too close to seem overbearing but always there. It’s the same thing Ewan’s doing, and it’s infuriating because he knows exactly what it means. 

Ewan watches as a shirtless Matt hands you a cold drink, his hand brushing yours for a second longer than necessary. You look up, smile gratefully at him, and Ewan feels the sharp sting of it, like a jab to the ribs. He clenches his jaw and forces himself to look away, his grip tightening on the already tattered script in his hands.

“Mitchell, my boy,” Freddie says, plopping down in the chair beside him. “You’ve clearly got a thousand-yard stare going on underneath those shades. You alright?”

Ewan shrugs, trying to play it off. “Yeah, just… thinking.”

Freddie is unconvinced, but he doesn’t push. “It’s our celebration in paradise, mate. You should think about getting a drink in you. Pretend to have fun before Tom ropes us all into some ridiculous pool game.”

Ewan huffs a laugh, grateful for the distraction, but it’s short-lived. His eyes drift back to you, watching as Phia ties a sun hat around your head, joking about protecting ‘the merchandise,’ while Liv adjusts the chair to make sure you’re comfortable. You’re surrounded by care, by laughter, and yet… Ewan can’t shake the need to be near you. To be the one making sure you’re alright.

He hates the way Matt looks at you, like he’s got some claim, like he knows what’s best for you. He doesn’t know you. Not like Ewan does. He hasn’t been through the heartbreak, the sleepless nights, the mess of trying to hold it together when everything was falling apart. He hasn’t watched you fight through everything, hasn’t seen the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love.

Matt is there, sure, but Ewan has been there.

He wants to go over, tell the girls to give you some space, be the one to take care of you himself. But he doesn’t. Not with Matt there, standing just close enough to remind him that you’re not his to take care of. Not anymore. 

“Careful, mate,” Fabien materialises from the side, a drink in hand. “You keep looking at her like that, and it’s gonna get messy.”

“It’s already messy,” Ewan replies, clicking his tongue. He shifts in his seat, trying to focus on the script in front of him, but it’s pointless. He watches as Matt crouches down beside you, leaning in to say something quietly. You laugh, and the sound hits like a white-hot surge to his veins – an instinctual, possessive reaction he can’t suppress. 

Ewan doesn’t want to cause a scene. It’s a holiday, after all – everyone’s in good spirits, and you finally look like you’re getting some much-needed rest.

But before he even realises it, he’s already halfway across the courtyard, his steps brisk and determined. 

“Hey,” Ewan says when he reaches you, his tone light, almost forced. “Mind if I join?”

Matt straightens, settling in the chair next to you. “Well, look who finally decided to come over. Thought you were just going to lurk all day.”

You shift in your chair, adjusting your fracture boot, letting Ewan sit next to your outstretched legs. “I’m fine, by the way. If that’s what this is about.”

The girls are now watching intently in their respective sun chairs, pretending to sip their drinks but clearly enjoying the show. You’re caught between rolling your eyes and laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all.

Ewan casts a quick glance at your ankle boot, the tenderness in his gaze flickering just for a moment before he locks eyes with Matt again. “I’m just making sure you’re not overwhelming her. She might need her space,” he says.

Matt raises an eyebrow, his casual posture not matching the edge in his voice. “Space? Mate, that’s rich coming from the guy who’s crowding her chair right now.”

Phia snorts into her drink, earning a stern look from Liv, but it’s too late. The tension is starting to draw a crowd, and even Fabien and Freddie are craning their necks to watch. Freddie whispers something to Fabien, who laughs, clearly entertained.

Instead of rising to the bait, Ewan exhales sharply and forces a smile. “Just making sure my… friend is comfortable.”

Liv arches an eyebrow. “My god, friend, is it? Please don’t tell me I’m your friend too.”

Emma freely chortles at Liv’s remark, while Phia doubles over in glee.

You interject with a sigh, waving your hands between them. “Okay, enough. I love a good ego battle as much as the next girl, but seriously – this is supposed to be a holiday. Can we not do this?”

“Honestly, you two,” Phia says, “I thought I already made it clear – she’s my girl.”

The tension cracks as the group erupts into laughter, and even Ewan and Matt can’t help but smile. 

“Alright, alright,” Ewan mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Truce. For now.”

Matt smirks, extending a hand mockingly toward Ewan, who rolls his eyes but shakes it briefly before turning his attention back to you. His gaze softens as he catches your eye. “Just… don’t overdo it, yeah?”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling. “I’m the one in a boot. Trust me, I’m not going anywhere fast.”

Emma’s enjoying the scene, calmly sipping on their negroni sbagliato. “Honestly, with the way things are unfolding, this drama could end up being better than the show.”

Before anyone can throw in another comment, Ewan’s phone vibrates in the pocket of his trunks. His expression darkens briefly when he glances at the screen. It’s his manager, but she knows not to disturb him on holiday unless it’s urgent. “I’ve got to take this. I’ll be right back.” He catches your eye for a brief moment before stepping away.

The world of Hollywood is no stranger to scandal, but this one is poised to shake the industry to its core.

Bruce Haversham, the powerful executive behind some of the biggest film projects in recent decades, had been untouchable at the very top of the mountain. Until now.

The news broke late in the afternoon, first as a whisper across social media before exploding into full-blown coverage on every major network. Accusations of sexual harassment and assault came pouring in, one after the other, each more damning than the last.

By the time the story hit the major outlets, it was clear that Bruce Haversham’s reign was over.

In New York, where he had been arrested, footage of him being escorted from his apartment in handcuffs circulated widely. The headlines were merciless: Hollywood Titan Falls, The End of Bruce Haversham’s Empire, A Predator Unmasked.

For Ewan, this is more than just a story on the evening news. It’s personal.

It was Bruce who masterminded the PR relationship that drove a wedge between Ewan and the one he truly loves. 

Now, everything changes. Bruce Haversham is out. Effective immediately. 

The path ahead wouldn’t be easy – far from it – but now, at least it is a path Ewan can walk freely. 

His mind races as he drops the call, the flood of information almost too much to process at once. Talk about a late birthday gift.

The relief hit him fast, like a cool rush of air. But it is immediately followed by something else – confusion, uncertainty. What now? What does this mean for him, and for you?

Matt had swooped in, offering you comfort and companionship, complicating things further. He cares about you, Ewan knows that. And from the outside, it makes sense – you and Matt seem good together. 

But Ewan knows better. Deep down, he is certain – absolutely sure – that what you and he shared isn’t just good. It was right. You and him… you are perfect together.

Ewan’s free from his strings, and all bets are off. 

It’s all or nothing this time. 

💌 next chapter

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

The rest of the holiday will take up most of part 12! Ewan can actually properly enjoy himself now 😉

Don't think it'll be that easy! Darling's tied to Matty too, in a way. And after that confession? Damn it, Matthew, you sly loverboy you.

How far will Ewan go? And will Matty double down on his efforts? It's all chemical. It's all overriding. 🤷🏻‍♀️💙

[suiana]

(yandere! foreign exchange student x gn! reader) (thanks for 8k 😍😍)

"can you stop being so annoying?"

"what?"

he stares at you with a raised eyebrow, pouting as he rests his cheek on his palm. with both arms propped up on the table, he reaches out his other arm towards you. obviously you back away in disgust at his affection... and you can't help but notice the way he narrows his eyes at your reaction.

he, as in, your annoying buddy. hiroto yamada, your buddy for the foreign exchange program which you were unwillingly made to participate in.

you knew bad things would happen when you saw the program, yet you were made to participate in it because you had joined the university wellbeing club. curse you and your past impulsive decisions.

honestly, things were fine in the beginning. apart from the fact that you had to socialize with others and waste your breath explaining things in the university... everything was quite alright. he wasn't too extroverted, liked to keep to himself as well...

that was until you started suspecting that he liked you.

you didn't want to believe it. there was no way. like, it's literally the absolute worse thing that could happen that would disrupt your peaceful school life.

so you pretended to not see the obvious signs he threw at you. you treated him like how you used to treat him, aka like a classmate you wouldn't talk to outside of class...

so it wasn't unexpected that he'd get frustrated. in fcat, it was actually a wonder that he managed to go for so long without shouting at you to stop ignoring the signs (he lasted 6 weeks).

eventually he confessed but... you didn't accept. duh. you didn't even like him that way! you didn't even treat him like a close friend so why would you fall or accept his love?

so you rejected him. understandable response.

but he wouldn't take it for an answer.

so he constantly pestered you in hopes that you'd finally give in and say yes. which is what led you to your current situation.

"you know, trying to act like my boyfriend..."

"but I'm just practicing for the future that will happen?"

he raises an eyebrow, seemingly confused as you roll your eyes at his reply. you make no move to explain yourself because you knew that he understood what you meant. he's a smart guy after all. he just likes playing dumb to get on your nerves.

and right now he's doing that.

you honestly wanted to just beat him up but that'll never work out in your favor. so you settle for the next best thing and that's to ignore him. and it always works.

turning around to face away from him, you plug in your ear phones and tune his blabbering out as you attempt to ignore him. it worked for a little bit but he always gets irritated the second you lose interest in him.

"hey pay attention to me..."

he whines softly, tugging on your shirt. you continue to ignore him, humming softly as you scroll on social media. oh this is a nice post-

but the second you move your hand to like it, he yanks the phone out of your grip and hides it in his bag. his face displays an annoyed expression, furrowed eyebrows and downturned lips.

you wanted to smack his face so bad. and you were just about to do that until he speaks in a chilling tone.

"you can't keep ignoring me. you know that we'll end up with each other. it's inevitable."

he mumbles before caressing your cheek. you shiver, eyes wide as your blood runs cold. shit! unconsensual touch! unconsensual touch!

but as much as you hated his touch, you couldn't move away for you were too frozen in fear. he always had a way of scaring you with his voice. and he loved to abuse it.

"you're really going to make me mad... so please don't keep resisting. it's not humourous or cute."

he mutters quietly before giggling as he lets go of your face. all you do is stare at him, still frozen in place as you gulp and finally look away.

god damn it. you really should've fought harder to get out of the exchange program.

[hotshotsxyz]

this method acting (might pay our bills)

(1.1k) (gen) 8x02 coda with spoilers from the 8x03 teaser. it's still thursday on the west coast, so i'm counting this as a same day coda. anyway brad torrence is a menace and i'm setting up camp in his brain

Let it be known to all, Brad Torrence takes his craft very seriously. So seriously, in fact, that when he’s called to a real emergency, he answers that call without hesitation. After all, what better to inform his performance than real experience? Tonight, Brad is a firefighter; he doesn’t just play one on TV.

His fellow firefighter, Buck, doesn’t seem terribly enthused about his presence. He generally seems to have a worried air about him, though, so maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with him at all. There’s a certain degree of vanity required in his profession, but he isn’t entirely self-centered. Honestly, he’s just glad that Buck doesn’t seem to be starstruck. That would make this entire situation far more difficult.

“Try Athena,” Bobby commands, but before Brad can ask for her number, Buck’s already dialing. That’s fine, he supposes. There’s no time to waste.

Brad’s not actually completely sure who Athena is. Someone important, obviously, perhaps his lieutenant? His character on Hotshots is a bit of a lone wolf, but maybe there’s something else there to explore. He makes a mental note to ask the writers room about adding a new character in the back half of the season, a lieutenant for him to butt heads and then bond with. They could even make it a bit of a will-they-won’t-they. He’s sure they won’t mind a few rewrites.

The phone rings twice, then, to Brad’s surprise, the call connects.

“Buck? Where’s—”

“I’m right here, Athena,” Bobby interrupts. His tone is magnificent. Calm but firm, no doubt inspiring nothing but faith in the woman on the other end of the line, whoever she is to him.

“Oh, thank god, Bobby,” Athena says.

Her voice is a bit garbled. It wouldn’t make for good television, but some concessions must be made for reality, Brad supposes.

“I’m on a plane,” Athena continues. “It’s—it’s not looking great.”

“Athena, if there’s anyone who can land a plane it’s you,” Bobby says. There isn’t a modicum of doubt in his voice.

“If there’s anyone who can land a plane, it’s a pilot!” Athena protests. Brad wishes he brought a pen and paper. Her comedic timing is excellent.

“She’s got you there,” Brad says, leaning forward until his head is between Bobby and Buck.

The look Buck shoots him is just shy of murderous. He’d be a terrible actor, Brad thinks. It’s all about focus and purposeful expression, neither of which seem to be at the top of Buck’s priority list.

“Who the hell was that?” Athena asks.

“Brad Torrence,” he says smoothly, “but you can call me Brad.”

Buck’s expression shifts from murderous to incredulous. Again, terrible actor.

“Don’t worry about him,” Bobby says.

He inflects his words with the tiniest hint of irritation. It’s brilliant – how better to redirect the anxiety Athena must be feeling into something more manageable. Brad only hopes he’ll be able to meet her in person once this nasty business is over.

“I’ve got plenty to worry about. He doesn’t even make the top ten.”

Buck snorts. Rude.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Bobby says.

“Air traffic control is directing us to LAX, but—Bobby, I’m not sure we can make it that far. The hole in the fuselage is getting bigger and our airspeed is dropping fast.” Athena sounds scared, desperate. Caroline could learn a thing or two from her about emotional resonance.

“Did—did you say there’s a hole in the plane?” Buck asks. His voice has a certain gravely, intense timber that Brad supposes would do well in some genres. Action movies, maybe, but not the high budget kind.

“What do you need from me?” Bobby asks before she can answer the question.

“Do you got a runway in your back pocket?” Again, brilliant comedic timing. She has that perfectly acerbic wit that any good heroine needs to have.

Bobby thinks for a moment. “Can you make it to the 110?” he asks finally.

“That, I think I can do,” Athena replies.

“Buck,” Bobby says, only it sounds less like his name and more like a command.

“On it,” Buck says. He twists around in his seat and looks at Brad. “Give me your phone.”

“My—why do you need my phone?” Brad asks. “You’ve got one right there.”

“Come on, man, now,” Buck says, all bite with no room for argument.

“Fine, fine,” Brad says. He slides his phone from the pocket of his turnout pants and hands it to Buck, who doesn’t even thank him for it.

Instead, he turns back to the front and types out a quick text before dialing a number. The call connects almost instantly.

“Maddie,” he says, “I don’t have time to explain. I need you to shut down the 110, get as much traffic off it as possible. We need it completely clear from Sepulveda to Torrance.”

The woman on the other end of the line doesn’t reply directly. “All available units, we’re shutting down the 110. Create roadblocks south of Sepulveda and north of Torrance. All traffic must be cleared between those exits.”

“Thank you, Maddie, you’re the best,” Buck says when she’s done. So, some people do, in fact, get thanked when they do something helpful. It’s fine.

“Is it Athena?” Maddie asks.

“Yeah,” Buck says. “They can’t stay in the air much longer.”

“Alright,” Maddie says. “I’ll coordinate with the IC over there, get triage moved as fast as possible.”

“I’ll keep you in the loop,” Buck says.

The line goes dead, and Brad’s expecting to get his phone back, but Buck sends another text and dials another number. This time, it rings thrice before the call is answered.

“Buck,” a man says on the other end of the line. His voice is warm and honey smooth. Brad should ask his dialect coach about that.

“They’re not—Eddie, they’re not making it to LAX,” Buck says, rushed and a little less polished than he was for Maddie.

There’s a short pause, then the quality of the sound changes. “Where?” the man—Eddie—asks.

“The 110,” Buck says. “South of Torrance. We need you over here, fast as possible.”

It’s odd, hearing his name this many times when he’s not the subject of the conversation. If this was meant to be a TV scene, it’d be far too repetitive.  

“Pack it up, let’s go!” another voice calls. She must be a captain, if the authority she speaks with is anything to go off.

“We’re coming,” Eddie says.

Some of the tension in Buck’s shoulders seems to bleed away. Interesting. “See you soon,” he says.

He ends the call, and Brad turns his attention back to Bobby. After listening for a moment, he realizes that they’re now on a conference call, and Athena is speaking to someone who knows a great deal more about planes than he does.

Brad closes his eyes and leans back. They’ll be at the scene soon. It’s time to visualize. As long as he stays in character, nothing can go wrong.

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER SIX

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i���

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @xxloveralways14 @patscorner @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @makethemhoesmad @authentic-girl03

warnings infidelity, some sexual content

kalena speakss 🪽! this is easily my favorite chapter so far (for reasons that will become obvious towards the end) don’t expect another back to back update bc it’s not happening 😭 maybe thursday or friday at the earliest, i still have priorities!

June 2025 — Crypto.com Arena, Los Angeles, California 

“Paige, your shot wasn’t falling tonight like we are used to seeing from you. What was different tonight for you than either nights?”

It’s this that I’m not quite yet used to. The post lost pressers. It was different in college, where the team had way more wins for every one loss, but right now we’re at .500 and each time a loss follows a win and they ask me the same variation of the same question I get irritated.

But I’m media trained, which means I just answer the question no matter how dumb I feel it is. The real answer is that I played like shit tonight, forcing shots and getting into my head. Instead, I’m forced to say:

“We’re playing a team that has the reigning defensive player of the year and was just in the finals. It was gonna be a dog fight, for us to get settled against a defense like that, and they simply out performed us.” I look down at the stat sheet in front of me, I had 5 turnovers to my 4 assists, and I fucking hate turning the ball over. 

