#7:25pm

[hyuuukais]

i was joking when i said i'd be going to bed this early but these cramps are killing me so uhhhhhhhhhh goodnight

[shannonsketches]

Sketches on my dash time to suggest what if you drew your own saiyansona

Can I offer you this self portrait from work today instead

[agenderhyde]

i'm trying to do better at getting down some of the various stories that float around in my head, but i'm more productive at physically writing them than i am at typing, and i've done a lot of writing when i'm bored out of my mind at work

[newforever]

https://ift.tt/p7xmhe2 Space Drum (Turbulence Remix) {Instrumental} 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒅. 𝑩𝒚 Operation O™ Operation O™ (Scribes of Avalon)

[spokenforinvaliduser]

[rynwrites4fun]

Eyes On Me (2) | Jack Abbot x Popstar ! Reader

Jack Abbot x f! Popstar ! Reader

(7/12/25: In the works of rewriting this fic entirely! New version will be posted soon)

Summary: It’s been almost a year since that night in Pittsburgh. You and Jack still hold tightly to the memory of it. After stepping away from the spotlight, you return with an EP titled Tethered, a raw and honest reflection of your mental health journey. Now, back in Pittsburgh, everything comes full circle when you find yourself in the ER, again. 

Word Count: 5792

Warnings: Age Gap (mid 20’s/late 40’s or early 50’s,) Mentions of mental health struggles 

Author's Note: Part 2!!! Thank you for all the love!!! I’m not sure how many parts this fic will have, but we’ll see. Lol I’m dead. I spent this week staying up late at night, busting this out because I’m impulsive. again sorry for any grammatical errors and/or inaccuracies. I’ll go through and fix it later. Tag list??? Let me know. Comment or message me if you wanna be on it. - ryn

East Coast / Pittsburg ER Night Shift  9:25pm

“Everyone’s favorite pop princess is back!”

It’s been almost a year since the pop star stepped away from the spotlight after collapsing backstage after performing her sold-out concert in Pittsburgh—the 22 out of 36 across North America. She was rushed to Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Hospital, where she was treated for extreme fatigue and exhaustion.

Shortly after, her team unexpectedly announced that the remainder of the tour was canceled, with plans to reschedule for future dates.

Just a few days later, the singer posted a heartfelt video on Instagram, opening up about her mental health struggles and her decision to take a step back in order to prioritize her well-being.”

Doctor Jack Abbot stood in the doorway of Exam Room 15, arms crossed. Inside, Doctor John Shen sat hunched over a patient’s foot, suturing needle suspended mid-air like he’d forgotten what he was doing. His eyes were fixed on the television mounted in the corner, where a glittering news segment about you played at full volume.

“An outpouring of support followed—and now, she’s back and ready to start again. 

Just a little over a week ago, she teased her upcoming EP Tethered—her first post since announcing her break from the spotlight. Now, the highly anticipated project is set to drop in just a couple of weeks, marking not just a return to music, but a raw, intimate glimpse into the journey she’s been on since stepping away.” 

Jack clicked the remote. The television turns black.

“Hey—I was watching that!” John protested, finally snapping out of it with a frown.

“Yeah, we were watching that,” the teenage patient echoed, craning her neck to stare at Jack.

“Are you planning to finish that suture today, or are we diagnosing patients with pop culture updates now?” Jack raised his eyebrows and he was slightly annoyed. 

John rolled his eyes as he returned to the suture.

“Thought you’d want to know what she’s been up to lately—y’know, after everything.” He sideeyes Jack.

His tone was light, but the implication hung in the air—referencing what had happened months ago between Jack and you. 

Jack had thought of you more than he cared to admit since that night. You kept slipping into his thoughts—uninvited, unexpected. He wondered if you were okay. If the weight you carried had gotten any lighter. If you’d found some kind of peace.

And now, it felt like the world wouldn’t let him forget. You weren’t just famous—you were inescapable. You’re everywhere. 

He started noticing you in places he never had before.

Your music plays on the radio.

Your face flashing across the TVs.

Your eyes staring back at him from magazine covers and newspapers at the checkout line.

You are woven into the background of his daily life—like a habit he hadn’t realized he’d formed.

The patient raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

“Wait— something happened between you and her?” she asked, glancing between the two doctors. 

Her tone was casual, but her eyes lit up with the kind of interest reserved for celebrity drama.

Jack shot John a look—sharp and silent, the kind that spoke volumes. It was enough to make John glance away, the tension hanging in the air.

The moment passed quickly, and Jack returned to the patient’s chart, pretending to focus on the words in front of him. But his mind wasn’t really on the chart anymore. His grip on the chart tightened, just slightly.

“Nothing worth talking about,” he said, too quickly to sound convincing. John gave him a sideways glance but didn’t say anything as he continued to stitch. 

The patient wasn’t buying it. “C’mon,” she pressed, grinning. “You totally knew her, didn’t you?”

Jack finally looked up, his expression unreadable.

“I treated her. One night. That’s all.”

He never mentioned what transpired between the two of you on the roof—not to anyone. Not even to Doctor Michael Robinavitch, his good friend, the one he told everything to. 