“Kayla McBride is a dog, she guarded me well tonight, forced me into some bad shots and got a few turnovers from me. But I gotta take all that and learn from it, it’s still too early in the season to stress out over things that are fixable.”

I'm the only one sitting at the podium tonight, Rickea and Dearica doing theirs together and Zia who had just gone before me. I knew what the gist of the questions would be, turnovers, defense, and the most gruesome: injuries.

“We saw you roll your ankle pretty bad tonight. Even though you finished the game, can you tell us a bit about the seriousness of it?” It’s a different reporter now, one that I recognize from our win the other night.

I shake my head. My ankle was fine up until he just mentioned it. Now, it stung bad. I had some extra tape around it, it was only sore, while I was sitting but walking and running full speed on the court made that shit hurt like no other. 

“It’s not serious.” I reply honestly. “We got two days off before the next game at home so I’m not worried. I’m gonna treat it like any other tweak and just follow what the trainers got for me, and hopefully we have a better night against Minnesota on Friday.”

It seems like that is a sufficient answer for the rest of the reporters in the room when I hear that wonderful “no more questions.” I stand up gingerly from my seat. They don’t miss my slight limp, but after a few steps the pain shakes off and it just feels uncomfortable. 

When I get back to the locker room it’s damn near empty except for Cameron and Rae. I give them both curt nods before heading over to my locker.

They don’t speak to me, which I’m silently grateful for because I might snap at them unintentionally. Losing is one thing, playing like dog shit is another, but my ankle really put the nail in the coffin.

I attempt to clean up my locker a bit, making life a little bit easier for the ladies who’re gonna come in and clean up when we leave. I throw my jersey and shorts in the growing pile of towels and warm ups and all other gear before reaching for my phone in the bag. 

just saw the injury on tv, pray it’s not too bad ❤️‍🩹

That’s the second most recent text in my phone, from about an hour ago from Maraye. It just briefly brings a smile to my face that I can’t even fight. It’s crazy to me that even when I’m at my grumpiest she finds a way to make me forget about it all.

I scroll through the rest of my notifications before tapping on her contact. I see that she texted me multiple times tonight throughout different parts of the game.

don’t fuck up my parlay tonight. jk good luck fav! 7:09pm

OKAY BLOCKKK GET UP THEN 7:20pm

omg the cross over??? don’t do her like that p 😮‍💨  8:03pm

I laugh fights through my lips, she told me in Atlanta she would start live texting me during games, I didn’t think she was serious. Nevertheless, I find it adorable. Maraye, throughout the busyness that is her schedule, turned on my game and watched the whole thing, keeping me posted on all her thoughts throughout the night.

I’m so beyond saving.

My thumb scrolls back down to the bottom of the thread. I can’t deny the way my heartbeat quickens in my chest at the choice of heart emoji. It’s not quite a red heart, but it’s enough to let me know she cares. I can’t believe that I’m sitting here like I’m in high school again, psycho analyzing her texts and gushing over them until my face is red.

“You headin’ out?” I look up and Cam is getting ready to leave. She’s going to be fully cleared to play this week, probably not playing with us until right before All-star. I’m excited for her, and I can tell that she is too because it’s practically beaming off of her.

I nod. “Yeah, inna minute. I’ll catch you in the morning.” Cameron takes that answer and walks out alongside Rae. I grab my back shortly after them, getting up and leaving the locker room. The arena is quiet, so is the parking garage as I make my way out there. The chirp of my car alerts me to it. I drop my bag in the trunk before sitting down in my seat.

The cushion practically eats me alive, I haven’t been this physically exhausted in months. 

Then I’m reminded that Maraye and I’d thread is still open on my phone. When I glance at the time I realize it’s not that late, I know that if I go home, I’ll just fall into the rabbit hole of watching film all night.

Instead I reach for the phone heavy in my sweatpants pocket. My thumbs begin typing away before sending Maraye a text back.

Nah it’s not all that bad 

You busy? Or can I slide?

I make sure my phone is connected to the speakers. When He’s Not There by Kehlani plays through the car while I get settled. Following that, I place my phone on its spot on the center console. It isn’t until Maraye’s name flashes on my carplay screen that I finally pull out of the parking garage.

yes please, come see meee

—

Paige sits comfortably to my left on my couch. Her leg propped on my coffee table with a bag of ice resting on her swollen ankle. 

It’s her first time at my apartment, but even then she navigates the place like she’s been here countless of times. It feels so similar to our friendship, just comfortable. 

Her arm is draped over my shoulder as I nestle into her side. When she first came over, I sat on the other side of the couch, so far away from her you would think we were fighting. And then she started talking, pulling me closer with her words until I sat right next to her. My body is leaning into her warmth.

An NBA finals game plays on the TV. Knicks versus the Thunder, it’s in the last few minutes of overtime, a high intensity game that Paige swore she couldn’t miss a second of.

“He’s so fine.” I chirp jokingly, Shai Gilgeous Alexander is on the screen, about to shoot game tying free throws.

Paige pulls her arm off of me, looking down at me incredulously before reaching for my remote. She lowers the volume on the TV, reducing Mike Breen’s commentating to a whisper.

“Who, Shai?”

“Yeah. You don’t think so?” I ask, looking up at her with a grin.

“I’m like a raging homosexual, but if you like it I love it?”

I laugh at that, pushing her hair away from my view. It cascades down her shoulders in soft bright strands that tickle my face. 

“You can never just laugh at my jokes.”

“Your jokes aren’t funny.” Paige says. The face she makes reacts to her own statement like it’s obvious, when we both know I could make her laugh until she cried if I wanted to. “And Shai isn’t your type.”

I move from my spot next to her, jumping up and turning my attention to her face, while hers are stuck to the game. The way she is seated briefly makes me forget my train of thought. Her legs are spread comfortably and she leans back on the couch with her arms against the back of the couch. She looks like a fuckboy, and in any other scenario I would make fun of her for it, but the TV glow shines on her face just right and her cologne in my nose nearly makes me go blind.

I cross my arms over my chest. “What’s my type then, Paige?”

A commercial cuts on and Paige finally draws her eyes away from the screen. “What, Julian’s lightskin ass wasn’t the giveaway?” She laughs at her own joke, it’s stupid, but I love that laugh. So uniquely her. “Or y’want me to say you like six foot blonde girls.”

I roll my eyes, and when my vision clears up again, Paige is grinning at me.

“C’mon it was funny!”

“I don’t like women, idiot.”

“You like me.”

“I do not. I don’t even know why I let you hang out around me.” My body turns and my back hits the couch with a soft thud. Just to annoy her I sit further away from her body.

“Yeah okay, ma. You keep tellin’ yourself that.” Paige’s voice is low, a deep and raspy tone that I have never heard from her before. With Julian that had always been a given— he’s a man with a deep voice, that’s obvious. But when I hear it from Paige, I don’t know. It’s different.

My body just barely reacts to the pet name, but it’s there. The glob of saliva that pushes down my dry throat. And my legs just slightly press together. Paige reaches for the pocket of my striped shorts, tugging me back to my original spot in the curve of her body. 

“You’ve really never done anything with a girl before?”

“Paige—”

“No, not to be annoying. I’m just wondering.” She shrugs. Her hand reaches over to flick the bag of ice off her ankle and brings her leg down to my carpet. She looks down at me slowly, a lick of her lips and scan of my face lets me know she’s listening, waiting for my response.

I return her gaze. “Yes, I’ve really never done anything with a girl before.”

“Why? We’re much better. Better than whatever Julian is doing for you, I can tell you that much.” Paige’s voice is smug, teasing almost. I don’t know if she’s trying to rile me up between my legs or in my heart so I defend Julian. Either way it’s working, my heartbeat quickening in my chest.

“You seem sure about that.”

She nods. “I am. I think you forget how often you complain to me about that guy.” She says with a laugh.

The game in front of us is dying down, a three point lead for the Knicks with 40 seconds left in overtime, Oklahoma just now calling a timeout. I know she’s into the game, way more than me, but still she looks at me with an intensity that makes it feel like we’re the only two things in the world.

“Doesn’t mean a girl could do it better.”

Her eyes darted from my eyes to my lips, I’m expecting them to move. To look back at my eyes or even at the TV but she doesn’t. Just me.

“Y’believe that?” Paige asks me.

“Uh huh.” 

I’m going to lose. Whatever is going on with Paige and I, what has been going on for the last few weeks. The banter, the tension, the constant touching, it’s all a fight. Her and I are going back and forth like a fucking tennis match and she’s about to win. She’s about to make me lose whatever is left of my composure and grab the collar of her Hopkins High School t-shirt and kiss her until there’s no more breath in my lungs.

“Yeah? Ion know, can’t knock it till you try it.” She says, leaning into me for all of 5 milliseconds before sitting back in her seat and looking at the screen. The volume raises on my TV the cheers and commentary bouncing off the walls of my home.

Paige has left me frozen. Stuck there, in the exact position that she left me in. My eyes staring into the side of her perfect skin, burning holes there if I had the capability. I need her. My thighs are damn near glued together to keep me from dripping down my couch. 

I adjust my position some, sitting uncomfortably on my heels but with the way Paige is manspreading, it gives me just enough to be an inch taller than her. She looks at me, eyes trailing from my thighs past my covered stomach and chest, suddenly I’m hyper aware of how close my tits are from falling out of my Skims top.

“There some’ you wanna tell me, angel?” She asks. I hate the way that nickname makes me feel. She’s the only one that calls me that, the only one who makes me feel so small with just a single word. “Or you jus’ gonna keep lookin’ at me?”

The words just barely die in the air before I’m leaning into her, pressing my lips to hers. 

It starts off soft, so soft. Her body hesitates, like she knows better than to kiss me back but she does so anyway, tilting her head further and deepening the kiss. Paige hums against me, her arms still pressed against the back of the couch as if she has to avoid touching me. As if the second her hands touch my body then it’s game over. 

She bites my bottom lip, making me moan against her. I further into the kiss, cupping her cheek and then it really is game over. Paige reaches for my hips, lifting my body onto her lap and settling my thighs on the outside of hers.

Her tongue is entering my mouth, warm and tasting like candy. They’re clashing, messy and sticky and so damn hot. Now that I’ve gotten a taste of her I’m not sure I want to give it up. 

Paige roams my body with fervor. Trailing just a bit further to grab at my ass, kneading it in her large and veiny hands. I pull back from her breathlessly. Her hair is messy, lips so swollen and pink. It leaves me soaked as a response.

“This is doin’ so much damage. Y’know that?” She asks. Her hand travel back up my body to the back of my neck. I know it’s wrong, but still I let her pull me back into her. 

“Mmm, Ion wanna— stop.” I speak against her lips, letting her kiss me as she pleases. Grope me as she pleases. Talk to me as nasty as she wants to. I miss it, the feeling of being so vulgar with another person. Paige is on a different level and I want so much more. More of her, more than anyone has ever given me but for whatever reason I know that she can.

My phone starts ringing. I try to pull back to answer it but she pulls me right back, navigating my mouth with her tongue.

“Don’t.” She mumbles.

“I gotta.” I tell her pulling back with such force that I’m almost falling off the couch. I need to. Because if I don’t stop, I’m gonna let her see me in my most vulnerable state and even I know how wrong that would be. 

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, swiping to answer the call before I can even see who it is.

“Hello?” My voice is wheezy, and I’m huffing and puffing into the speaker.

“Hey, baby. You home?” 

It’s Julian. Of course it is. Of course God would let this man call me in the middle of making out with Paige just to make me feel guilty. Like the asshole I so obviously am right now.

“N— yeah. Yeah, but I’m busy. Sorry.” I stutter. “Paige is over right now.” I tell him honestly. But still, my breath hitches at my mention of her name. She rubs my thighs while I speak, looking at me like I’m a piece of meat. 

Her hand travels to her mouth, holding up one finger to her lips with a snide glare. I reach to slap her hand away, barely listening to what Julian says to me on the other line. 

Blah blah blah I miss you blah blah blah needa start hanging out with me blah blah less Paige. It’s gibberish. And I don't care.

“Yeah, okay. Goodnight Ju.” I tell him, bothered by his continued talking and wanting to occupy myself with something else. Namely, the pink lips in front of me that look so fucking pretty and the gorgeous face just inches away from mine.

I toss my phone on the couch after Julian responds and hangs up.

“You fuckin’ like me.”

“And don’t.” Just when I’m about to hop off of her lap, the TV blares loudly.

“Bang! Bang! Shai Gilgeous-Alexander takes us into double overtime!” Mike Breen’s cheers echo into my ears. Paige looks past me, obviously upset that she missed the shot.

“Damn. He’s good and fine?”

“Dont get fucked up, Raye.”

[snowysosturn]

Speeding Car - Matt Sturniolo Part 15

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

Pairing : y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary : After six years with your boyfriend Alex, you start to mentally check out. At a UCLA party, Alex reconnects with his childhood friend Emily, who proposes a double date with her boyfriend Matt. Your attraction to Matt grows as he pays you the first real attention you've had in years, sparking a complicated emotional journey.

Warnings : MDNI, arguments, tension, angst, toxic relationship, thoughts of cheating, cheating (dont fucking do this)

Like it was instinct, Matt disconnected his phone from the car, “I’ve got to take this” He muttered, before getting out and leaving.

The door closed with a thud, and Nick turned to me with a raised eyebrow. “Woah, who shoved a pole up his ass?”

I managed a weak smile, but my mind was elsewhere. Through the window, I watched Matt pacing while he talked to Emily, his body language tense and agitated. The time difference between here and Barcelona hit me, it was 9 AM there, which meant Emily was probably starting her day or ending it, jet lag provided. The realization made my stomach twist. While Matt was dealing with Emily, I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t heard from Alex yet either.

That thought sent a jolt through me, a sobering reminder of the reality of our situation. Both Matt and I were in relationships. The chemistry between us, the fact we’d almost kissed twice, it wasn’t just complicated, it was wrong.

When Matt finally got back into the car, I couldn’t help but glance his way, trying to read his expression, but his face was an unreadable mask. He looked tense, and I had to bite back the urge to ask him what they’d talked about.

Chris, of course, had no such hesitation. “So, what was that about?”

Matt sighed, clearly irritated, and ran a hand through his hair. “She said she just got to her hotel in Barcelona. She landed an hour ago, and she was already giving out about me not contacting her.” His voice took on a defensive edge. “Like, honestly, what does she want me to do? She was literally in the fucking air on a flight where she has no wifi. How am I supposed to contact her?”

Chris chuckled softly, but Matt wasn’t in the mood to joke. “Not to shit talk her, but seriously. What does she expect me to do?” He shook his head, frustration clear in every word.

The rest of the drive to my apartment felt awkward, a tension building from multiple places. Between Matt’s frustration with Emily, the unresolved moment between us at the beach, and my own tangled thoughts, the air in the car seemed thick with unspoken emotions.

When we finally pulled up to my apartment building, I was eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere. “I had a great night guys, thanks for the ride Matt..” I said, offering everyone a small smile as I unbuckled my seatbelt and reached for the door handle.

But before I could step out, Matt unfastened his seatbelt and got out too. “I’ll walk you to the door” he said, leaving no room for argument.

We walked side by side, the night air cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the car. The silence between us was heavy, but not uncomfortable, more like we were both lost in our own thoughts. Finally as we approached my door, I broke the silence. “Is everything okay with Emily?”

Matt shrugged, his gaze focused ahead. “Yeah it’s fine. She just.. gets worked up over stuff sometimes.”

I nodded, understanding more than he probably realized. “Well I haven’t heard from Alex yet today,” I admitted “But honestly, at this point, I don’t even really care.”

Matt stopped walking, turning to face me. We stood in front of each other, and I could feel the weight of his gaze. There was nothing that could happen between us with everyone still in the car watching, but the pull was undeniable. I could feel the unspoken words hanging in the air between us, the unsaid truths that neither of us were ready to confront.

“What are you doing over the next few days?” Matt asked, his tone casual, but there was something more behind the question.

“Im working tomorrow, back to normal shifts.. Thank god.” I replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “I’ve a few days off after though.”

“Do you want to hang out sometime?” he asked, the hope in his eyes barely concealed.

I hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

He smiled, and for a second, the tension from the car seemed to melt away, replaced by something lighter, something that felt a lot like excitement. We stood there for a moment longer, neither of us wanting to end the moment, but aware that it had to end nonetheless.

“Alright, I’ll text you" he said, taking a small step back.

“Sounds good” I replied, turning to unlock my door.

As I walked inside, I couldn’t help but glance back at him. He gave me one last smile before heading back to the car, and I closed the door behind me, my heart racing with anticipation for whatever the next few days would bring.

Matt’s POV

Walking off the beach back to the car felt like I was leaving something important behind, something unfinished. My mind was still buzzing from the moments Y/n and I had shared again, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d been on the verge of something real with her..something I wasn’t sure how to handle but knew I wanted.

As soon as I got back into the driver’s seat, my phone buzzed. It was Emily, her name lighting up the dashboard like a flashlight in the dark car. I disconnected my phone from the car immediately and the car fell into an uneasy silence.