He never told anyone how he’d told you he saw her—really saw you. How you opened up because of that, because he looked past everything the world expected you to be. And the flirting that had slipped into their conversations, soft and unexpected, blurring the lines between doctor and patient—those moments felt more intimate than they should have.

That was between him and you—his to keep. That night meant something. It stayed with him.He didn’t like talking about you. Not because it didn’t matter, but because it did. He keeps things close. What’s real, he guards. Some things aren’t meant to be shared.

Jack shoved the thought of you to the back of his mind, compartmentalizing. He had to focus on the dozen patients they were juggling, a constant reality of being short-staffed. They had to move quickly and work efficiently, no matter the strain.

“Doctor Shen, let’s stitch and go—we’ve got a waiting room that’s about to riot.” 

And with that, he was gone. 

—

West Coast / Los Angeles Therapy Session 6:25pm

“How have you been feeling lately?" your therapist asks during the video call.

You were in a better mindset since Pittsburgh. That night changed everything for you. You got the help you needed. You were still working through things—unpacking, unlearning, rebuilding. It was a process, but you had found moments of peace along the way.

“Okay… just nervous, I guess.” You toyed with the strings of my hoodie—Jack’s hoodie. You’d kept it since that night. You wore it whenever I needed grounding, like some sacred ritual. It hung loose on you, weighted in all the right ways.

His scent still lingered—clean soap, and something warmer, something him. It slowed your pulse, quieted the noise in your  head.

It brought you back to the roof. To the way he looked at you, how our deep conversations slowly melted into flirty, playful banter. But mainly a quiet reminder that, just for a moment, you weren’t alone. You were seen.

“And what’s making you feel nervous?”

“I’m releasing an EP in a couple weeks called “Tethered”. It’s rooted in that night in Pittsburgh—what happened, what shifted—and everything that’s unfolded since. At its core, it’s about my ongoing healing journey. Honestly, it started as something just for me. I never thought it would see the light of day. But my team really encouraged me to share it.

“One of the songs off the EP, Eyes On Me.. its about…Jack”

Nobody knows about you and Jack—on the roof, beside your therapist. You never mentioned that he was a doctor. You knew the lines had blurred between the two of you in ways they shouldn’t have, but they did.

Your team sees the person you’re singing about in “Eyes On Me”—the one who witnessed your struggle, who saw you at your absolute lowest—as just a fictional creation, a character you invented for the song. They think it's all a metaphor, like it’s some kind of story you wrote to make sense of it all.

You swallow hard, the weight of your words lingering in the air.

 "The thought of him hearing it... I can’t help but wonder what he’d think," you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. "If he heard the song... if he knew it was about that night, about him. Would he recognize it? Would he even remember me at all? It’s been almost a year since that night—the only time we met. I don’t even know if it meant the same to him. For me, it felt like something—something that stuck with me, something I’ll never forget. What if it didn’t matter to him the way it mattered to me? What if I’m the only one still holding on?"

A hollow laugh slips from you as you cover your face with your hands, trying to hide the vulnerability spilling out.

 “I feel delusional,” you say through a cracked smile. “What am I even doing? Holding on to a moment that probably meant nothing to him…I only knew him for a couple of hours. I don’t really know anything about him, but there was just… something. A pull. I don’t know—” You shake your head, frustration rising, but the words still come out soft and unsure.

The therapist studies you for a moment, her expression calm and steady. 

“That night clearly left a mark on you,” she says gently, her voice warm but not pushing. “And it’s okay to wish it meant something to him too. But the connection you felt—that was real. Your experience is valid, even if his was different.”

“I don’t know if I'll ever see him again…I'm headed back to Pittsburgh for a listening party for the EP... it feels like a full-circle moment. From that night when my mental health was at its lowest, to now, with all the growth and healing I've been through.”

“​​Sometimes, we don’t get closure with certain people, and that can be hard. But look at how far you’ve come. You’ve turned your pain into something beautiful—this EP is a true reflection of your resilience. That’s powerful. No matter what happens with him or that chapter, that strength and growth are yours, and no one can take that away from you.”

“I think this listening party isn’t just a celebration of your music—it’s a ceremony for your healing. Let it be both.”

—

ER Shift Change 7:00am

Doctor Michael Robinavitch approached the staff lockers, slowing when he noticed his friend seated nearby, thumbing through a magazine. Not just any magazine—that magazine. The one with the exclusive article about you.

He didn’t have to see the cover to know. He recognized the way Jack’s shoulders tensed, how his jaw clenched ever so slightly. Jack never really talked about you. Not out loud. Not often. What happened that night—what you meant—was a line he rarely crossed in conversation.

Jack was a private guy, especially when it came to certain things. You were one of them. Maybe the biggest one. Whenever your name came up, there was always a pause. A shift in his eyes. 

Michael lingered for a moment, uncertain whether to speak, unsure if Jack would even welcome it. Some subjects, no matter how long it’s been, never lose their weight.

“You know didn’t peg you for a gossip mag guy,” teased, eyebrows raised as he hovered over Jack’s shoulder. 

Startled, Jack shut the magazine he was reading at his locker with a sharp flick, the glossy pages snapping closed. Your face had been on the front cover—radiant, composed, and unmistakably you. Exclusive: ‘Tethered’ EP—A Raw Look Into Her Mental Health Journey

“I’m not—” he started, then stopped. He didn’t have a good excuse. Or maybe he didn’t need one.“Was just… flipping through,” he muttered, but the warmth in his ears gave him away. He rolled the magazine up in his hands.

Michael chuckled softly, not unkindly. Michael opened his locker to put his bag inside. 

“Uh-huh, ‘just flipping through.’” He gave a small, knowing smile, shutting his locker closed. 

Michael wasn’t stupid. He could tell there had been something between you two. The way Jack’s gaze softened when you kissed his cheek the morning you were discharged, the quiet look that lingered on his face long after you’d left—it was all too telling.

Michael realized that day somehow, Jack had a game. A pop star? Who knew?

“You know, I’m still impressed you managed to pull a pop star. Still trying to figure out how you pulled that off…” He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself.

“That’s not what happened, Robby,” Jack’s voice held a hint of annoyance.

“Oh really? Because that goodbye you two had when she was discharged? That told me otherwise.” Michael leaned casually against the staff lockers, his eyes glinting with amusement. A teasing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, as if he were savoring the quiet drama unfolding.

“You’re reading way too much into it.” He busied himself adjusting the strap on his backpack, eyes flicking anywhere but Michael.

“I’m calling what I see…There was something there, Jack. And if there wasn’t—if you didn’t feel anything—you wouldn’t still be following her career.” He gestured to the magazine. “Don’t try to deny it.” 

Jack grabbed his backpack from his open locker, his hands a little too quick as he shoved the magazine inside, like it could somehow erase the evidence.

“That was almost a year ago.” He said it like he was trying to convince himself more than Michael. “People move on.” He shut his locker closed, jaw was tight, and he still wasn’t meeting Michael’s eyes. 

“Clearly you haven’t” 

“It was a moment! That's it. People have those. Doesn’t mean I’m still holding on.” He was lying to himself. He knew it. Michael knew it. But admitting it felt like giving something away—something private, fragile, still half-formed. Like handing over a piece of himself he hadn’t even figured out yet. Something he wasn’t ready to name, let alone explain.

The truth was, part of him felt stupid wishful thinking. Fantasizing about seeing you again.

If he had seen you—if by some miracle you were really here—then what? What was he supposed to do? What would he even say?

What would he want to happen?

You were a popstar, living a life worlds away from his own. Flashing cameras, tour buses, screaming fans. And he was just a doctor—steady, rooted, buried in shift schedules and hospital scrubs. You knew nothing about each other beside that.

Michael leaned against the locker beside him, arms crossed. “You know what the funny thing is, Jack? You keep saying it was just a moment—like that makes it mean less.”

Jack didn’t reply, just stared at the locker door like it had the answers he didn’t.

“But sometimes,” Michael continued, his voice softer now, “a moment is enough to change everything. Doesn’t matter if it lasted an hour or a lifetime. If it’s stuck with you this long, it wasn’t nothing. It’s okay to hold on to it.”

He glanced toward the hallway, then back at Jack.

“Hell, maybe she hasn’t let it go either.” He shrugs walking, leaving Jack standing alone. 

—

Couple Weeks Later Somewhere in Pittsburg 12:00am

You were in a cozy, intimate setting for a secret listening party of your EP, Tethered. The lights were low, the air humming with anticipation, and the space—filled with warm glows from fairy lights and quiet chatter—felt more like a living room than a venue. You’d invited a small group of your day-one fans to share this moment with you, the ones who had been there through every rough demo, late-night live, and cryptic lyric drop.

“Thank you all for being here,” you said, stepping up with a soft smile, your voice carrying just enough nervous excitement to make the moment feel even more real. Kind of a full circle moment to be back here..”

“All the tracks on Tethered are really personal to me,” you began, eyes scanning the room, landing briefly on a few familiar faces. “But Eyes on Me... that one’s the heartbeat of the whole thing. It was the first song I wrote for the EP—and, honestly, it’s the reason the EP even exists.”

You paused, pulling Jack's hoodie back up your shoulder. 

“It’s about what it means to be truly seen by someone,” you said softly. “Not just looked at, not just watched—but seen. All these eyes are on me, you know? But they… they’re the only ones who really see me. Past the noise. Past the stage. Past the version of me I sometimes feel I have to be.”

“This EP… it captures what happened. What shifted. Everything that’s unfolded since I took a step back. At its core, it’s about my healing journey. It’s messy, it’s raw, it’s honest. It’s a piece of myself… that I’m finally ready to share.”

You let the words linger, settling into the quiet that followed. Then you looked up, offering a small, almost shy smile—like you were still getting used to being that open, that scene.

“Anyway… I hope you hear something in it that speaks to you. That makes you feel less alone.”

And with that, the first notes began to play. 

ER Nightshift 12:00am

Surprisingly, it was a calm night at the ER. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, casting a steady glow, an unexpected peace hanging in the air. John sat at one of the computers in central, nodding along to music.