“I’ve got to take this” I muttered, as I got out of the car, slighting banging the door behind me.

As I stepped out of the car, the cool evening air of the beach hit me, but it did little to calm the anxiety bubbling up inside. I glanced back at the group, still chatting and laughing in the car and then down at my phone, where Emily's name was flashing. I knew this call was going to be rough, but I took a deep breath and answered anyway.

"Hey, Em" I greeted, trying to sound casual.

"Don't 'Hey, Em' me, Matt," she snapped immediately, her tone sharp and accusatory. "Why the hell haven't you contacted me? I've been on a flight for hours, and you couldn't even send a text?"

I felt frustration rise up inside me. I loved Emily, but sometimes, she made everything feel like a test I was failing. "Emily, you were in the air. How am I supposed to contact you? You've been flying across the Atlantic. What do you want me to do?"

"That's not the point!" she hissed. "You didn't even try. You could've sent something before I got on the plane. It's like you don't even care."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to keep my cool. "You know I care. But come on, Em, be realistic. You just landed in Barcelona, one of the most beautiful cities in the world, and you're picking a fight with me over this?"

Then there was a pause, I thought that would be the end of that until I heard her take a deep breath in. "Where are you right now, Matt? What are you doing?"

I hesitated for a split second, glancing back at Y/n and the others in the car. "I'm just out with the group. We're at the beach, nothing crazy."

Emily's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Is Y/n there?"

My heart skipped a beat, but I forced my voice to stay steady. Lie. "No, she’s not. Why would she be? It’s just me, Nick, Chris, Nate and Madi"

"Good.." Emily said, her voice dripping with venom. "Because if she was, I swear Matt I’ll make her life hell. She has no business being around you guys. She’s Alex’s girlfriend, Matt. It’s completely inappropriate."

Anger flared up inside me. I knew Emily could be possessive, but this was too much. "Emily, you’re being ridiculous. Y/n’s a friend. And even if she was here, she’s not doing anything wrong. She’s Alex’s girlfriend, yes, but she’s also one of Nick’s good friends now too. We’re just hanging out as a group, nothing more."

"Don’t you dare defend her to me, Matt," Emily warned. 

I clenched my jaw, feeling cornered. "Emily, this is stupid. You’re in Spain, for fuck sake. Why are we even having this conversation? I’m with friends, you’re on the other side of the world, and you’re turning this into a fight over nothing."

"It’s not nothing, Matt. It’s about respect. I’m warning you. Don’t push me on this."

I closed my eyes, the weight of exhaustion and frustration bearing down on me. "Emily, I’m not pushing you. I’m just trying to live my life. We can talk about this when you’re back, but right now, I just want to enjoy my evening with my friends. Can you please just relax?"

There was a tense silence before Emily finally sighed. "Fine. But this isn’t over, Matt. Not by a long shot."

"Yeah, I figured," I muttered under my breath, then louder, "We’ll talk later, okay? Enjoy Barcelona."

"Whatever," Emily replied coldly. "I’ll talk to you later."

I ended the call, a mix of anger and guilt churning in my stomach. I knew I’d lied to her about Y/n being here, but admitting the truth would’ve only blown everything up. As I paced outside the car, trying to shake off the conversation, Emily's words hung over me like a dark cloud.

When I finally walked back to the group waiting in the car, I couldn't even force a smile, but inside, I couldn’t stop wondering how much longer I could keep this up, balancing between what Emily wanted and what I was starting to realize I wanted for myself.

As I sat back into the car, Chris, never one to let things slide, shot me a look. “So, what was that about?”

I sighed, trying to push down the frustration that had been building in me. “She said she just got to her hotel in Barcelona. She landed an hour ago, and she was already giving out about me not contacting her.” My voice taking on a defensive edge.  “Like, honestly, what does she want me to do? She was literally in the fucking air on a flight where she has no wifi. How am I supposed to contact her?”

Chris chuckled softly, but I could tell he didn’t get it, didn’t understand the kind of pressure I was under with her sometimes. “Not to shit talk her, but honestly, what does she expect me to do?”

No one responded, and the awkward tension lingered as I pulled the car away from the curb and started the drive to Y/n’s apartment. My mind wasn’t even on the road, it was stuck between the frustration of dealing with Emily’s expectations and the nagging thoughts of Y/n sitting so close, yet so far away in the backseat.

When we arrived, Y/n was quick to say her goodbyes, as if she was eager to escape the car's tension. But something in me wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. Without really thinking about it, I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out of the car. “I’ll walk you to the door,” I said, already moving toward her.

As we walked together, the night air did little to cool the frustration still simmering under my skin. But being near her, even in silence, was calming in its own way. I knew I shouldn’t feel this way, not when I had Emily, but I couldn’t help it. There was just something about Y/n that made everything feel right, even when it wasn’t.

“Is everything okay with Emily?” Y/n’s voice broke the silence, her concern genuine.

I shrugged, trying to play it off like it was no big deal. “Yeah it’s fine. She just.. gets worked up over stuff sometimes.”

I didn’t tell her how Emily had asked where I was, what I was doing, and who I was with. I didn’t mention that I’d purposely left out the fact that Y/n was here with us, knowing it would only cause unnecessary drama. Emily had a way of turning small things into big issues, and the last thing I wanted was grief over something that wasn’t even a problem yet. Especially when I wanted to keep hanging out with Y/n, to get to know her better without the complications.

Y/n nodded, seeming to understand more than I’d said. “I haven’t heard from Alex yet today” she admitted quietly. “But honestly, at this point, I don’t even really care.”

We stopped walking, and I turned to face her. The moment felt heavy, like we were on the edge of something we couldn’t take back. I wanted to tell her how much I enjoyed her company, how being around her made everything else fade into the background. But instead, I asked, “What are you doing over the next few days?”

“Im working tomorrow, back to normal shifts, thank god.” she said with a small smile, and I could see a spark of curiosity in her eyes. “I’m off for a few days after though.”

“Do you want to hang out sometime?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual, but knowing full well that this wasn’t casual for me.

She hesitated for a second, and I held my breath, but then she nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Relief washed over me, and I smiled, feeling lighter than I had all night. “Alright, I’ll text you.”

She turned to unlock her door, and as she stepped inside, she glanced back at me, returning my smile before disappearing into her apartment.

As I walked back to the car, the frustration from Emily’s call was still there, simmering under the surface, but it was muted now by the anticipation of seeing Y/n soon. I climbed back into the car, but before I could start the engine, my phone buzzed again, a text message from Emily, reminding me she was still very much a part of my life, whether I wanted to think about it or not.

I ignored the message and started driving. I couldn’t deal with Emily right now. My mind was too full of Y/n, the way she looked at me, the way she made me feel, like I was finally doing something right.

The drive to her apartment had felt awkward, but now it was filled with something else. A sense of possibility, a chance to explore whatever this was between us. As long as Emily didn't find out.

Y/n’s POV

The morning sun spilled through the blinds into my bedroom as I dragged myself out of bed, feeling the weight of the last night settling in my chest. I couldn’t stop replaying the whole night in my head. Wishing it was something I could do over and over again. It was all that consumed my thoughts on my drive to work.

Arriving at work, I headed straight to the staff room to put my things away. My phone buzzed, and I glanced down to see a message from Alex.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t text sooner. I slept the whole first day away. Jet lag hit me hard. Have you heard anything from the board yet?”

I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the screen. Alex always relied on me to check his emails, he said it overwhelmed him too much, but today, the thought of logging in overwhelmed me that bit more. Still, I couldn’t avoid it. I owed him that much.

Opening his email, I saw the awaited message from the board sitting in his inbox. My heart pounded as I clicked on it. The words on the screen felt like a punch to the gut:

“Dear Mr.Jenkins,

After further investigation, we have decided to extend Alex's suspension by an additional six weeks. Furthermore, his captaincy has been permanently revoked.

Regretfully,

UCLA Bruins Board of Management.”

I stared at the email, my mind racing. I felt awful for Alex, this was his dream, his life, but I knew telling him now, while he was thousands of miles away, it would ruin his trip. Maybe it was best to wait until he was home. I didn’t want to be the one to deliver the final blow to his happiness.

The staff room door creaked open behind me, snapping me out of my thoughts. I turned to see Jess walking in, her face lighting up when she saw me.

"Y/N! It’s been ages!" she exclaimed, pulling me into a quick hug. But when she pulled back, her smile faltered. "Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

I took a deep breath, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “Yeah, I just read an email from the Bruins management, they’ve suspended Alex for another six weeks and took his captaincy away, all over the stupid fight.. I don’t know if I should tell him or not, he's in Barcelona at the minute.. What a stupid decision the fight wasn’t even his fault.” I said, running my hands down my face. Jess listened intently, her expression softening with concern, but she also stood looking at me as if I had 10 heads.

"I think you’re right to wait.." she said gently. "But the fight.. did he ever tell you how it started?"

I frowned, shaking my head. "He just said one of the boys was acting up, it was a stupid fight nothing more."

Jess sighed, looking uncomfortable. "Oh.. Look I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this but I was there that night. I still decided to go out to that new club, remember? I just went out with some other friends, I didn’t see the whole thing, but I heard enough. The fight started because Alex and Emily were holding hands. His teammate Jay called Alex out, you know reminding him he has a girlfriend and Alex got defensive and lost it. Jay was defending you, Y/n."

The words hit me like a freight train. Alex and Emily? Holding hands? My mind spun as Jess continued.

"I wanted to tell you that night.." She admitted, guilt lacing her voice. "I even sent you a message, but I deleted it. I thought Alex should be the one to tell you."

I felt sick to my stomach. To some people, holding hands might not be cheating, but to me, it absolutely was. It was a betrayal, a violation of trust, a mark of disrespect and a line crossed. And the worst part was, deep down, I was surprised. I knew the relationship was fading away, not from my own doing, but I never expected him to do anything like that. I couldn’t deny to myself that I’d been feeling something for Matt, but nothing had actually happened between us. And plus, those thoughts wouldn’t have crossed my mind if I’d been treated right in the first place.

"I can’t believe this" I muttered, more to myself than to Jess. But even as the shock settled in, there was a strange sense of relief. This was it - my way out. I knew then that I was going to break up with Alex when he came home. There was no going back.

Jess bit her lip, hesitating before speaking again. "Y/n, there’s more.. I overheard something else that night. Emily was in the bathroom, talking to some girl she seemed friendly with. She was telling her how she likes her boyfriend.. Matthew? for his money and what he can give her.. but she also wants Alex and that she needs you out of the way so she can have both.."

I felt like I was going to vomit. The betrayal was deeper than I could have imagined. Emily had been playing both sides, using Alex and Matt for her own gain. Did she think she could seriously have both at the same time? Somehow, knowing this didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Maybe because, deep down, I’d already accepted that things were over between Alex and me.

The rest of my shift passed in a blur, the weight of betrayal pressing down on me with every step. But it was a strange kind of numbness, as if I’d already grieved the loss of this relationship long before today. By the time I clocked out, I’d made up my mind. I wasn’t going to tell Alex about the board’s decision. He didn’t deserve my sympathy anymore.

As I left work, I finally responded to his message. "Aw jet lag sucks. Nope, nothing."

When I got home, Jess texted to say she’d come over later to hang out, which I appreciated. I needed the company. The hours sat on my couch passed by in a flash, my thoughts consumed by all that was revealed to me today, I couldn’t believe how fake Emily is either. Surely Matt should know this information too? Is it my place to say? We both are involved in this now? After a while, I sat up and grabbed my phone to try to find something on UberEats, my appetite was gradually starting to come back, when there was suddenly a knock on the door. “Perfect timing” I thought to myself, hopefully Jess hasn’t eaten yet and we can both order something together. I walked to the front door, unlocking the safety latch but when I opened it, my heart skipped a beat.

It wasn’t Jess, it was Matt.

“Hey sorry for just appearing.. Are you free for the night?”

a/n: everybody say thaaaank youuuu jessss!!!

taglist : @muwapsturniolo @anitahunt @sturnfannn @jayde510 @chrissfavhoe @babyalliah-777 @v33angel @urmom69lol @willowrites @ribread03 @2muchofaslvt @sturnsaver @sleepysturniolo @jcsturniolo11 @jessie-essie @hoeforchrizz @mynbbys @sturniolopanini @mattsturnxoxo @delicatechrry @t77te @sturnsyaper69 @hotdismylife @maggot3647 @ivysturnss @noplaceissafeanymore @mattssgf @yourfavsturniologirl @maethem0nth @sillyponygrl @mattyblover07 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @dominicfikeenthusiast @mattsfavbigtitties @ncm9696 @chrisstvrns @schlutt4matty @chrissolos @ilusa

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Princess

Mike Schmidt x Female! Reader

Summary: You detest having a roommate. You enjoy cheap rent. One of these things is going to have to change at some point, and with the week you're having? There's only so long before people reach a breaking point.

Tags: Smut. Filthy smut. (This is the first smut I've published too, so enjoy that.) Enemies to lovers, mocking, Mike is so OoC at some parts you could really shove anyone into this role, I'm going to be so extremely for real. (I'm honestly just feral for the actor. Sorry.) Hate fucking, dirty talk, cursing, cucking(??), listening in, masturbating, dumbification, slight dacrophillia(??), Abby's out of the equation for this scenario. Imagine like, early 20s Mike, he's not caretaker yet. Praising, pet names (good girl, princess, whore, pretty girl), no use of Y/N. Dom! Mike, teasing Reader, Brat (??) Reader, phone sex, walking in on masturbation, walking in on sex, possessive! Mike, hickies/bite marks, finger sucking, hair pulling, slut shaming, probably missing some things imma be honest. Just assume this is depraved.

Notes: I'd like to apologize to God and Josh Hutcherson. This is filth and I recognize my eternal soul is indeed damned. Anyways, bone apple teet.

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

I didn't mind Mike when I met him, you know.

He's quiet. Shy. Keeps to himself. Those traits should make for a good roommate. If he'd kept his mess confined to his room, maybe the music that he blares just a little too loudly wouldn't be so headache inducing.

My fingers rap on the thin door, demanding his attention which is never given to me unless I make a production out of it. We both know that.

"Michael," I say.

Silence.

"Mike."

Nothing.

I open the door and there he is, peacefully asleep on his bed as the bass shakes the water in his glass. I sigh and click off the stereo, then turn to leave. It's incredible how quickly I hear him shift on the bed, scrambling to stand.

"The fuck?" He croaks, wiping sleep from his eyes.

"Your music was blaring. I already heard it from Mrs. Jones upstairs about you waking her kid up, I'm not dealing with that again," I say raising my hands up in the air defensively.

"I don't sleep well," he says.

"Neither does the baby," I say.

Mike rolls his eyes, turning the music back on and turning his back to me.

"Michael-"

"Don't call me that," he interrupts.

It's my turn to roll my eyes. "Schmidt, can you at least turn it down? I'm asking nicely," I say. He stands there for a moment and though I can't see his face, I know he's thinking.

Finally, with a sigh he says "Fine, princess."

"Don't call me that," I say. I hear a small huff of laughter from him and he turns to look at me.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hit a nerve?" He asks with false sympathy.

"It's a simple request," I say. My eyes narrow at him in irritation.

"Which one?"

"Both."

We stand there for a moment, both of us sizing the other up, taking each other in.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine."

With the agreement having been made, I turn to leave, shutting the door behind me.

Year long lease. Joy.

-Tuesday-

"Hurry up!" Yells Mike, pounding on the bathroom door.

"I'm fucken hurrying!" I yell back, my hands working as fast as they can to wash off my body. Late alarm, fever dreams causing me to wake in a pool of stinking sweat, and one bathroom make for a horrendous cocktail of repeated 'fuck you's through the cheap door.

"I'm gonna be late!" Mike yells.

"So am I, I'm sorry!"

There's a moment of long silence and I think maybe Mike has finally found a spot of pity, realizing that maybe we aren't enemies but simply humans who unfortunately have to coexist in this world together. Then the water turns freezing, and I realize I hate him.

"Michael!" I practically scream. Traces of soap still reside on my body, but the cold and my alarm both force me out. Angered and not thinking clearly, I wrap the towel around my dripping waist and swing the door open.

"Are you fucking happy?" I sneer, face inches from his.

His expression is initially satisfied, but as his eyes flicker downwards he and I both realize my mistake. His eyes widen, lingering for a moment on my bare chest as he processed what he was seeing, then returning to meet my glare.

"What?" I ask sharply. "You've never seen a pair before?"

He stammers. "I-I have."

"Don't act like it," I say. "Take a fucken photo, be the only pair you'll probably ever see in your life, dicksmack."

As though he remembers himself, his eyes narrow. "Move, princess."

I slam past him, walking quickly towards my room and slamming the door behind me.

"Don't wake the baby!" Mike mocks down the hall.

Oh, motherfucker. It is on.

-Wednesday-

It's hard to break a lease. It's harder when nothing as cheap exists in the area. This is a problem for both Mike and I. I know it's true for him because apparently even his bills are too troublesome to keep on the floor of his room. But despite his mess, it's him that comes barreling down the hall, bursting into my room with no warning.

"Jesus, Michael!" I start, spinning around in my chair. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"

"Have you ever heard of washing a dish?" He sneers. "It's not hard. My baby sister could do it."

"Oh, is she available? I'd love to see how she'd handle your laundry situation," I retort.

"Why is it impossible for you to actually wash something? You'll put water in it, let it soak. I respect that, but then you never come back to it. Do you enjoy flies? I think you enjoy flies," he says with hate dripping off of his words. I roll my eyes, but he's not entirely wrong either.

"Fine," I mutter. "I'll do the dishes. Sorry."

"See? Look at how hard that was, princess." He begins to turn away.

"Will you quit fucking calling me that?" I snap.

"I'm following our bargin. You're the one who slips first, princess," he says while laughing, raising his hands in defense.

A long moment passes, neither of us willing to back down.

"Do the dishes yourself," I say finally, turning back to the computer.

"Not my mess," he says.

"Too bad. I'm too delicate," I say with a faux breathiness to my voice. The door slams behind him, which has me instantly rising from my chair to race after him.

"Don't slam my door!" I say.

"You did it the other day!" He says, spinning around to face me and almost slipping on one of his shirts littering the hall. I can't help but smile at that.

"Problems?" I ask.

"Yeah, they exist in whatever demon spawned you," he hisses. His eyes catch on something though, narrowing as he leans slightly closer. "The fuck is on your neck?" He asks.

"The fuck you mean 'the fuck is on my neck?'" I ask.

"I mean you've got something on your neck," he says.

"No I don't," I say. "Move." I shove past him to enter the bathroom beside us, flicking on the light and feeling my irritation rise as he reaches to do the same thing simultaneously.

"See?" He says, pointing at a small, dark mark on my neck.

Fuck.

"I don't fucken know what that is," I lie, covering it with my hand.

"You liar, that's a hickey!" He says still pointing at it.

"Is not!"

"Is too. What, are you fucking some high-schooler?" He scoffs.

"Adults leave hickies too, Mike. It can be enjoyable. You'd know this if someone ever wanted to fuck you," I spit back.

"Who on earth would enjoy having sex with you?" He asks. "The only loads you leave attract flies I don't want to have to deal with come summer."

My jaw drops in shock.

"And the only loads you leave smell like menthols and depression!" I retort.

Staring. Always staring with this guy. Jaws clentched, eyes narrowed.

"Just don't bring this guy around here," he finally says. His voice is quieter but the edge is still there.

I blink. "What?"

"You heard me," he says. "I don't need to hear your shrill voice like that."

Am I imagining things or is he blushing? No, I'm definitely imagining things. It's the florescents.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I taunt. The fuck kind of response was that?

His eyes widen slightly. "No," he says a little too quickly.

"What, you get one look at my tits and now you're thinking about that degenerate shit?" I press, stepping closer.

"I don't- this-" He's blundering. I've got him now, I've found his weak spot.

Without a word, I slip out of the bathroom and return to my room, shutting the door and beginning a plan that will guarantee I won't have to worry about being the roommate that breaks lease and looks for a new apartment.

-Thursday-

"Are you close, baby?" The sweet voice on the phone asks me. The battery on my toy is flashing, showing one of us needs to finish soon. And while I like Nick, there was just something lacking in him that kept me on this irritating edge, hiding my release from me.

"I'm close," I confirm, switching hands to try and hit a new angle. The video on the computer is doing nothing to help with this at all, and I'm so bored I'm tempted to just fake it and seal the deal.

The plan was simple. Establish dominance over my roommate via fucking a guy I'd met at some party the week before. Nick was an easy target, too busy thinking with his dick to question why I was suddenly insistent on him coming over. And to guarantee his presence at the apartment, I would have to put in work. Not that I wasn't fully uninterested. He was alright, I was single. Beneficial for everyone involved.

The vibrator finally found that sweet spot, the one that made me cry out softly into the receiver as my wrist pumped with newfound vigor.

"Close," I told Nick. "Isn't as good as you though."

Nick chuckles softly. "You're sweet," he says. Then he's prattling sweet praises, whimpering into the phone breathily along with me as I finally begin to tip over the edge, moaning loudly and clearly. It's my luck that Mike should be at work at this moment.

Should be.

Wasn't.

The door opens as Mike walks in, his mind obviously focused on something else but immediately taken aback at the sight of me sprawled upon the bed, legs open, toy in hand, Nick on phone, porn on computer. Shit.

"Jesus!" Mike shouts. "It's the middle of the day!"

"Get the fuck out!" I shout back, my voice less vicious than I'd like given that I was mid-ruined orgasm. Mike covers his eyes, trying to stumble out of the door without looking, muttering a dozen apologies a second before finally reaching and slamming the door shut behind him.

Nick and I are both silent for a long while, neither of us sure what to say.

"So... I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask finally.

"...yeah." He says. And with the click of my phone, the plan is solidified.

-

I don't see Mike that evening until about three hours later when he finally emerges from his room with pink cheeks and clothed in a large hoodie he seems to wish would swallow him whole.

"Hey," I say to him. I chew on my cheap food slowly, flipping through my novel at the cluttered table.

"Hi," he says quietly, not really making eye contact with me. He crosses to the cabinets, taking out a glass and filling it with water. We listen to the tap for a moment before I finally say "I didn't mean for you to see that."

His eyebrows scrunch in confusion. "I got that."

More silence. The tap shuts off and he leans against the sink, taking a long sip.

"So... hickey guy?" He finally asks. And I can't help the snort that escapes me.

"Nick," I say.

"And he's...?" Mike is testing the waters, that much is obvious.

"Canadian," I say.

Mike nods. Sip. Silence.

"Nick, from Canada," he says slowly.

"Yep," I say, popping the 'p.'

Mike looks at his drink in thought.

"So you're into Canadians," he finally says. I think for a moment.

"No," I say. I mark my book and close it. "Just bored."

"Just bored?" Mike asks.

"Just bored," I confirm.

Sip. Silence. Thinking.

"You... do that regularly?" He asks.

"I mean... I like sex," I say.

His cheeks redden at that, and he takes another sip as though to hide that.

"He's coming over tomorrow," I say casually. Mike's eyes dart to mine, dark and wide.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Another sip. He finishes his glass.

"Should I find plans for tomorrow?" He asks finally.

"No," I say a bit too quickly. Both of our cheeks redden at that. "I mean, we won't... shouldn't...." I don't know what I mean.

Mike stares at me thoughtfully for a moment then looks back to the glass in his hand.

"You're pretty loud, princess," he finally says quietly.

There's a new tension in the air. One that isn't brought on by hate or dirty dishes. One that I don't mind strangely.

"You could join us, if you'd like," I offer. Mike's grip on the glass tightens so suddenly I'm almost surprised it doesn't burst.

"I- I'm pretty sure I'd get in the way," he stammers. Then his eyes darken, a strange look in them. "Besides, I don't like being a whore."

This comment stings. Deeply.

"I'm not a whore," I say defensively.

"Oh?" Mike asks.

"He's the only guy I've fucked in months, so yeah," I say.

"Oh, is that why I hear you moaning late at night all the fucking time?" Mike says. "Seriously, you're fucking loud."

"And you're a fucking virgin," I snap.

"Says who?" He asks.

"Forget it," I say. I gather my things and rise from my chair. "Don't fucking talk to me."

"Fine," he scoffs. "I'll wash this dish too, princess," he calls after me.

I spin around. "You would be so much more fuckable if you were easy to swallow," I snapped, stomping my foot like a child.

Both of us stare at each other in a bit of shock at what I just said.

"Most girls swallow just fine, thank you," he retorts.

"Who's the whore now?" I say. I don't wait for him to respond, slamming the door shut behind me.

Fine. Let him hate me. That's the whole point of this anyways. Then it'll be me and someone else in this terrible fucking apartment. Maybe it'll be Nick. Anyone would be better, I tell myself.

...

...how easy is Mike to swallow?

-Friday-

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't struggling to remember the correct name right now.

Nick is underneath me, pumping his cock in and out like no tomorrow as I grind against him. My jaw is slack, my hands buried in the blankets fabric underneath of us. I'm staring at the thin door though, the thin door that I know leaks every little noise whether there's a towel under the enormous crack or not. And the shadows of footsteps that I see make it all the easier for Nick to continue his shallow rhythm, edging me closer and closer.

"Mi-Nick," I moan loudly. It sounds endearing, thankfully. But my heart races at how close I've come to fucking things up in a few different ways. "Fuck, you're thick," I moan. It's not particularly true, but his size is fine, so what's an ego boost to help him along the way?

Nick is sweet underneath of me, moaning that I'm his, that we're each others. That's great and all, but God. There is this missing edge. And it isn't until I hear pounding on the bedroom door that I finally feel real excitement begin to flow through me.

"We need to talk," Mike's voice says firmly.

Nick looks guilty, his eyes wide and asking for silent guidance. I don't respond, simply continuing to slide up and down Nick's cock and moaning while doing so.

"Hey, princess," Mike says firmer, pounding on the door again. "Think you can stop Oh-ing Canada and come talk to me like a fucking adult?"

I don't stop, grinding harder against Nick's base. My hands find my clit, rubbing it as I respond.

"I told you you were welcome to join us," I moan. Nick looks at me like I've gone utterly insane, and maybe I have. Maybe I'm completely delusional about all of this, but I couldn't care less as I feel my dripping cunt tighten to the point even Nick doesn't care what happens so long as he comes inside of me.

"Mi-Nick," I moan. "Mi-ne, mi-ne." Come on, Schmidt. Catch the fucking hint.

All night I had been plauged with dreams about Michael fucking Schmidt. I'd noticed when we met he was attractive to me. I liked his hands, his stubble. God, his shoulders made me think things that will probably send me straight to Hell. But hate usually kept these thoughts at bay. Last night however, the dreams wouldn't stop coming. Over and over, a new fantasy of him emerged in my head. Him underneath of me as a writing mess, him begging for more, my tits in his mouth as he finished inside me. It was depraved. I wanted it.

The door bursts open just as Nick is finishing inside of me. It's the look in Mike's eyes that causes me to finish, all while keeping eye contact with him as well.

Nick is quick to flip me on my back, covering my body haphazardly with a blanket prattling excuse after excuse. Apparently we're sorry. Apparently we had gotten too wrapped up in the moment because apparently, you know how it is, right man?

But it doesn't matter. Mike isn't looking at Nick, who's pulling on his shirt above me. Mike's looking at me, watching my fingers that trail gently along my areolas, flicking lightly at my hardened nipples and clearly longing for more.

"Mike wouldn't know the first thing about pleasing a woman," I say with little thought.

"Oh?" Both of them ask me.

"I think you should leave, Nick. Mike and I are going to have a little talk, and I don't want you to see how ugly this may get," I say without breaking eye contact with Mike.

The sudden shift in the air is not subtle, so maybe that's why Nick doesn't really hesitate to listen to me.

"I'll call you later," he says as he stumbles past Mike.

"Don't bother," Mike calls after him. Mike slams the bedroom door shut, locking it before turning to me and raising an eyebrow.

"Is there something you'd like to say to me?" Mike asks, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms as his stands tall.

My hand dips to between my thighs where Nick and I's cum pools out, coating me in the thick stuff.

"Sorry," I say in a spoiled tone, smiling.

Mike's eyes scan my entire body. From the hickies coating my neck, to my breasts and even my thighs, I can see a new wave of anger washes over him. At least, it looks like anger. There's something else mixed with it too, something I desperately want to play with.

"You're not sorry for shit," he says. He's correct.

"I told you last night, I like fucking people," I say as my fingers circle my clit.

Mike's jaw tightens. "You like fucking people," he repeats.

I can see him grind his teeth. He's silent for another moment. "And do you like... him?"

I giggle. "You tell me," I say with a soft and low voice.

His eyebrows twitch. "You're still... going?" He asks with an unsure edge to his voice.

"Yes, Michael. This is what a woman looks like when she's turned on," I say in a mocking tone, batting my lashes as my fingers dip into my entrance. "Would you like to try?"

He steps closer, bending down ever so slightly to stand over me.

"Don't call me that," he says in a low growl.

"Make me," I taunt.

He blinks.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

A startled yelp escapes me as Mike grabs my hips, dragging me roughly to the edge of the bed. He spreads my legs, stepping between them and slips his rough thumb inside of me with no hesitation.

"Fuck. You do like him," he groans, his other hand fiddling with his belt. I can see how hard he is underneath his jeans, his fingers clumsy but working quickly at the items covering him.

"He's oka-ay," I say quickly, my voice trailing off into a soft moan. His thumb explores the inside of my cunt, probing the wet muscle and massaging inside of me spots a man had never taken time to look for before. "Your finger's thick," I moan.

Mike chuckles, freeing himself and pumping into his hand slowly as he presses his thumb deeper inside of me.

"You told Nick he was thick too," he says. "That just your line with guys?"

It is, but this time I actually mean it. So I shake my head. "No," I say quietly.

"I don't believe you," Mike says. He slips his thumb out of me, making me clench around nothing. I open my mouth to protest only for Mike to quickly shove his thumb into my mouth, touching the back of my throat while he sinks his cock into me.

"Go on, pretty girl," he moans. "Take it like the proud whore you are."

I gag around his thumb, both from the sudden intrusion and from the taste. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't like this, if I said that his actions didn't make me even more wet and that I didn't suck his thumb greedily, wrapping my tongue around it and sucking it clean until I can only taste his rough flesh. I swear it makes his dick twitch.

His cock slides in and out of me with ease, taking his time to feel how I wrap around him.

"Fuck," he drawls. "It's been awhile."

I moan around his thumb, running my tongue along the underside and trying to rock my hips against him to tell him to speed up. Instead, he presses a hand down on my lower stomach, pinning me down as he sinks in fully. At first glance his size is average, but inside of me it's overstimulating how he fills me just a little too much.

His thumb presses further into my throat, making me gag as he tilts his head back in pleasure.

"You are just demanding. Do you know that?" He asks. I try to respond, but he simply presses his thumb against a spot that makes me gag once more.

"Nothing's good enough for you. Not even Nick. You didn't even cum until I came in here," he laughed cruelly, looking down at where we connect. His other thumb trails down to rub my clit slowly, making me writhe underneath him and clench around his still cock.

"Never shutting up. Till now. I like it when you're quiet, princess. Makes you easier to swallow." He presses deeper inside of me, making me whine in overstimulation.

"You're mine now," he says, slowly pulling out. "You can call Nick all you want. Call him, fuck him. But we both know he's not gonna make you cum like I will." Just his tip remains in me, barely staying in before he slams back into me so hard I scream.

"So what's the point?" Mike asks, slowly slipping out once more. "Do you like pitting men against each other like that?" He slams back into me. My eyes water, but I don't protest.

This time when he pulls back, he stays there. I wait for him, trying to he patient. But then he removes his thumb and wraps his hand around his length instead.

"What?" I ask, my voice raw.

"Say it," Mike says as he jerks himself off slowly.

"Say what?" I ask.

"I'm not gonna fuck you like you want unless you say you're mine," he says casually. His tip is bright red and leaking precum, his length coated in Nick and I's milky cum.

"Fuck you," I say. Mike just laughs.

"You're the one laying here crying over some dick," he taunts. "I just want to make sure we're on the same page here, princess."

I try to hold strong, I really do. It'd be more fun if I did. But fuck. The way he stands over me, his shoulders broad. I could never deny I liked the sight of his hands either, and seeing them tug as his pulsing cock while he stared down at me with that stupid fucking smile?

It's not fair.

"I'm yours," I say quietly.

"Hmm?" Mike asks, pumping his dick quicker now. I can see how hard his veins are, and the sounds of him fucking his own hand make me want him more.

"Yours," I repeat slightly louder.

"Use proper English," he says. His face has this stupid blissful look on it, his mouth slightly open as he pants, fucking himself and watching me as he does.

"I am yours," I hiss through gritted teeth. It doesn't even take a full second before he's buried in me once more, his hands pinning my knees to my shoulders and fucking me with enough speed I'm genuinely scared he'll hurt me. And I love it.

"I'm going to make you mine," he grins, his voice suddenly turning feral.

"I'm going to make you mine so much that you won't even be able to remember what Nick's name is, let alone what he looks like. Or what he feels like."

"Uh huh," I whine. My voice is so unusually high and ragged, my mouth slack and eyes rolling back in pleasure. I rock against his hips, trying to find my second edge. I'm babbling, whether I'm asking for mercy or more is anyone's guess.

He laughs at me, and it's a harsh and cruel laugh - not at all like the usual sarcasm and mockery he displays. Instead, his laugh comes from a place that is raw and angry and vicious, the kind of laugh a wolf makes when he's about to go for the kill.

"What's the matter?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Not quite the big, bad man that he's made you think he was, is he? How disappointing," he continues, his hips thrusting into me repeatedly.

I cry loudly with each new thrust. His movements are cruel, borderline abusive. Christ, I love it.

"Bigger," I whine. "Bigger."

He teeth nip at my throat, sinking in hard enough I'll be wearing sweaters and scarves for weeks. Makeup won't touch the color.

"Bigger?" He asks in a mocking voice. "What's bigger?"