Jack knew John was probably listening to something during the rare downtime before they inevitably got slammed, but he didn’t pay it much attention. Jack was rummaging through some file cabinets when he heard it. 

All these eyes on me,But you're the one who truly sees.

Jack froze. He’d heard those words before. He turned around. His eyes narrowed at the computer monitor where John sat, absorbed in the music. The EP cover glowed from the open tab: Tethered. Track four: Eyes on Me. Your anticipated new music.

He read the title. Read it again. Listening to the words, his chest tightened. His throat went dry.

All these eyes on me,But you're the one who truly sees.On this roof, in quiet space,We connect beyond time and place,With every glance, a playful tease,In your gaze, I find my ease.

It wasn’t just a song. It wasn’t subtle. Every line peeled back something buried deep—something from that night.

He knew this one all too well, even though he was only hearing it for the first time now. And it was about him. You’d written a song about him. For all to hear.

He didn’t know how to feel. 

Part of him wanted to smile—to let that flicker of warmth rise in his chest, because it meant the moment mattered. It wasn’t fleeting or imagined. You’d remembered the rooftop. The quiet. Him.

But another part—the louder one—felt exposed, like a curtain had been yanked back on something he's hiding. And suddenly, it felt like the whole ER, maybe even the whole world, could see a piece of him he hadn’t meant to share.

It was beautiful. And it was too much.

“Are you good?” John side-eyes Jack and furrows his brows. 

Jack didn’t answer.  It felt like everything he’d kept buried was now out in the open, like someone had drawn a map to his heart and handed it to the world.

Jack swallowed hard, trying to push the knot in his throat down. It’s just a song, he reminded himself. But the weight of it—the rawness—was impossible to ignore. He had been okay when it was just a memory. Just something in his head. But hearing it, hearing it out there, made it real in a way he wasn’t ready for.

“I’m fine,” Jack said finally, the words tumbling out too quickly to be convincing. He continues rummaging through the file cabinets. His voice was tight, strained. “Just... processing.”

John raised an eyebrow, studying Jack carefully. “Processing?” he echoed, his gaze shifting from Jack’s rigid shoulders to his face, searching for something more than just a surface reply.

Jack nodded, though it felt hollow, like an answer he wasn't fully sold on himself. “Yeah. Processing.”

John let out a small, knowing sigh. "Okay, sure… 'Processing.'" He wasn’t fooled. He knew this routine well—had seen it before. Jack’s way of shutting down, of keeping things locked behind that wall

“Don’t,” Jack muttered as he grabbed the file he was looking for. He knew that John knew the song—the one John was playing—was about him and Jack could feel the unspoken words hanging in the air.

“Hey, I didn’t say anything,” John said, raising his hand in mock surrender. His eyebrows lifted in teasing challenge, and he swiveled his chair back to face the computer screen. He took a sip from his paper cup, the straw making a faint squeak as it drained the last of his drink. “But, you know… it’s not every day you get a song written about you by a pop star,” John added, his voice light, but the glint in his eyes told a different story.

Annoyed, Jack glanced over his shoulder, giving John a hard stare. He let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head in frustration. Without saying a word, he slammed the file cabinet shut, the sound sharp in the quiet ER.

He turned on his heel and walked out, his footsteps echoing in the hallway.

“Oh, come on, Jack—don’t be like that,” John called after him, a smirk tugging at his lips. “It’s just a little joke. Besides, it’s kinda cool, right? A song written about you. That’s not something most people can say.”

John leaned back in his chair, glancing over his shoulder, still trying to gauge Jack’s mood. “I mean, if it were me, I’d be riding that wave for weeks. But hey, you do you.”

—

A Few Days Later, Pittsburg 3:50pm

You were getting lunch, walking through Pittsburgh, when it all went down. A few paparazzi spotted you—nothing unusual. You even chatted with them for a minute, trying to keep things light. But it got out of hand fast. Word must’ve spread that you were in town after the secret listening party, and before long, more and more cameras swarmed you. What started as a few polite questions turned into a frenzy. You’d been laying low for several days, but it seemed like the buzz had finally caught up to you.

It had been almost a year since you’d been in the spotlight, so you understood the interest—but this? This was overwhelming. Shouting. Flashbulbs. A sudden wave of bodies. Your anxiety builds quickly.

Somehow, you slipped away from the crowd and darted down a narrow alley, desperate to get a moment to breathe. But as you rounded a corner, your foot caught on something and you tripped hard. Pain shot through your ankle as you landed, and you let out a sharp gasp. Trying to get up, you realized your ankle wouldn’t hold. You fumbled for your phone, hands shaking, and called an Uber to get you to the nearest hospital.

The ride blurred by. You leaned your head against the window, trying not to cry—not just from the pain, but from feeling cornered. The chaos. The feeling that even the sidewalk had turned on you. But you cried—that slow, quiet kind of crying that sneaks out despite your best efforts. The kind that doesn’t ask for attention but slips down your cheek anyway.

Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center loomed ahead. You shifted, biting your lip as you left the car.

Inside, the fluorescent lights felt too bright, the antiseptic smell sharp in your nose. Nurses moved briskly. Voices echoed down hallways. 