"You're bigger," I moan. My voice is broken, and there's no way the neighbors don't hear the degeneracy occurring around them. Sorry, Mrs. Jones.

"What are you going for?" he snaps, his eyes narrowing and his voice growing more and more vicious. "Big bad Mike?" he giggles, his grip tightening on my ankles as he continues plunging into me.

A loud scream escapes me as Mike finds my g spot. He doesn't relent, focusing on the spot and abusing it while I sob and try to wiggle away, completely overstimulated from pleasure and unable to handle it.

His hands pin me against him, trapping me where I am and forcing me to take him however he wants me to.

"You want more?" he asks, taking one hand away from my ankles, grabbing and pulling my hair harshly, forcing me to stare into his eyes. His pupils are so blown out I can't even see his pretty hazel irises. They're dark and predatory, his breath hot and heavy with rage.

"Is that what you want?" he asks, pulling back and plunging into my aching cunt again.

"Yes!" It's a violent scream that escapes me, feeling myself begin to tip over the edge. His eyes sparkle, his lips in a smile that shows he knows he's won.

"And what would Nick say if he could see you like this? All mine, all mine..." he taunts.

"Huh?" I'm completely stupid, my body coming undone so suddenly around his dick with cries, screams, whimpers and everything inbetween. Nick was foreplay and I've no mental energy to remember any detail that isn't Mike's.

"Don't even know his name?" Mike laughs. "You can't even remember his name, can you?" he grins, his eyes narrow again as he tugs my hair and shoves himself in further.

"Uh uh," I pant in a high voice. My body shakes terribly, his pounding length already edging me once more as he continues abusing my spot. How on earth am I supposed to walk after this?

"Then let me help you remember his name," he says. "Say his name."

"Mike," I moan pathetically. I'm right back on that edge, crying and feeling as though I'll burst from overstimulation.

"Louder," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Say it louder. Say his name loud enough for him to hear you."

"Mike!" I scream it religiously as I come undone a second time, gripping him to the point I can feel how close he is too. I hear him laugh above me, his other hand now wrapping around my throat and choking me slightly.

"That's my name," he says with mocking gentleness. "Say his name or I won't finish."

"I don't remember," I sob. Jesus Christ, do I have problems? "Just want you!"

His face glows, his lips split into a wide grin of satisfaction.

"So you want me, do you, princess?"

I nod pathetically. He's throbbing, slamming into me hard enough it may draw a third climax in a row.

His laugh is cruel above me, his lips landing on top of mine in a wet, possessive kiss. His tongue fills my mouth, forcing me to take him as the sounds of him fucking me like a depraved animal makes me whine in desperation.

He pulls away, a long string of spit between us connecting our lips.

"Then I'll give you what you want, princess," he says. "But there's a price."

"Uh huh," I agree. My eyes roll back as my body twitches, barely able to focus as he thrusts into me.

"Look at me," he says patiently, tugging my hair once more. When I manage to remember how, he let's out a long 'aw,' smiling down at me with false sweetness as I stare dumbly into his eyes. I suppose I'm staring into his eyes. God, I'm stupid.

His thumb grazes my jaw, tutting as he examines my face closely.

"Your eyes are pretty...*" he says, his voice sweet and tender, almost like I've made him soft and vulnerable, but his cock pounding into me causes the beginning of a headache that won't let me forget how much we hate each other. "Your eyes are pretty, your mouth is pretty..."

I lick my lips and nod lightly.

"You are just such a pretty girl, aren't you?" He asks. I nod, my body twitching uselessly as my third climax washes over me.

"Good girl," he praises. "All fucked out over me. That's good."

Suddenly and without warning, he pulls out quickly and shoves my face down close to his cock, coming all over my face. It's thick and everywhere. In my hair, my mouth. I can't even open my eyes.

"Stay like that," Mike commands as he lays me on my back. His softening cock reenters me and pumps lazily, his purpose to make sure he's fully emptied.

"Any new thoughts?" He asks me in a strange tone, light and amused. I simply moan, relishing the moment. He chuckles and spreads my legs so he can better see what is happening between us. It isn't until I hear the chime of his camera confirming a recording that I realize what he's done.

"Mike?" I ask, barely able to think straight.

A low laugh escapes him, cruel but warm.

"I want to show your new boyfriend the real you," he says. "Make sure we're all on the same page here, right?

...Fuck me, I have problems.

¤▪︎{���}▪︎¤

Thanks for reading, pookies. See y'all in hell.

Masterlist

[hyunsibae]

SAME OLD FWB

Warnings: 18+ Content, cursing, mentions of getting drink spiked, oral sex, a bit of aggression, both are genuinely down bad for each other, you’re very blind sighted, maybe deaf, with possible amnesia. Heh.. no shade. (Barely proof read)

Note: Just enjoy :)

Naive, avoidant, it’s doesn’t last long we’ve all been there. Everyone falls into temptation from time to time… :))

Forced, woken out of your dreams just to go out. Your friend bragged on and on about getting an invitation from some fancy club called ‘dark delite.’ Forcing you to come with her even though you weren’t invited yourself, she still begged on and on.

The club was located just at the corner of the city, being hidden from civilization’s eyes, only those who had some type of status could attend. So how did this knuckle head get a ticket way in? The stairs led you to a dim room where you’d be patted down before actually entering the chaotic atmosphere.

Though you wonder how long she could actually stay with you without being dragged out by some guy for.. you know what.

“I think I just saw the guy who invited me.”

“What?” You yelled over the blaring music, huge speakers shaking the whole building. Already regretting the moment you even thought about agreeing with this idea, going out on a Sunday knowing work would be waiting in the morning.

“I said-“ your friend, synne, tried to explain once more but you couldn’t care less. Getting more and more agitating as the time goes by. “Why are we here again?” You asked in that irritated voice of yours.

“Seriously? Have you not been listening to me the whole night? To find the guys and get laid.” You stared at her happy but stupid expression, wondering why you’re still friends with this stupido. Remembering that she’s the only one who’s truly been there for you, like the sister you’ve never had.

Though times like these could really make you doubt your reasoning for thinking so.

“I don’t get you, you came out to uhh… whatever the name of this club is, just to get laid? And then what?” You questioned, only to realize that she’s already gone and have left you alone. Which is a shame because you could really use some company.

Atleast with the way you’re dress, tight red dress, blue sparkles at the hems, with your back in the open. Don’t even start with the heels, oh, you could kill for a pair of slippies(your word for slippers ) You found yourself cornering up at a bar, texting synne’s phone repeatedly with no answer.

The place is gigantic, you feel like your head is spinning, not taking another drink from here. Anyone could spike it with every foul thought in mind, you would never let that happen to you, you’ve got too much to lose. “I’m never going out with her again, I swear to fuckin-“

“Language, my love.” You stayed in your chair, trying not to mind the man with a voice that could make you beg for- NO, NO, NO, NO, NO. You shook your head to ignore him, hearing a scoff before a sniff of pride. “Playing hard to get? That won’t last long.”

“Please leave me alone.” You sighed, hands in your lap as you felt him towering over you from behind. Again, rush of regret filling your mind. The bartender ignored it all, she was a lady of her own yet she simply walked off into the back. You could not believe it, where are your girls when you need em’?

“But I’m not bothering you.” He adds, it’s clear that’s he’s quite stubborn. It’s far too obvious of your clear annoyance, attitude, and maybe the fact that you’re all by yourself about to fucking crash out.

“Fine, I’ll put it this way, I’m not interested.”

“Aww, that’s just too bad.”

“Yeah, it really is.” You scoffed, honestly, the audacity of him to just continue to make his move on you and think it’s okay. Who does this guy think he is?

He chuckles, sitting in the seat next to yours. The man rung a bell which was at the front of the counter, ringing for the bartender. “Mm… could I get a bottle of Krug Clos du Mesnil '09.” He ordered.

She smiled softly, “will that be all?” She eyed you but you simply nodded as if that was all. “Yeah, no, actually could I get two with that?” You huffed at his words, what was his deal? What did he want from you? You were ready to get up, clutching your belongings until he called out for you.

“Y/n please sit down.”

Fuck, that was too familiar, that felt too close. And for a second you almost thought it was- “it’s been so long since I’ve you.” That man, is Hwang Hyunjin for sure.

You two go way back, up to high school. Growing up together was a sure pleasure because the both of you related to so many things in life. So you had each other. And then college came, when you were getting curious, he was the most experienced. So what’s the best idea? A fuck with strings attached.

You’ve quite actually ghosted him but before that you two were friends with benefits. Due to some technical(you got a boyfriend) difficulties… you had to block him on everything and never go anywhere near him. But as the time passed, the difficulty was gone and you no longer had anyone at the moment.

Why didn’t you call him? Because you’d be too embarrassed to explain to him why you actually stopped talking to him, just like right now. Instead of regret there’d be shame rushing through you. A completely flushed face.

You turned his way with a nervously crooked smile. “Oh.. I don’t know it was you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Like I said, it’s been awhile.” He eyed you sharply, the sight from the back of his mind running wild. You wore a charming dress, one that had his mind lingering to places where it shouldn’t but it could. Like when you two first hit it off. That night you clung onto him so hard that his shoulders were covered in scars, so he marked your neck with the same scar but this time more noticeable.

You caught on, you knew that look. The way his eyes pulled down to your neck, his favorite spot. Because it still shows that he’s been there and will always be there “Stop that, you fucking pervert..” He chuckled again, different from when you were unaware who he was. “Surprised you haven’t hid it, can’t you get it removed?”

“No, I quite actually like it.”

“Like? You loved it back then.”

“Shut up, actually.” You were completely embarrassed, but for some reason you can’t bring yourself to leave.

“What happened?” The question came and now you were ready to jump up and leave.

“I don’t know what you mean hyunjin,” that was a lie and now you’re going to be sorting this out with more lies. “That’s bullshit and you know it.” He huffed, the drink that never came would be really handy right but the bartender never made her way out.

“Let’s not talk about this right now, another time. Or at least not while we’re in here.” Yeah, when you’re not already shaking from your surroundings. It’s bad enough that this place has you spiraling but him here just gives you a good headache.

“Then let’s go.” He stood up, grabbing your things for you with one hand while reaching out for you with the other. “I’ll call my driver and we could go my place.” Hyunjin was dead serious about this, he’s never given up on anything, not you or anything else. The desire to be with you may or may not be driven by the fact that you have on such a luscious on, it fit your body perfectly, he had to do something.

You looked up hesitating, torn between your control and him. But what’s the worst that could happen?

-

“On your knees, now.” His voice was commanding, giving you no chance to protest as he pulled you down in front of him while he sat on the couch. The heat between you was undeniable, and he wasn’t willing to wait until you made it to the bedroom. He needed you here, right now, and deep down, it was exactly what you had been craving.

Your body shuddered, legs trembling as you’re still obeying. The floor was cold, and so was your body, drenched in sweat. From what? Two words, Hwang Hyunjin and that’s all that needed to be said. “He must’ve been so much better huh?" Looking up at him with a mix of desperation in your eyes. “No I-“

“Shut up.”

You kept your head low, glancing up at him through your lashes with that irresistible look. But he wasn’t swayed—his gaze was sharp and full of control. With a sly smirk from your face, you crawled closer in between his legs, “can’t I just make this all up to you?”

“By?”

“By sucking you off..?”

He scoffed at the thought and grabbing a handful of your hair. “You’ve got a pretty high ego to think that I’d forgive you just like that,” you pleaded with your hands, scooting up a bit closer. “Please?”

His breath turning shaky, hiding the obvious need to devour you whole. “If you please…”

You nodded, eyes locked onto his throbbing member through clothes. There’s no way he’s visibly that big even without being out, it makes you jump as you popped out his cock. Tongue darting out to wet your lips as you lean in close.

Without hesitation, You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, sucking gently as your tongue swirls around the tip. You start bobbing your head and maybe some side to side action, taking more of him into my your throat with each pass.

He looks down, grunting as your warm mouth envelops his throbbing member. Feeling the tip your uvula, making you gag around him. “Shit, shit, shit…~” It followed a moan, one you’d never heard before, could this get any better? “That’s it.. yeah…” He threads his fingers through your hair, guiding your head up and down as you reached up and under to massage his balls.

And at some point he let go, chuckling darkly, while enjoying the sensation of your tongue and teeth working on his thick flesh.

You took a deep breath through your nose, preparing yourself to swallow more of his length. As he thrusts forward a bit , you relax your throat muscles, allowing him to slide even further inside. Gagging once more but quickly recovering, happy to take everything given to you, happy to fulfill his needs and make up everything to him. Your nose presses against his pubic bone as you work your way down, savoring the musk of his arousal.

He quickly shoved his cock from your mouth with a wet pop, gasping for air. A strand of saliva connects my lower lip to his slick cockhead. “What’s wrong?”

He looked away, bitten lips almost bleeding, swollen, as if they’d been through teeth clamping against them for who knows how long or hard. Only you knew what this was, the same way you couldn’t control yourself was the same way he couldn’t. Another issue that’s inevitable.

“Oh, I see what this is. You can’t handle me.” You smirked in a tease, eyes filled with mischief.

“No, shut up.” His voice almost cracking, it’s just when you knew, just how badly things were getting for him.

“It must feel so good that you have to pull away, or you might just snap. Awww.” He hated teasing, as if being looked down on, he wanted to stay in control. But now it’s like you’re controlling him.

“Hyunjin~..”

“N-no.” A big breath from his lips, chest heaving slowing up and down.

“Hyunnnnee~” A fake moan to mimick one thing or another, we all know what it means. He looked back at with you with those try hard eyes, to make you somewhat intimidated. But you were no where near intimidated. For behind those eyes, he were just another version of you, desperate, you’re desperate for each other.

You positioned your tongue right under his tip, mouth wide while sticking out your tongue, presenting yourself for him to use as he pleases. Your eyes suddenly are half-lidded with lust, “let’s finish what we started.”

Your lips enveloping him with all might, again slowly before picking up with the pace. His hands gripped the sides of his thighs and soon to your hair just before releasing his warmth into your throat.

“Am I forgiven now” you smiled slyly, swallowing once more before looking up to him. He rolled his eyes with a sigh, hands sliding down his face. “No you’re not, and you’ve gotten yourself in even more trouble now.”

“What?! You’re no fun.” You huffed, guess your morning shift is getting skipped.

-

-

-

-

-

-

[jishyucks]

Flight of Fate — sjy

‣ pairing: jake sim x reader

‣ genre: fluff, meet-cute, implied strangers to something more

‣ wc: 4.5k

‣ summary: After months of being apart from your family, you finally get to fly back home for the holidays. On the flight there, you’re placed next to a cute stranger who has taken it upon himself to talk to you. What happens when the roads from the airport are closed overnight and you’re stuck with said stranger? You’re just hoping he doesn’t have any plans of kidnapping you.

‣ warnings: reader’s from Korea, but an ethnicity is not not explicitly stated (travels from Sydney to Korea, and family is from Korea), reader’s shorter than Jake, one quick scene where it’s really crowded

‣ an: uhh,,, idk how this reached 4.5k (I just kept writing) but this was cute ngl,,, im sorry if it seems so rushed in some parts, I rly wanted to write everything more detailed but I need to keep these short :( and im behind on this series’ sched too rip, but I still enjoyed writing this, soooo pls enjoy reading! *hand heart*

Series Masterlist

The second you settle into your airplane seat, you knock out. 

No, you didn’t care about seat belt instructions and how to tug the oxygen bag on, nor did you care about where the exits were on the plane because, frankly, you’ve flown enough times to recite it yourself. 

So the moment you sit down in your chair, even double-checking to see if you are in the correct seat, you buckle yourself up, slip your headphones on and shut your eyes. 

In your half-slumbered state, you feel the shuffling of other flyers nearby, you can hear the aggressive shutting of the overhead compartments above your seat, and you can hear the engine begin with a loud hum. 

You try to lull yourself to sleep with thoughts of finally coming home after months of studying abroad, feeling the corners of your lips lift to tighten your lips into a smile. You missed being home and seeing your parents, your siblings, your dog. You missed your bedroom and your house, and that familiar bump in the road that the car falls victim to on the way home.

And despite having to wake up at the asscrack of dawn to leave for the airport, it was all worth it when you remember that you’ll see and feel all of this soon. 

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Gentle tapping on your shoulder rouses you from sleep, and you're uncertain how far into your flight you are. 

“Hm?” You realize you’re lying on a stranger’s shoulder when you raise your head. Your neck almost breaks when you turn to look at him, “Shit.”

“Would you like any drinks?” The flight attendant questions from your right and she and the other passenger, a woman, next to you are staring back at you, “We have pop, juice, tea, water, and coffee.” Her fingers hover over the selection of drinks, waiting for your response. 

“Um,” you say, voice hoarse from just waking up, “Just water would be fine, thank you.” The woman nods and pours you water into a cup, handing it over to you before moving on to the next set of people behind you. 

It’s suddenly getting really hot underneath your sweater and you’re growing a hundred times more aware of the man to your left. You’re afraid to even look at him, embarrassed that you were using his shoulder as a pillow. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see that he’s got his hood up, a mask covering the lower half of his face. His head is angled down to his lap, probably using his phone, so he doesn’t notice the way you’re tensing up all because of him.

You clear your throat and turn to the woman next to you, “How long into the flight are we?” She gives you a side-eye, not even bothering to give you an answer before she sticks her nose back into her book. 

Before irritation kicks into your system, the man next to you speaks up. His voice comes out as soft, which you honestly didn’t expect. 

“We’re about two hours in.” 

You whip your head in his direction, eyes wide when you realize he’s looking back at you, “T-thanks.” 

“It’s no problem,” he replies. The way his eyes curve, you can tell he’s smiling behind his mask, “Looks like you were having a good sleep there, huh? Sorry I had to wake you up.” You can’t tell if he was making fun of you or not. But the tone in his voice seemed playful. 

You feel your cheeks heat up and you turn away from him, embarrassed that you were almost drooling on his shoulder, “Uh yeah, I did… sorry about… you know…” 

When your eyes flicker to his arm, he immediately understands what you’re trying to say and he lets out a laugh that wouldn’t disturb anyone else on the plane, “It’s nothing. I really didn’t mind, to be honest. I hope that doesn’t sound creepy.” 

You feel the tension in your body begin to dissipate, shoulders falling back against your seat as you continue the conversation, “Well, if you don’t mean it in a creepy way, then it’s not creepy.” You reach for your water sitting on the pull-down table in front of you and take a sip from it. 

Your actions somehow remind the man that he had just gotten a drink, too, so he mirrors your actions, extending his arm to grab the cup of coke sitting on his own table. He hums to acknowledge your reply before tugging down his mask to take a sip and, oh boy, were you not ready to see his face. 

Sure the man had pretty eyes and a voice that could perfectly suit a podcast or two, but you didn’t expect him to look… 

Okay, he was cute. Like really cute. He resembled a puppy, in a cute way and you were trying your best not to physically react to the man’s face reveal. You let out a huff of air and then take another sip of water before you scoot back into your chair. 

He gulps down the beverage, mask hanging off one ear. He looks over at you and offers a grin, which you find yourself swooning over, “So, are you going home or are you on a trip?” 

Your heart warms at his efforts to make conversation and you’re driven to angle your body closer toward his direction instead of directly in front of you, “I’m going home, how about you?”

He nods, “On a trip, but I have a lot of family in Korea, so it’s a mix?” The boy’s eyes look off to the side as he’s honestly unsure how he should describe his trip. 

“You’re going alone?” You ask. 

“My family went ahead of me because I had exams,” he continues, “They wanna get their money’s worth with the tickets so they wanted to head there earlier.” 

You nod, “That’s fair.” 

And he lets out a low hum, “Yeah, gotta squeeze every bit out of those tickets.” 

You nod again and look down at your lap. There’s a beat of a brief silence before you see a hand stick out under your nose, palm facing you, “I’m… Jake, by the way.” 

It hadn’t occurred to you that neither of you asked for names. The conversation just rolled out naturally. Since Jake offered his left hand to shake yours, you do the same, gently taking his hand, “Y/N.”

Surely, you thought that conversation would end there, maybe with a bit more small talk over the next several hours of the flight, but boy, you were wrong. 

The (one-sided) awkwardness between you and Jake seemed to dissipate entirely as time elapsed and you found yourself genuinely enjoying your conversation with Jake. The conversation jumped from topic to topic, starting off with the basics like where you studied and majors before it branched out into more specific subjects like why you chose to study biomedical sciences and why he aspired to be an engineer. Then, it was a matter of time before you dove down into what your go-to movie was when it came to flying, especially when the flying time between Australia and South Korea was long.  

“Do you like Australia or Korea more?” Jake looked over at you with a cheeky smile, knowing that the question was something that would throw you off. 

You take a moment to think because, yes, Korea was your home. It was where you were born and raised. But you’ve also grown to love Australia over the past almost 4 years of undergrad. It was different from your hometown, but you’d say that’s also a place you could call home, too. It was genuinely hard to choose, especially when Jake, someone who was born and raised in Australia, was waiting on an answer—you didn’t want to offend him or betray your own town.

“Well…” You say, “Both?” “Oh, c’mon~” Jake whines playfully, “If you had to choose one, and only one, which one would you choose?” 

“Well, I’d choose South Korea,” you retort, “The same way and reason you’d probably choose Australia.” You peek at the boy through your lashes before a small grin appears on your face, “Am I right?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jake mirrors your expression, “But I still love Korea.”

“That’s me with Australia,” you point out, “They’re both really different, so it’s hard to choose a favourite. But I like familiarity, which is why I chose Korea.” The weather and climate, geography, people… the list goes on. Both places were beautiful in their own way. 

If it wasn’t for the flight attendant returning for the 2nd meal of the flight, you would not have realized that there was far less than half of the flight left for you to go. The hours had passed by seamlessly, and you're surprised by how fast the time has flown. Jake was easy to talk to and the conversations with him had made the flight feel like a brief interlude rather than a long-haul journey. 

As you enjoy the meal, Jake glances at the small screen in front of him, checking the flight progress. "We're almost there," he remarks, a hint of regret in his voice.

The realization that your journey is coming to an end settles in. You can't help but feel a twinge of disappointment, knowing that you'll soon part ways. The prospect of returning to your routine is now accompanied by a newfound friendship, one you didn't anticipate when you boarded the plane.

"I guess we'll be landing soon," you say, trying to mask the reluctance in your voice.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are now beginning our descent into Seoul, South Korea. The local time is 5:38 in the evening. Please remain seated with your seatbelts securely fastened as we make our approach. The weather in Seoul is a chilly negative nineteen and heavy snowfall, but do not worry, we expect a smooth landing. Thank you for flying with Korean Air."

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Jake trails behind you as you both make your way out of the terminal, rolling your carry-on down the long airport corridor. Your legs feel like jelly from the sitting, almost feeling like a newborn calf learning how to walk for the first time. 

You pass by people waiting to board their planes, and others arriving alongside your flight. Although the air in the airport was refreshing in comparison to the plane, you were craving to get a whiff of actual fresh air from outside. 

When you finally reach the exit, you couldn’t help but glance back to see if Jake was still there, which he, in fact, was. His eyes melt into crescents when he notices you looking back—you’re guessing he’s smiling—and you quickly turn back to look where you’re going. 

You wonder if it was too far-fetched to ask him for his number. 

Besides, he wasn’t a total stranger. You spoke to the man for practically the entire flight, excluding the times you both wanted some shut-eye or needed to get up to pee. 

So he really wasn’t a stranger. 

You were just afraid that it would be weird to actually ask for his number or his socials. 

You don’t expect to see a huge crowd of people the minute you step out of the terminal and into the baggage claim area. It was almost as if someone had amplified the sound of bees buzzing, the muttering and babble of people filling the room. 

“What in the…” you hear Jake next to you, almost confused as you were, “What’s going on?”

You turn and look up at him, shrugging as you bring yourself up to your tippy toes to try and gather some kind of feasible understanding of the situation. Left and right, individuals were yelling (rather angrily), and others appeared to be just as confused as you were.

People were trickling in from behind, slowly pushing you and Jake closer to the people in front of you. And when Jake notices the way your eyes widen at the accumulating group of people, he situates himself behind you to act as a buffer between you and the growing crowd. 

“For those of you just joining us, we want to explain what is going on.” A man closer to the front of the crowd was standing on a counter, megaphone in hand. The room grows quiet, though not completely. “As you all know, it is currently snowing rather heavily in Seoul. The city has decided to close the roads to ensure everyone’s safety.”

Loud murmuring erupts among the people and you hear Jake join in, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“This means…” The man waits for room to grow quiet so that he doesn’t need to repeat himself again, “This means that you all, unfortunately, have to stay put within the airport as we wait for the city to reopen the roads. From our understanding, we do not know how long this will take, as it is still snowing. We apologize for the inconvenience. We are providing some resources and services for free or at a discounted price for the time being. Thank you for your understanding." 

He hops off the counter and the crowd begins to disperse. Although angry, disappointed, or confused, everyone knew that they really couldn’t do anything about the situation. 

You’re not sure how to feel. Because you were so close to getting home and now the damn snow has decided to stop you from doing so. The man did say that it wasn’t going to be long before the roads reopened, but you felt like you were a puppy being held back by a leash. 

“This is fucking stupid.” You say this to no one in particular, feeling tension in your forehead when you furrow your brows. 

“Look at the bright side,” Jake says, “You’ll get home safely. I’m sure they’re probably clearing and salting the roads right now.” 

You huff, “You’re right.” The taut muscles in your shoulders loosen at the thought and you mentally thank Jake for pointing that out. You’d very much rather get home in one piece. And you’re pretty sure your family would like that too. 

“Hey, since we’re sorta snowed in,” Jake starts, “Wanna go grab our luggage and then find someplace to sit together?” Then he realizes how weird this could sound depending on the person, “We can talk and stuff?” 

Though that was a given that you were going to be sticking around Jake until you left, especially since you did not want to spend this time alone, you appreciate the way he still asked you. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

With a huff and a shared understanding, you and Jake make your way to the baggage claim carousel. People were already awaiting their bags, standing behind the yellow line marked for safety around it. The atmosphere in the airport feels different now. The excitement you had initially felt was replaced with a mix of frustration and resigned acceptance, and you were sure that the other travellers were feeling the same way. 

As your luggage appears on the conveyor belt, you and Jake quickly grab your belongings and maneuver through the dispersing crowd in search of a place to settle. 

“Do you care where we go?” Jake asks. He’s taken it upon himself to look for a spot for you both, being able to crane his neck higher over the crowd, “Or do you prefer a corner?”

“Somewhere with enough space,” you retort, “Otherwise, I don’t mind anywhere.” 

You watch Jake as he gets up on his tippy toes, teetering from one foot to the other. He knows it shouldn’t be too hard, especially since other travellers were moved to the 2nd floor. 

“There!” Jake mindlessly grabs your hand and starts speed walking, dodging people walking aimlessly. His long legs send you flying, trying to keep up with his pace. Sure it wasn’t super fast, but with his long strides, you find yourself running to match Jake’s steps.

He guides you to a place closer to the wall of the airport, seats empty for you guys to wait it out. You’re surprised that no one has actually taken the space yet, but you figured that since it was a harder-to-reach area, people didn’t want to bother making their way to the spot and instead decided to settle on whatever free area they could find. 

When Jake realizes that he is still holding your hand, he quickly lets go, "Guess I got a bit carried away there. Sorry about that." He stuffs his hand into his hoodie pocket and his mask covers the bashful smile.

“It’s fine,” you say reassuringly. It’s not like Jake had any ill intentions when he grabbed your hand. 

To change the topic, you suggest making the small area comfy for the two of you, ensuring that it truly was a place that would be great to relax while you waited the situation out. 

You and Jake drape your coats over the chairs you’ve claimed, setting your suitcases and bags down to create a mini barrier between your space from your neighbours. The airport's ambiance echoes with a mixture of impatience and resignation. As you and Jake settle into your makeshift waiting area, the tension in the air slowly begins to dissipate. The soft hum of conversations and the occasional announcement overhead become the backdrop to your current predicament.

"Alright," Jake says, looking around your little haven, "Now we just wait, I guess."

You nod, pulling out your phone to check for any updates. The snow outside seems to be relentless, creating a serene yet inconvenient winter wonderland. You sigh, realizing that this situation might take longer than expected. You send your mom a quick update, explaining the situation before you go to reach for your laptop.

“Wanna watch a show with me?” you suggest, “Kill some time?” 

Jake doesn’t hesitate to accept your invitation, stating that he didn’t mind any show. You balance your computer up on your suitcase and press play on an older episode of Abbott Elementary. 

The show, you figured, was a feel-good show, one that you hoped would distract the both of you from the current situation. Surely enough, you and Jake find yourselves immersed in the show, occasionally laughing and commenting. 

It was funny when you think about the current situation. You were trapped at the airport with a boy you met not even twelve hours ago and you were enjoying your time. Which was odd. Because you knew that if you were going through this entire situation alone, you wouldn’t know how you’d be doing. 

That points back to the question of whether you should ask Jake for his number or his number (or just anything you can use to contact him). Would it still be weird at this point? I mean… he held your hand… even if it was instinctively. It shouldn’t be weird, right?

After a few episodes, the long day started taking a toll on you and your eyes began to grow heavy. If you weren’t in the same room as a hundred and something other people, you would have just been knocked out right then and there. But there was a good chunk of you that was afraid to go to sleep, both for your safety and your belongings sitting out in the open like this. 

“If you’re tired, you can take a nap,” Jake reads you like a book. You didn’t even realize that he noticed, “I’ll watch over you and our stuff. But only if you let me keep watching.” 

Your stomach flutters at his offer. If you were being honest, Jake was scaring you just a little bit. Because how can a guy be so cute and so kind and seem so perfect? 

You hum and give him a side-eye, “And how do I know I can trust you?”

Jake’s eyes widened, alarmed, “I haven’t done anything creepy, have I? I-I said I was sorry all those times!” 

You almost laugh out loud, “But what if that was all just to gain my trust?” You were mostly joking, but you were still suspicious simply because Jake didn’t seem real. 

Jake’s face contorted, visibly thinking the situation through, “Okay, I pinky promise you I’m a good person! A pinky promise is one of the strongest promises of all promises.” He sticks his pinky out like a child, blinking rapidly at you with his puppy dog eyes. 

“Fine,” you huff, locking your pinky with his, “Wake me up in an hour? Then I’ll let you nap.” Jake nods and watches as you slump in your seat, angling your body across the chair and using your arm as a pillow. 

When you wake up, it almost feels surreal that you’re waking up in a packed airport, the fluorescent lights still beating down on those trying to rest. You lift your head to look at Jake, feeling the blood rush oddly in your head at the sudden change of position. 

You smile when you see that Jake is still there, sitting and watching a show on your laptop like how you left him. The only difference was that he was holding a hot beverage cup in his hand and that another was sitting on top of his own suitcase. When he spots you stirring, a warm smile spreads across his face.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he says, his voice a gentle wake-up call.

You greet him back and reach for your phone, checking to see if you have any notifications. When your eyes flicker to the time, you gasp and go to hit Jake on the shoulder, “Jake, I told you to wake me up after an hour! It’s been three!”

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” he replies. He leans forward and picks the other cup up, “Here I got you hot chocolate and a cookie not long ago. I didn’t know what you liked. I asked the lady over there if she could watch you and our stuff if I got her a drink, too.” 

You thank him, taking the drink and cookie before taking a long sip from the cup, “Thanks… Now I feel bad because you haven’t been able to go to sleep.”

Jake smiles nervously, “If I’m being honest I fell asleep for a bit… Please don’t be mad at me! One second I was awake and the next I was waking up!”

You can’t help but laugh, “I’m not mad at you, don’t worry. Thanks for watching our stuff by the way.” 

“It was nothing, really,” Jake says, “I didn’t mind it at all.” 

Your eyes twinkle realizing that Jake's sincerity is both endearing and genuine. As you sip the hot chocolate, the warmth seeping through your body, you feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected company in this airport limbo.

Then you look around. The atmosphere around you has shifted. Despite everyone’s initial rush to get home for the holidays, you notice that everyone has given up on stressing themselves out, settling on their temporary homes within the airport, sharing stories, snacks, and even the occasional game. It was cute. 

“Wanna go for a short stroll?” Jake speaks up, “I’ll make a deal with auntie again.”

“Let’s go.” You nod ecstatically, needing to stretch your legs, “And I want real food too.”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have some important news. The snowstorm has finally abated, and we are pleased to inform you that the city has reopened the roads. Flights will now resume their regular schedules. Please check the updated departure boards for your new gate assignments. Thank you for your cooperation, and we apologize for any inconvenience caused."

The announcement echoes through the airport, bringing a wave of renewed energy and a realization that the long wait is finally over.

You exchange a wide-eyed glance with Jake, the reality of the situation hitting you. The roads are open, and your journey home is back on track. For some odd reason, you even feel like crying, because you’ve been stuck at the airport for almost eight hours (the longest eight hours of your life), and now you finally get to leave. Your wide eyes were quickly replaced with that of relief and excitement. 

“Fucking finally,” Jake breathes out. The two of you join the collective movement as passengers around you celebrate the news. Luggage is grabbed, bags are slung over shoulders, and the airport buzzes back to life. You can already predict that traffic is going to be nasty on the way home despite it being almost one in the morning. 

It hadn’t dawned down on you that you and Jake were going to be separating ways soon and you still weren’t sure if it was okay to ask him for any contact information. It was either grow a pair and just go for it, or never speak to him again. 

You start bundling up, sending a quick text to your mom to ask if she is on her way when you feel Jake staring at you through between his hood and scarf. 

“I had fun today,” Jake says, “Genuinely.” 

“I did too,” you reply, “I don’t know how I would’ve survived if I was alone.” 

You continue rummaging with your things, making sure you have everything that you brought with you. 

“I’d like to—” Jake clears his throat, “I’d like to hang out again.” 

Your hands pause their movements as Jake's words hang in the air. His admission catches you by surprise, and you turn to look at him, meeting his gaze through the layers of winter clothing.

"Yeah?" you ask, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. A sense of relief washes over you, thankful that you weren’t the only one who was enjoying your time with the other. 