Jack

The thought hit before you could stop it. You knew he only worked nights, and this was hours too early for him to be here. Still, your eyes searched the faces of passing staff, your heart betraying you with the tiniest sliver of hope.

You limped into the ER, leaning heavily on your left foot, each step sending sharp jolts of pain up your leg. At the triage desk, the nurse barely acknowledged your presence, her eyes fixed on the clipboard in front of her as she asked in a flat, uninterested tone, “Name?”

You took a breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. You give your name. “I think I sprained my ankle?” you muttered, unsure— the words feeling insignificant against the noise in your head.

She scribbled something down and pointed to a row of empty chairs. “Take a seat, please. We’ll get to you soon.”

You lowered yourself slowly into a chair, still trying to steady your breath. The pain in your ankle was sharp and constant, each throb a reminder. You glanced around the room, your mind scattered. The waiting area was quiet, filled only with the low hum of fluorescent lights.

You were a little worried someone might recognize you. But no one looked up. Everyone had their own problems—sick, injured, too wrapped up in their own pain to care.

It felt like hours, but finally, they called your name. The nurse rolled over a wheelchair and carefully helped you into it, the cold wheels rolling over the linoleum floor. You winced slightly as your foot shifted.

They rolled you into the ER, the sterile smell of antiseptic and the quiet hum of machines filling the air. The fluorescent lights above pass in a blur. As the wheel chair rolled down the hallway, your eyes drifted to a large medical room where a team of doctors clustered around someone in critical condition, working fast, urgent.

And that’s when you saw him.

Doctor Jack Abbot—the man you thought about almost every day since that night, months ago.

Even beneath the blue paper gown, gloves, and safety glasses, you knew it was him. The way he moved. The shape of him. The salt-and-pepper curls. He worked with steady, practiced urgency, surrounded by other doctors, trying to save a life.

And then, as if he felt someone watching, he looked up—through the glass doors—and his eyes met yours. 

Your breath hitched. Your heart stopped. Your mouth slightly agape as you stared.

It felt exactly like the first time your laid eyes on each other—like time had slowed just for the two of you. But this time, it didn’t just slow. It stopped completely. Everything else faded away.

He looked away… but then did a double take.

Did he recognize you?

For a moment, he froze—still in the middle of it all, just staring. But then something pulled him back to the moment, to the patient, to the life in his hands.

The nurse guided the wheelchair to a small exam area and helped you settle into the exam bed.

“Just a moment, a doctor will be right in with you” she said, her tone soft but brisk, before she disappeared through the door, leaving you alone in the sterile, quiet room.

You leaned back on the propped but exam bed, trying to focus on your breathing, but it wasn’t easy. The sharp pain in your foot made it hard to keep your thoughts clear. You couldn’t tell if it was the physical discomfort or the rush of emotions that had hit you when you saw him just now—maybe it was a little bit of both. A strange mix of relief and anxiety twisted inside you, and for a moment, you just closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself.

You saw him. You thought about this moment countless of times. What’s gonna happen? What is he gonna say or do? Countless questions swirled in your mind.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Robinavitch,” he says, distracted, eyes scanning your chart.

Your eyes shoot open, snapping you out of your racing thoughts.

“—everyone just calls me Dr. Robby. What seems to be the—”

He stops mid-sentence the moment he looks up and sees your face.

“It’s you—”

You offer a small, uncertain smile, assuming he recognizes you from TV or a magazine. “Yeah…”

But then he says it—casually, like it’s obvious.

“Jack’s girl.”

Jack’s girl? Oh, you shouldn’t like the sound of that. But the way your heart reacts says otherwise.

“Um… I’m sorry?” Your eyes widen, unsure how to respond.

Michael blinks, the words hanging in the air heavier than he meant them to be. He hadn’t planned to say that out loud.

Jack’s girl.That’s what he’d called you in his head for months—the pop star with the lingering presence, the one his friend never really talked about, but never quite let go of either. She had written a song about Jack.

Even if it was just one night. Even if it happened almost a year ago. The impact of it still echoed, apparently, in both of you.

Michael clears his throat, shifting slightly. “Sorry—”

“I think you know my friend… Dr. Abbot, right?” he asks, even though he already knew the answer. 

“Yeah,” you say softly.

“I remember you,” he says, studying you a little more closely now. “From the morning you were discharged. The sparkly boots, the whole vibe… hard to forget.” He chuckles. “You were also wearing—”

His gaze drops to the hoodie you’re wearing. Recognition sparks in his expression.

“That hoodie, actually,” he says, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Jack’s hoodie.”

Your face falls, heat rushing to your cheeks. A wave of embarrassment crawls up your neck. For a split second, you wish the floor would crack open beneath you and swallow you whole. It felt like being exposed—like something intimate had slipped into the open before you were ready to claim it.

“You still have the hoodie you stole…” Michael teases, crossing his arms.

“I didn’t steal it,” you say quickly, fiddling with the strings self-consciously at . “I… borrowed it.”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying this a little too much. “Right. I borrowed it. For, what—almost a year?”

That’s when Michael understood—really understood. He saw it in the way you fiddled with the hoodie strings—absentminded, protective. It wasn’t just something you threw on. It was a memory you hadn’t let go of.