"Yeah," Jake confirms with a nod. "I mean, if you're up for it. No pressure, of course.” The sincerity in his eyes reassures you, and you find yourself reciprocating the sentiment. 

"I'd like that. A proper hangout, not stuck in an airport this time." 

Jake grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Deal." Jake shyly sticks his phone out to you, the screen showing a new contact page. You gladly take it, happy that Jake took it upon himself to ask for your number. 

"I guess we should get going," Jake suggests, noticing the large groups of people gathering by every exit of the building. 

"Yeah, my mom's near, actually," you say, shouldering your bag. "I’ll text you when I can, and we'll plan something."

"Looking forward to it," Jake replies.

The two of you follow the wave of people leaving the airport in silence, focusing on actually getting out of the building. Surprisingly, the constant pace that the other people were taking had allowed you both to finally step foot out of the airport, and you two were able to get a much-needed whiff of fresh air. 

Before you actually part ways with Jake, you turn to him, "Happy holidays, Jake. Take care, okay?"

“You too.” He nods, “Let me know when you get home safely."

taglist: @tytrackfebreze @hoonieji @niinjo @dinonuguaegi @mrchweeee @ariadores @reignessance

[wowcatboys]

dw abt crazy detailed posts, just have fun writing!! i like reading all of them, short or long :D besides goth gfs 🔛🔝

what abt kayn when his goth gf, who‘s usually confident abt her style, suddenly starts questioning herself bc of her parents? n she spiraling, barely participating in band stuff, and even wanting to avoid kayn bc of it all

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

HEARTSTEEL KAYN/ SELF-CONSCIOUS GOTH READER ♡ Gender Neutral ♡ SFW ♡ No TW's

KAYN

At first, Kayn assumes you're just feeling a little off. Who doesn't, every now and then? He tries to help you cheer up the only way he knows how—bothering you. Kayn blows up your phone even more than normal, shows up at your house at all hours to take you out "because he's bored", and is practically glued to your skin whenever you're together. Maybe he's not the best at all that conversation stuff, but his antics will be enough to get you back to your old self...right?

When that doesn't work, Kayn's attitude takes a turn for the worse. He assumes that the reason you're withdrawing is because you're finally fed up with his shit and can't handle him anymore. It's a slap in the face, and he's more upset than he'd like to admit. After all, you were supposed to be different! He would never have let you in if he thought you'd just ditch him.

Kayn does a little spiraling of his own, which obviously makes the situation ten times worse. Surprisingly, he doesn't immediately lash out at you. He's too confused about his emotions to do much other than give you an uncharacteristic cold shoulder. But his bad attitude during rehearsals, general irritability, and the scowl that darkens his face whenever anyone drops your name clues his friends in that something definitely happened between you two.

Thank god for Ezreal, because he just gets it and takes it upon himself to talk some sense into Kayn. He approaches Kayn bringing his favorite energy drink, hoping to give his sulking friend a reality check without getting something thrown at his head. Ezreal listens as Kayn gripes that you must be sick of him or something, but it's whatever, he's totally fine—

"Kayn," Ezreal cuts him off, not bothering to hide his eyes rolling behind his candy-pink sunglasses. "Talk. to. them. You're crazy about each other and it honestly just sounds like they're going through something. You need to be there for them instead of doing this whole hot-and-cold asshole routine."

Kayn grudgingly considers Ezreal's words. Yeah, maybe you could be going through something. But why wouldn't you just talk to him, then? He's still not convinced, and he's still a bit pissy, and he's still dodging your phone calls.

But then you show up to his apartment wearing a beige t-shirt and Kayn knows something is up. The goth baddie he knows wouldn't be caught dead in neutral tones. He snags your hand in his, makes a pit stop at the fridge to grab a can of your favorite drink (he writes it on the grocery list every week to make sure Yone keeps it in stock for you), and drags you into his room.

"Okay, my lil' batty," he sighs, sitting you down on his bed. He squishes your hand reassuringly. "No more acting weird, it stresses me the fuck out. What's up with you?"

Kayn's fuming when he finds out that your parents are putting you down. In his own strange, aggressive way, he gives you a pep-talk about not giving a fuck what anyone thinks. You're awesome and hot, why should you let anyone make you doubt that? He bumps your shoulder with his arm and gives you his signature cocky smirk. "I'm supposed to be the problem, remember? Don't ever let any-fuckin'-body convince you that you're less than perfect."

From then on it's Kayn's life mission to piss the hell out of your parents. Whenever he picks you up from your house, he shows up ten minutes early so he can smoke in the driveway and blast his music so loud it makes the front door rattle in place. He "sneaks in" at night, but always leaves the toilet seat up and muddy boot-prints in the hall so your parents know he doesn't give a shit about your curfew. And, if they have the nerve to confront him about it? Oh, boy... let's just say he has no issues making his opinions known, and he tells them exactly how fucking stupid it is of them to put you down.

Knowing that you're struggling with your confidence right now, Kayn makes extra effort to lift you up. He demands a selfie every day, and blasts you with a hundred drooling emojis and thirsty comments when you flash a peace sign in the mirror and show off your outfit. If he notices makeup or clothes you might like, he doesn't even stop to look at the price tag—straight into his bag it goes. Most of all, he tries to get you to stay with him as much as possible. If your parents are going to pressure you, well then, fuck your parents. You can sleepover at his place whenever you want. If it's privacy you want? He doesn't mind splurging on a studio apartment for you, just so you can have your own space away from your parents' negativity. (Just be warned—if he does pay for your apartment, he's gonna be crashing the place all the time. Make sure you've got his favorite snacks and an extra set of sweatpants on hand, because your couch is basically his second home.)

[patroxlos]

home base . ch4

"friends who sleep on call with each other" - 2.4k words

ultraman: rising (2024). kenji sato x reader

master post. ao3 link.

previous: ch3. "friends who believe in mpreg"

next: ch5. "friends who fuck things up"

With his dad back to help him with the Baby, Ken needs to call you to check if you are okay.

You nearly fall back into old habits. ---

Ring…

Ring…

One thing Ken loves likes appreciates about you is that no matter the timezone or how busy you are, you always pick up the phone for him.

Ring…

Ring…

Sorry, your call is not—

Okay, so he exaggerates sometimes.

Ken flops on his bed post-shower, hair still damp as he throws his phone to the side. Mina flits around nearby to ensure that he finally sleeps tonight while his dad watches over the baby in the basement. And he is trying his best to. His joints are begging him to succumb to his fatigue, and he can barely keep his eyes open. Yet, he still lay awake. He knows what he needs.

Mina worries like a mother hen, hovering over the bed. “If you would like, I can run one of the simulations instead if she won’t answer,” she offers.

“No Mina, it still makes me feel a little creepy,” he grumbles.

Her mechanical whirring grows a bit louder. “It would just be for a few minutes. No one has to know.”

Okay, tempting. “...Can you run a quick one?”

Before Mina could start up the projector, his phone lights up with a familiar ring tone. He never dove so fast to answer a call.

His phone nearly slips out of his grasp as he fumbles to press the green button—

You are greeted by a freshly showered Ken Sato through the video call. You sit up straighter on your bed as you blink, bleary.

“Hey,” his relief leaks through your phone speaker. Though it is a bit dim in his room, his camera still caught the crinkle of his eyes as he saw you. “You’re okay. I saw in the news you got picked up by a—”

“You ever heard of a shirt?” You cut him off.

“You know I don’t sleeping with one.” He chuckles when he sees you roll your eyes.

“Whore. No wonder you’re knocked up.”

“Think about who you are slutshaming.” You see him ease into his bed, hearing his soft yawn as he lies down on his left side. “Stress isn’t good for our baby.”

“You know, you don’t have to baby trap me into staying, as the gossip mag claimed. Our fight at the Yakisoba place last night wasn’t the end of the world.” That fight felt worlds away now given all that happened to you in the past few hours.

Ken laughs nervously. “Honestly, I was scared that the article ruined our friendship even further.”

You  lie down on your right side and put your face close to the camera, eyebrows scrunching. “Worse things have been written about us.”

“Never a pregnancy though.”

“That one article about me, claiming I was double-timing you and Yuzu, was a lot worse.”

“I still don’t get what you saw in him,” he grunts. “And will you stop calling him Yuzu? He publicly broke up with you.”

You aren’t stupid. You know exactly why Ken hated your most recent former boyfriend, Yuzuru Hanyu. Hell, Ken used to respect the guy so much as a fellow athlete until you started dating him. He does not have to say it out loud for you to know the reason. He knows you know. Neither of you have ever addressed it.

“It’s been a year, it was mutual, and he’s still my friend,” you point out as you adjust your covers over your left shoulder, a flash of deep red seen briefly.

“Yeah well you tell him— woah wait, hold the phone up to your arm.” The sudden urgency of his request nearly jolts you awake.

You bury yourself into the covers a bit more. “It’s fine. Doesn’t really hurt.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

“I thought this was a sleep call, since the last time you asked for one was three weeks ago. You look like you haven’t had a good night’s—”

“Can you stop changing the subject and show me your arm?” He snaps, his fatigue making him irritable. A drop of water from his damp hair hits his camera, which he promptly wipes away. “I called you because I heard you were grabbed by a kaiju.”

“So you don’t want me to help you sleep? You always tell me you pass out like a baby when I help.” You try to lift the mood but he wasn’t having it.

“Arm. Now,” He scolds, like you are a dog.

You scoff at his tone, but you brought your left arm from out under the covers. You use your mouth to tug up your sleeve as you held your phone with the other hand to show him the fresh, angry bruisings imprinted on your skin.

“Oh god—”

“It’s just from when that tiny kaiju picked me up. It squeezed me a little bit but I’m just glad its claws didn’t scratch me.” You push your sleeve back down.

“I’m so sorry.” For some reason, his apology sounds so personal.

“It’ll be fine,” you try to soothe him through the call. If you two were together in person, you would have reached forward to squeeze his arm. “It is going to fade away in a week. I got it checked too before I went home, nothing was broken. I’m still here.”

He mumbles something to himself, and you strain your ears to hear a guilt-filled this is all my fault. You don’t really understand what he means by it, but perhaps it is just grief making him say strange things. It is hard when those you cared for get taken too soon by a monster. A multitude of families all across Tokyo struggle to cope with the losses they have sustained, and the entire city lives in fear that it will happen to them.

“Kenji? Are you alright?” You ask slowly. His face is blank, save for the misery that shone in the crease of his forehead.

He closes his eyes, trying to relax his face. “...Can you just keep talking…”

“You wanna sleep?” You start thinking about what to talk about this time. Often, he likes hearing about your day the most. However, not much has happened to you today save for the incident.

He nods.

“Okay.” You talk about the company and the work you have been doing— how often times it feels like a 24/7 shift. You know he only wants to lie down and listen, so you warm up to give a lengthy discussion about numbers and recent data points in market research that you found interesting— maybe it will bore him to sleep. His even, measured breathing tells you that he is close to. While there is so much for you to talk about your work, you begin to start running out of things you actually want to discuss. You are also getting sleepy, and you even have to rest your hand holding your phone on the pillow since your fingers are getting too tired to secure it in your grip. You are about to draw a blank, but your mind wanders to when you were stumbling on the roof of a building earlier that evening.

Oh, you think. Maybe he will find it a little funny. Haven’t messed with him in a while.

“Also, is it just me or has Ultraman gotten hot?”

You startle when his eyes suddenly shoot open. “I’m sorry— who?!”

“The 40-meter superhero?”

“Him?!” His voice is alert but hoarse, his throat pushing out words amidst his drowsiness.

You laugh freely at his reaction, bringing up your thumb to your mouth to bite a little on your nail as you explain yourself. “I dunno, he… I never really thought about him like that, being a giant and all but maybe it is because I never came close or spoken to him before…he saved me earlier from that kaiju and I kinda found it hot? Just being so tiny in his palms—”

“Please stop talking.” You have never seen such a conflicted face on him before.

“Why? You jealous he has a killer waist?”

“I can tell you that that is the furthest thing I am feeling right now.”

“You know he knew my name too,” you continue, failing to notice the way he freezes. “Do you know the theory that Ultraman is like a human guy when there aren’t any monsters? I bet he knows me from the internet or something,” you giggle.

“Yeah, of course he knows who you are…Who wouldn’t?” You mistake his nervousness as sarcasm.

Can’t he just let you have a little celebrity crush? “Kenji, it’s not like I’m going to fuck him. He’s all smooth down there and I don’t even know if his mouth works like that.”

“Can we talk about anything else? Please, I can’t fall asleep to this…” He grumbles with half of his face buried in his pillow, strands of hair sticking to his forehead.

“Maybe you can’t sleep because your pillow is all wet from your hair. Should I come over and teach you how to dry it properly?” You joke.

“Yeah?” He rasps, eyes heavy. “You wanna come over?”

He is nearly about to pass out, fatigue causing his mental filters to lower. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

That does not stop your throat from going a bit dry.

You were quiet for a bit too long. “Kidding,” he mumbles.

You let out the breath you were holding, looking away from the screen.

“Too much stuff is going on,” he continues. “My dad is here and I’m struggling to adjust to the fact that he might stay with me for a while.”

“You’re speaking to Professor Sato again?” While you are hopeful that this will be a step toward the right direction for the father and son, you worry about what exactly is happening in Kenji’s life that he cannot tell you. You cannot imagine what would bring him to ignore his closest friend in favor of confiding to his estranged father. Perhaps it was a personal family matter.

He sighs, signalling that he is not in the mood to talk about it–he never is–and you let it go.

“I know you said that you can’t put in the effort right now to maintain our friendship, but,” you pause, unsure if what you will say will help. “I miss you.”

His shoulders shake as he laughs. It fills your bedroom. “Fuck you have no idea.”

“It’s just been some time since you have called me for sleep help.”

He does not respond immediately, but you clearly see how deep his eyebags are— or actually, have been, the past few months. “You told me…to call you when I need someone. I really…really need you… I wish you were here…”

The call falls silent. It strikes you suddenly how your bed feels emptier than normal.

You wonder if it is worth the risk to fill it with one more body.

.

..

…

“Come over.”

His breath hitches.

You decide to say it a bit clearer, surer. “Come over. It…It doesn’t have to mean anything. We can just cuddle. I think…I think you need it.”

“I…” He clears his throat. “I thought you said—”

“It’s just one night.” You have no idea who you are trying to convince, but a dull ache begins to rise in your abdomen.

He slightly narrows his eyes, a little distrusting. “I don’t want to do this if you’re only doing it to make me feel better.”

“Kenji, I miss you.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“I can send a car to pick you up if you’re too tired to bike here. I’ll let you go by the morning,” you try to entice him further. “Kenji…do you need me to tell you how much I need you? Because I do.”

He swallows loud.

“I need you.”

“Fuck— okay, I’ll be there.” he places down the phone so you are met with the view of his ceiling. You hear frantic movements in the background, a jingle of a belt buckle as he hurries to put on his pants.

“I’ll send the car—”

“Not fast enough. I’m awake enough to bike.” 

You couldn’t stop the grin from forming on your face. “This is such a bad idea.”

“Hey, no take-backs,” he barks to the phone from a distance. “We’ll deal with it in the morning.”

Once he finally picks it up again, you see he is dressed in a white shirt and leather jacket. The chain around his neck catches in the light. You slightly nibble on your bottom lip.

“I’m just coming over to inspect your bruises,” he gruffly justifies.

“Mmhm.”

“And I want to make it up to you for how MIA I’ve been the past few months.”

“Just how will you do that?” You let your voice drop slightly, and he groans at the tone.

“Nothing like what you’re thinking, perv. You said a cuddle is fine, and I’m too banged up for anything else.”

You giggle. “I did. I won’t stop you though if you wander a bit.”

“And I will stop you if you so much as touch—”

A crash was heard at the end of his line. You bolt up as you see him stumble and fall as if an earthquake rocked his house. The phone flies from his hand and the camera meets with the floor. More crashing was heard, and you hear a robotic voice which you recognize as his AI, Mina, enter the vicinity.

“Professor Sato needs help with—”

“I got it, I got it!” You hear Ken snap. He picks up the phone again, and his face is contorted with exasperation. From behind him, Mina floats in view.

“Hey, Mina…” You weakly greet her.

She greets you back. “Apologies, that Ken cannot go to you—”

“Now who decided that?!” He interjects, frustration exploding. “Can’t he handle it alone? Like I have for the past—”

Another loud bang is heard through the call. You wonder whether this was what he has been dealing with all this time. It definitely sounds…occupying. You struggle to temper your disappointment. “It’s okay, Ken. I understand.”

He grinds his teeth, but nods. “I am so sorry.”

“We know that it is a bad idea anyway,” you murmur back. “You coming here. Maybe this is a sign we shouldn’t…go back to old habits.”

His face is unreadable. “Good night. Call you soon.”

“I’ll tell my assistant to wait for your email…about my schedule,” you recall your previous conversation.

“I miss you,” he simply says.

“I miss you too.”

[hardly-an-escape]

Fluffbruary Days 14-17

gonna try to do a little daily drabble just to get the creative juices going while I work on longer WIPs. no guarantees that it'll be every day.