He smiled, quietly, as if he knew something unspoken.

It wasn’t just a fleeting encounter between you and Jack. There was something deeper there, something unfinished. Something still waiting to be figured out. A connection neither of you had let go of, even after all this time.

Michael notices the way your expression tightens, the puffiness in your eyes, how your fingers keep fidgeting with the strings of the hoodie.

He gives a small nod, almost to himself, then clears his throat. “Anyway,” he says, pivoting smoothly, “What seems to be the problem?’

Robby glances down at your ankle, then back up at you, his expression soft but tense.

You shift uncomfortably. “I was running,” you mumble, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

He doesn’t say anything for a second, just looks at you, reading between the lines. He knows.

“Let me guess—press?” he asks, voice calm but edged with concern.

You nod, sniffling and wiping some tears. 

You explain what happened as he examines it.

“You really shouldn’t be out there alone,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. Then, meeting your eyes, he adds, “You okay?”

You shake your head, honesty breaking through.

“It was scary,” you admit quietly. “I haven’t felt that much anxiety in a long time.”

He’s gentle when he lifts your leg, supporting it with one hand while the other presses, prods, checks. His touch is clinical, but careful—like he knows how much more than your ankle might be hurting right now. 

He doesn’t rush. Don't talk just to fill the space. He gives you the silence, like it’s something he knows you need.

After a minute, he meets your eyes. “Doesn’t feel broken. Probably a sprain. We’ll get an X-ray to be sure.” He grabs your chart and starts taking notes down.

You nodded. You needed to think about something else, to calm your nerves. 

Fiddling with your sleeves, you brought up Jack. 

“I… I thought Doctor Abbot worked nights?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but your voice betrays you—too soft, too curious.

“I just… I didn’t think he’d be here” you murmured, more to yourself than to Michael.

“You saw him,” Michael stated. 

"He and a few other doctors were working on someone when the nurse was rolling me in.”

Ah, Michael thought. The construction worker who fell. He’d gone off the scaffolding—twenty feet, more. 

“He mainly works nights. but shows up when no one expects him to. Picks up day shifts sometimes when we’re short… or when he’s restless.”

Michael doesn’t say more. Jack was already unraveling, barely keeping it together. Ever since your song about him came out, Jack's been burying himself in work—double shifts, anything to stay distracted. He'd been running on fumes for days, and now this?

If Jack had seen you when you saw him, he was probably already internally freaking out as he worked on the patient in the trauma room, Michael thought. And once Jack found out you’d been chased down and hurt? That would be the thing to finally push him over the edge. His friend is going to combust. 

—

“He’s stable,” a nurse called out, eyes on the monitor. “BP’s 122 over 78. Holding steady.”

Jack exhaled, blood still on his gloves, sweat at his temple. The last thirty minutes had been a race—working to stop internal bleeding on a construction worker who’d fallen from scaffolding.

“Dr. Abbot, you good?” John asked, adjusting the ventilator. “You zoned out for a second back there.”

“I just…” he swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. “I… I thought I saw someone—” 

Jack froze mid-movement, halfway through peeling off his gown. His eyes flicked toward the glass doors across the ER. Was his mind playing tricks on him? He’d been working nonstop lately, trying to distract himself. Now, because he was so exhausted, he was starting to think he was seeing things — but not just anything. He was seeing you.

“Just— find me if something changes” 

He stripped off his gown and gear, tossed them into the hazard bin, and pushed through the double swinging doors of the trauma room, heading straight for the triage board.

When he reached the triage board, his eyes immediately scanned for your name. And there it was—East Wing, Exam Room 15.

His breath hitched, and he swallowed hard, his jaw tightening.

“What?” he whispered to himself, his eyebrows furrowing. 

Even as your name stared back at him, his mind refused to accept it. He blinked twice, as though trying to clear some phantom fog, but nothing changed. It couldn’t be you. There was no way. His pulse quickened, his instincts warring with the impossible thought that somehow, despite everything, it was you.

What were you doing in Pittsburgh? What the hell were you doing in his ER?

He was hoping—praying—you weren’t at rock bottom again, despite all the press about you being in a better place since then.

His mind spun through a hundred possibilities, each more reckless than the last.

With a deep breath, he made his way down the hall to the East Wing. As he approached Exam Room 15, he heard Michael’s voice, followed by the unmistakable sound of your laugh.

He paused for a split second at the door, a knot of disbelief tightening in his chest, then pushed it open with haste And there you were. It was you.

[rafesbabygirlx]

hiii can you do a story where the reader and rafe have been flirting and sexting for years but they’re relationship is extremely toxic (nate jacobs vibes) when they see eachother at a party they go home together and fuck hard hihi lol :)

YES! Sorry this took so long! 😢

✧ 𝙵𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚈𝚘𝚞, 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚈𝚘𝚞 - 𝚃𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

✧ 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚐, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚞𝚗, 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝 (𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚍𝚘𝚐𝚐𝚢)

✧ 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 | 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

Rafe 7:07pm: I can’t wait to you in that little black dress. I can’t wait to fuck you in it more.

You 7:09pm: You really wanna fuck me baby? Please, like you’d even bother to be near me when we get there.

Rafe 7:10pm: Come on you know it’s not like that. My friends keep me busy baby. U know you’re my girl.

You 7:11pm: See you there loverboy.

You arrive at the part around 9. By 9:30 you’re about 5 drinks deep. Still no sign of Rafe. You’re not shocked. Your friends keep you distracted so you were ok for now. But him being a let down yet again lingered in the back of your mind.

You spotted him later. A coating of coke dusted his nostril. None of the fucking morons he surrounded himself with, couldn’t even be bothered to tell him how stupid he looks. A girl standing a little too close to him, hand on his back rubbing it, the same way you do when he’s laying against your chest in bed.

Rafe 10:25pm: You look really fucking sexy. Just like I knew you would in that dress baby.

You roll your eyes and set your phone back down. You know he saw you do that but you couldn’t care less. Two can play his game. One he’s played a little too long. You want to show him that you won’t be walked all over anymore. Fuck him.

The perfect plan fell right into your lap as a somewhat handsome guy walked over to you while you sat and nursed your drink. He kept asking you questions that you half answered, but he still stayed around. Finally, you downed your drink, pulling him to the dance floor.

You sway your hips to the music, leaning into the guy, whose name you don’t care to remember. Your friends cheer you on. From the corner of your eye, you see Rafe. Rafe is silently seething. Looks like you beat him at his game.

He’s never once’s paraded you around like he claimed he would. You just wanted to be the girl on his arm at a party. But instead it’s some washed up looking coke head that probably paid him too little for the drugs but boosted his ego. Still with how shitty he treated you, why did doing this to him hurt?

Rafe pushed his way through the crowded room. Shoving what’s his name off of you before dragging you out of the party by a tight grip on your arm. He threw you in his car, despite you telling him to let go, making his way to his house.

When he got you up to his room, you broke through the door, lips glued to each others. he shoved you against the dresser. “You like fucking with me like at? Think it’s cute?”

“The way you treat me like shit all the time. Why not?”

He laughed. Not a fun light hearted laugh. A dark low one. One that meant you were in trouble. He opened his draw and a glimmer of metallic caught your eye. Rafe pulled out his gun and say it in the dresser next you. He’d never use it on you, but he wanted you aware of the power he’d always hold over you.

“You’re mine, and I don’t care what you have to say about it.”

His hand dropped, fingers grazed your inner thigh. He didn’t even have to tell, your legs spread on their own. He touched the fabric of your underwear, making you squirm. He placed a hand on your waist.

“You better not fucking move.”

His finger moved the lace out of the way. Jamming 2 inside you, knuckle deep, with no warning. You gasped but didn’t move. They curled just right. He knew exactly what you liked, that’s why you kept coming back for more.

You grasped the edge of the dresser for balance. He adds a third and plunges them in and out of you. He knows all your tells, so when your legs begin to shake he retracts and drags you to the bed.

“All fours baby. Told you I was gonna fuck you in that dress.”

He smacks your ass hard as you begin to crawl up, making you jump and lose balance giving him the perfect angle of you. He climbs up behind you, not bothering to undress. He grabs both of your arms and holds your wrists behind your back.

Your face is pressed into his duvet and your back is arch just right. He pulls your thong off with his free hand, releasing himself from his pants with the same one right after.

He coats his cock in your wetness before sliding in slowly. You hear him groan from the feeling. He takes his time building up the speed just to tease you. But before you know it he’s plowing into you.

You feel yourself getting closer, and Rafe knows it too the way your clenching down on him making it almost impossible for him to move. He slows his thrust as he leans down and whispers in your ear, “I’m really debating whether or not I should let you cum. After what you did tonight? I should cum all over this dress and throw you out of the house.”

“Rafe please.”

“You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

You found it hard to speak but you knew he’d really punish you like this. The only guy to ever get you to cum the way he can. He knew that and it strokes his ego. Again, he had way too much power over you. You sucked in a breath, and attempted to get the words out.

“Rafe please, I’ll be your good girl from now on. Please let me cum.”

“Yeah? We’ll have to work on that, but it’s cute you tried. I can give in this once.”

He picks up the pace again. Your arms are sore from being pulled back so tightly and your cheek is numb. Rafe’s hand comes up and slams hard on your ass again, the sound vibrating off his walls.

“Cum now if you want to at all. I don’t plan on being here all night.”

Against your own strength, your core tightens and you throw yourself against him with something that something that sounds like a shriek. You go limp in his grasp and he continues to move. Once he’s close, he flips you on your back and cums all over the top of your dress like he said.

“Marking my favorite piece of yours.”

He hops off the bed and changes into sweats. He tosses you a shirt and gets settled on his side of the bed as he waits for you to change. You don’t bother cleaning your dress, you know that’d make him mad. The humiliation of it drying over night would make his twisted mind happy. But, at the same time having you stay over cuddled up next to him would make him just as happy. No matter how fucked is he can be, you’re still his girl.