Dream/Hob • rated M • phone | bubble bath | doll & cord | bakery | honey & neighbour | desire | horse & magazine | tactile | curtains

Hob sighs and leans back in the hotel bathroom tub. At least it’s deep. He’s got a glass of whiskey, which tomorrow Hob will probably regret – not due to the alcohol, just the fact that it’s from the room minibar and costs three times what it’s actually worth – and he’s dumped what might be legally considered a ‘metric shitload’ of bubbles into the hot water, and he can finally, finally relax.

He likes these conferences; he honestly does. It’s refreshing, to connect with people in his field and both commiserate and be reminded why they do what they do.

They’re just also exhausting – even for an extrovert like Hob.

His limbs are feeling pleasantly warm and heavy and he’s halfway through his whiskey when the phone rings.

For some ungodly reason the hotel has put a phone in the bloody bathroom, so at least he doesn’t have to get up, just haul himself far enough out of the water to reach the counter.

“Hello?” he says irritably.

“Hob?” says the voice on the other end of the line. “I have a question about one of your citations in the paper you presented this morning. I was…”

“Morpheus?”

“Obviously. I was wondering about –”

“Morpheus, it’s –” Hob tries to break in.

“– about the research on Jonson that you cite in –”

“Morpheus, it’s after nine o’clock in the evening.”

There’s a long pause.

“Is it?” the other man says uncertainly.

“Yes, you absolute walnut.”

“I… was working. I must have lost track of time.”

“Why on earth are you still working? Don’t you have a flight in the morning?”

“I suppose I have. Nothing better to do.”

Hob doesn’t know Morpheus all that well; they see one another a few times a year, at seminars and conferences. They argue cheerfully about the merits of various Elizabethan playwrights, they – yes, fine, they flirt over cocktails at receptions, occasionally – but they don’t really talk. And yet he can see Morpheus, curled up in an uncomfortable desk chair at the cramped little hotel room desk, papers spread in front of him. The man has a memorable presence and a genius mind. And thin, elegant, fidgety fingers, which Hob imagines wrapped up in the phone cord.

And a dark, velvety voice, which is currently pouring into Hob’s ear.

“I apologize for disturbing your evening, Hob.”

“That’s alright. But you ought to find some way to relax tonight, for goodness’ sake.”

“Oh, ought I?” Morpheus sounds – amused? “And how would you suggest I do that?”

“Well, I for one am drinking a whiskey and having a very nice bubble bath.” Hob splashes deliberately. “And I can only recommend that course of action.”

“From an academic standpoint, Dr. Gadling?” Morpheus asks dryly.

Hob sinks a little deeper into the hot water. “Naturally, Dr. Murphy. From what other standpoint might I recommend it?”

Desire swells and pools in his belly. He can’t help it, with Morpheus’s voice in his ear bringing the man’s image so vividly to his mind’s eye. The sharp grey-blue eyes and even sharper cheekbones, which contrast soft lips.

“I’m sure I couldn’t even begin to guess.” Lord, but that voice is smoother than the whiskey Hob has just polished off.

“Perhaps sometime I’ll have the opportunity to enlighten you,” he says boldly.

“Perhaps.” Hob thinks he can hear a smile. “Good night, Hob.”

“Night, Morpheus.”

A click, and the line goes dead. Hob leans up to hang up his own handset and recedes back into the bubbles.

Morpheus would be a tactile lover, he’s sure of it. His hands prove it; that nervous, artistic elegance. Hob’s own hands drift lower, slip between his legs.

Perhaps sometime he’ll have an opportunity, indeed.

prompt list!

[miellifluous]

Love your yandere Bachira Scenarios but am I the only one who ever thought Reo was kinda yandere too? Can you write something for him as well but like with a reader who's less enthusiastic about it?

+ fem! reader, yandere behavior, betrothal, possessiveness, expect whatever comes with the concept of yandere

- Anon i’m so sorry i took this long to write your request have mercy 🙏

• I mean it’s a given Reo is a closeted yandere at this point 😭

• Honestly he’d love a challenge, he doesn’t want to just have you, he wants to earn you, being handed everything on a silver platter has made him jaded about receiving gifts, it’s no fun anymore

• You’ve easily moved into his list of treasures, and Reo can most definitely sense that his passion about you bleeds into something darker and more sinister but he really can’t help it

• He wouldn’t, in the beginning, try to get your attention by flaunting his wealth, he’d wanna try and approach you gently, coaxing you into seeing him in a better light

• He’d be friendly to you, never failing to greet you, inviting you to his games or practice and helping you with homework if you need it

• But then he begins getting more intimate, tucking strands of hair behind your ear, caressing your cheeks when you’re talking to him and sometimes leaning down to whisper something in your ear which would have been fine except it feels more like he’s giving you ear a peck

• And you’re quick to show signs of not being very fond of his actions, signs that don’t go unnoticed by him but which he is quick to ignore with a smile

• He clings onto you and follows you around despite your little excuses of needing to go somewhere alone. He dismisses them of course. Why would you need to be alone? Why would you need to go anywhere without him and Nagi?

• You know, Nagi would probably end up telling Reo straight to his face that he’s annoying you randomly one day, and that’s what causes the realization to truly sink in, that you’re not interested

• And Reo is both desperate and furious, he’s done nothing but follow you around like a faithful dog and this is the outcome? From that point on, he’d begin maximizing his dates with other girls, flirting with them in front of you just in the hopes that you’re gonna end up jealous or something which.. doesn’t work

• so he pretty much resorts to using his money. One day your guardian is suddenly jobless and when did you incur this much debt? The only person who can get you out? Reo. What does he want in exchange? Your hand in marriage. Sure you’re both in highschool, but you can be betrothed to him in the meantime

• When the deal is made, Reo and Nagi suddenly become the people you’re around with the most. Reo constantly surveys you in class, frowning when a classmate starts up a conversation with you and god forbid you get mushy with them

• He has certain expectations from your relationship, he’s a delusional man who wants your relationship to be perfect, so expect loads of affection from him and be ready to return that

• Reo would still be mindful of what you want.. sort of, he wouldn’t force you into anything intimate but he will get irritated and moody if you give him the cold shoulder or the silent treatment and someone.. might even get hurt

• He’s very controlling though, has your location on his phone, goes through your texts and if you’re been a good girl and haven’t interacted much with others, he’ll lift your chin up and pepper your face with kisses and of course shower you with gifts!

• He still has his desires though and he definitely has you dress up for him, specially when he’s in the mood; he’s getting you the prettiest sets of lingerie and the most frilly dresses and skirts that show off so much and just have you sit on his lap, stroking your hair or kissing you, strokes his ego up so much

• Would love to turn you into his wife, obedient and docile for him, one who would welcome him when he gets back from his matches, who’d look so lovely carrying his kids, who would cook for him..

• But Reo is still Reo and is therefore infatuated with you, which means he won’t ever refuse anything you ask (except to bail out of your relationship) and he’s at your beck and call

• He practically worships the ground you walk on and his room is filled with stuff you owned: clothes, bras, panties

• Not one moment when he isn’t thinking of you, you can maybe use that as a way to improve your condition because let’s face it, you’re not getting out of this one, Reo Mikage wants you and he will have you

[harlowsbby]

Come See Me

“I don’t know if you love me anymore, I don’t know if you love me like before.” - Rod Wave.

You sighed as you looked down at your phone seeing the text you sent to Jack over an hour ago was still very much left on delivered.

Jack 💘

- Just call me when you’re close and I’ll come out.

The two of you were meant to go out and have dinner together and just end the night together because as of lately all he’s been doing is going out and obviously working which you didn’t have a issue with but at the same time you did.

You missed him dearly but whenever you told him that you wanted to spend more time with him it always somehow ended up in an argument.

He always saw it as you being a bit selfish although he’d never tell you that.

You sighed as you leaned back into the couch and thought back to previous arguments with Jack.

You hated the way you had the beg the man that you loved to spend time with you. It made you overthink your entire relationship and whether or not he even loved you the same anymore.

Flashback.

“Are we seriously going over this again? I thought we talked about this a few nights ago Y/N.” Jack clenched his jaw trying his best not to let his anger get the best of him.

The tension in the air was very thick. Both of you feeding off of each other’s energy and anger.

“Well I’m not fully over it and I’d rather talk things out with you then get all upset and go to bed mad at each-other.”

You argued back and crossed your arms over your chest. “So let’s talk, go ahead you start because I don’t even know what you’re upset about now.”

Jack stated and sat down on the couch and looked up at you.

By the irritated expression on his face you could tell this was the last thing he wanted to deal with tonight, but he knew you weren’t going to sleep till you spoke your mind.

“Can you at least act like you care? Or is caring above you as well.” You tried mumbling under your breath but Jack heard you loud and clear.

“What are you on about? Of course I care.” He tried defending himself.

“Oh do you?” You were only shocked. “Because as of lately it seems like you don’t care about me or our relationship at all.”

Jack’s eyebrows scrunched up in confusion as his lips formed into a frown. “What do you mean?” You rolled your eyes and huffed.

“You’re kidding me right? You’re always out in the studio, out with friends late at night and whenever you do make it home I’m always asleep or stuck at work myself!!”

You yelled at him and watched as his face softened but soon harden.

“You’re serious? I can’t go out and have alone time by myself anymore. I’m meant to be inside with you 24/7? Y/N.” You rolled your eyes.

“That’s not what I’m saying Jack I just want you here with me sometimes. I wanna wake up in the mornings with my boyfriend next to me and spend time with you. I never see you anymore!!” You spat at him and watched as he stood up.

The two of you were now somewhat at eye level. His face was red in anger.

“I’m a rapper Y/N, I have fans to please and a label that needs me. I’m actually somebody.” That one stung and it honestly took you off guard.

You shook your head at him and chuckled darkly. “You don’t get it but maybe I’m the one that doesn’t get it considering you’re a celebrity right? You’re actually someone right?” He sighed.

“I didn’t mean it like that baby.” He tried reaching out for you only for you to take a step back.

“I think it’s best you sleep downstairs tonight.” He smacked his lips. “Come on baby I didn’t mean it like that.” You shook your head at him.

“It’s fine really Jack.” You lied and went to bed that night with a heavy heart.

Flashback over

Ever since that day Jack has been trying his best to make things right between the two of you. The keyword in the sentence is the word ‘trying’.

You looked down at your phone seeing you had gotten a notification that Urban posted onto his story via Instagram.

You opened up the app and clicked on his story you smiled seeing he was with a bunch of his friends which you assumed were at the newest karaoke bar that opened up down the street.

You were about to exit out the app and call up Jack when you noticed a familiar head of curls in the video. You brought the phone closer to your face and squinted your eyes a bit.

“This isn’t gonna do much justice.” You sighed and exited out Urban’s story, maybe you were paranoid there was no way Jack was going to stood you up. He wanted to make this relationship work right? He wanted the two of you to live happily ever after right?

Your phone lit up again and you saw Urban posted yet another story to his page. You were gonna let it go and not even worry about it but something was telling you to look.

“Fuck it.” You said and quickly went to Instagram and clicked on the story but immediately regretted it.

In the video there was Jack clear as day in the background talking to some blonde haired chick. Obviously it wasn’t Urban’s intentions to film Jack he just so happened to be in the background.

Urban was meant to be recording Ace who was trying his hardest to hit the high notes in a Whitney Huston song but was failing miserably.

In the background near the tv stood Jack and the mystery women.

You could see him handing her back a phone which you assumed was her phone. Which made you automatically assume he must’ve given her his number.

You wanted to message him and to go down there and go off but honestly you had no more energy in you to keep this relationship going.

“I guess this was what celebrities do huh?” You whispered to yourself and shook your head. All you could do was grab your car keys and purse and leave. You weren’t about to stick around and be played with.

(Just a little angst inspired by Rod Wave’s song Come See Me, it isn’t the best but enjoy it 😭💘)

[madlittlecriminal]

[04] Secret Ingredient⥓ Mafia!Miguel O'Hara × Female!Baker!Reader

Warnings: Danny is an oc, mention of death in the family (not reader or miguel related), mention of pregnancy (not reader), annoying customers, two cliffhangers in one (im sorry), patrick o'hara (web-slinger)

series masterlist | miguel o'hara masterlist

Another day, another employee seeming to irritate him to the core. Miguel didn't understand what was so hard for this guy to understand that no meant no, but seeing him beg Miguel for a day off when his PTO ran out was comical to say the least.

"For the last time, Danny, you used up your PTO. I cannot give you the day off simply because you don't want to work. If you were at work more often instead of doing whatever you want to do, then maybe you'd have the day off." He says while leaning back in his chair.

"But you don't understand! I need the day off, Mr. O'Hara! Please!"

"Give me a valid reason why and I'll think about it." It was bullshit. The only way Danny was going to get out of this is if his fiancée was giving birth or if he had a death in the family. For any other reason, Danny was going back to work and Miguel didn't care if Danny was going to throw a fit.

He was honestly surprised that Danny and his fiancée were still together considering he hardly works and they live together.

"Well...you see..." Danny started, but he couldn't come up with a valid excuse other than not wanting to work.

Miguel waited for him, his leg folded to where his ankle rested on his knee and his hands folded on top of his abdomen. He tilted to the side as he listened to Danny stutter.

"Danny, I'm a patient man. However, your stutter isn't natural. You're nervous because you can't come up with a lie right now and that's fine. However, don't expect me to listen to you if you can't come up with a lie. Get back to work."

Danny grumbled before leaving Miguel's office, slamming the door behind him.

"Slamming doors como si paga por algo-" he paused and shuddered. "Oh God, I sound like my mother." (like of you pay for something-) Miguel shook his head and fixed his blazer before going to type on his computer before his phone rang. A small smile formed on his lips when he saw your name pop up on the screen, but he didn't answer it until the third ring.

"I thought you gave me a fake number there for a second." You let out a sigh, making Miguel let out a shy chuckle, fidgeting with his pen as he tried to tell himself to relax from how hard his heart was thumping in his chest with nerves.

"Nope. Right number." He says, leaning back into his chair again as he heard you put the phone down.

"Good! Okay, I had a weird question to ask you." You say, everything around you sounding much louder which he automatically connected it to you putting the phone on speaker.

"Ask away." He reaches over and grabs his glass of water with a trembling hand from his nerves.

"Why did you need to know about interior designers and such?"

Miguel smirks, thanking whoever that it was a phone call and not in person communication or a video call. "That's for me to know and for you to find out."

"Of course it is."

He heard you huff out a breath and he couldn't help but bite his bottom lip to hold back a laugh.

There had to be flaws somewhere in you...right? I mean, he only saw perfection-

'No. Stop it, Miguel. Not yet. Don't fall just yet.'

"Well, I'll let you go. I have a cake to work on."

Before he could get a word in, you hung up.

Miguel put his phone down and let out a chuckle. He rests his elbow on the arm rest of his desk chair, his chin resting on his palm as he let his mind wander a bit.

Where did his mind wander to exactly?

To you.

He wondered if your hands were rough or surprisingly soft. He wondered where you learned to bake. Was it taught to you by a parent or guardian? Did you learn from recipe books? YouTube videos? I mean, he had to thank someone for your talent. Shit, he wouldn't be surprised if you were self taught.

He shook his head before a soft knock was heard from his office door. He looked up and immediately regretted it when he saw the look of shock and anxiousness on Lyla's face.

"They're here for the meeting, Mr. O'Hara."

He got up and buttoned his blazer before following Lyla out of his office and into the conference room. He knew Lyla well enough that when she said his last name, it wasn't Alchemax business.

-----

You raise a brow at the man in front of you who was asking for a gender reveal cake.

"Sorry, can you repeat that?"

"I want a gender reveal cake, but instead of the usual pink and blue and you do black?"

You blink at him.

"Black and...?"

"Just black."

"Do you want the frosting black?"

"No. I want the cake to be black."

"Sir, that's not how a gender reveal cake works. If you want, I can do black and whi-"

"No, I want black."

"What's the gender?"

"Boy."

"Okay. So you want everything to be black?"

He nods.

"What flavor?"

"Vanilla."

You stood there for a bit, screaming internally as you head to the back to take out a vanilla cake you just made. You quickly made black frosting with food coloring before decorating the cake. When you triple checked that it was perfect, you showed it to the customer.

"You made sure it was blue on the inside, right?"

You wanted to throw it at the customer.

"Sir, you told me you didn't want to do pink or blue, you wanted black."

"Yeah. The frosting."

You clenched your teeth before forcing a smile.

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, I need it within the next two hours or so."

"Come again?"

He gave you a nod before stepping out of the bakery.

"Customers piss me off sometimes." You murmur.

"Do they? I'm sorry to hear that."

Your eyes widen before they meet a familiar pair of brown eyes.

"Hey darlin'. Hope I'm not interrupting anythin' important." Patrick says softly, giving his charming country boy smile that made you relax.

~~~~

tags:

@deputy-videogamer @barbiecrocs @deepinballs @faimmm @wakeupr41 @bubblegumfanfictions @smartyren @kimmis-stuff @latenightcravingz @youcantseem3 @corpsebridenightamare @thedevax @cicithemess @diannana @itsameclinicaldepresssion @hwasoup @migueloharasbbm @vkumi