Tags: @rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @aupernatural-teenwolflover @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @diasnohibng @slurpdew @alphabetically-deranged @runawayrafetrain @currentresidentinhell @slut-4-rafey @akobx @laniirackssss @jjmaybankmylovee @slut4you @larema121 @sc05 @k4yr14 @chromeheartsbaby @jennieonline @nemesyaaa @cherrywriterrr

[gi4hao]

some vernon x acts of service fluff for you ♡

vernon dyed his hair black this morning. he kind of loves it, and he hopes you will too. obviously the execution isn’t perfect; there are some dark stains on his ears and his forehead and he ruined two t-shirts in the process. but he knows how much you love that color on him.

this afternoon, vernon did some shopping. he needed a new shirt and he remembered the pretty bracelet that had caught your eye last time you were in town. he hopes you’ll be happy when he gifts it to you.

and this evening, vernon cooked dinner. it’s not done yet, but it will be in about thirty minutes. mingyu sent him an easy yet sophisticated recipe which he followed to the letter, and it turned out pretty well, at least on the outside. he hopes you’ll like it.

it’s past 7pm when he hears your key turn in the front door’s lock. the oven is a bit greasy, there’s oregano spilled on the counter, the wrapping of your gift is a little messy, and his ears are red from his attempts to remove the dye from his skin. perhaps from stress too.

and suddenly it hits him. he feels stupid. what if he’s doing too much? it is too much, isn’t it?

“hi handsome” your voice pulls him out of his panic as he exits the kitchen, his hands a little moist. you’re ready to lean in for a kiss, it’s almost muscle memory at this point, but the sight of his hair makes you pause.

“love it. and love the new shirt”, you reply, letting your hand brush against the strands of hair on his forehead before finally going in for the kiss. “what’s that smell? did you cook something?”

his ears turn a new shade of red as he grabs your arm to lead you to his living room. “i did, but you don’t wanna go in there right now”, he warns you, grabbing your arm to lead you to the living room instead.

it’s rather unusual for vernon to look so agitated, especially around you. you look at your surroundings, trying to notice anything different.

“is everything okay?”

he nods, a bit faster than usual, before digging his hand in his pocket and pulling out a small gift with a wonky ribbon on top.

“got you a little something today. but you can return it if you don’t like it, or even if you change your mind in a few days. or weeks. or even months, really.”

you’re only now noticing the dye stains on his skin, which draws a chuckle out of you. he looks so frantic it’s almost comical. without a word, you put the gift aside and stand up, pretty sure to know what this is all about.

“i already know i love that gift. i’ll love it forever and i would not trade it for any other. ever. because it comes from you, and that’s all i want.”

completely unfazed by how easily you saw right through him, he looks down at the hand you’re still holding, the one with a brand new silver ring on his fourth finger.

your words were heard and understood, but you can feel him internally tiptoeing around what’s really on his mind. his eyes, however, carry the same sweetness they always do when he looks at you.

“this is gonna sound really dumb but, i just want to make sure you don’t feel pressured to love… my gift. or to commit to it. i promise i won’t be mad if you tell me you don’t want it”, he tells you, grabbing your other hand to get a look at your own ring, the exact same as him.

it’s now 7:25pm, meaning that it’s been almost 24 hours since vernon has gotten down on one knee to ask the most nerve-wracking question of his entire life. 24 hours since you were legally allowed to call him your fiancé, a much awaited upgrade from the ‘boyfriend’ status.

last night had been a dream come true. but this morning, an uneasy feeling had started crawling into vernon’s mind, making him feel like maybe that dream of his would never come true after all.

dyeing his hair, making dinner, buying gifts, he had really thought about doing anything in his power to keep you from second-guessing your answer from yesterday.

still, nothing would calm his mind except maybe hearing the words from your mouth.

“i’ll love your gift because i love you. and because i spent the last 24 hours on cloud nine, thinking about how lucky i am that you proposed”, you told him in your calmest voice. “i’ll be honest, i even spent my entire day practicing saying “my husband” instead of “boyfriend”… and it sounds really, really nice.”

and that is the exact moment when the crushing weight of doubt and insecurity is lifted from vernon’s shoulders.

he still feels a bit stupid, but in a way that feels great, warm and almost comforting. for the second night in a row, he’s overwhelmed by the pure yet simple feeling of knowing his love is perfectly reciprocated.

“so… does that mean you still want me to be your husband?” he asks with a relieved smile as you trap him in the tightest hug, one hand running in his freshly dyed locks.

he loves you and you love him, that’s the one thing he doesn’t need to hope for. he knows it, and oh how he loves knowing it.

[yun-fangz]

masterlist. ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

please note: these are all works of FICTION. they are not meant to be taken out of context or used as a representation of the boys irl.

my works are member x fem!reader only.

all works are 18+ unless stated otherwise. minors do not interact.

last updated: 5/30/25

Kim Hongjoong:

twt links.

fleur.

dilf!designer hongjoong x intern!reader. age gap, suggestive content

2:08am

dilf!hongjoong, toys, punishment

Park Seonghwa:

twt links.

giving seonghwa head.

smut drabble, cunnilingus (m rec)

Jeong Yunho:

brainrot. ft twt link

just a thought (ft. twt link)

smut, size kink, backshots, yunho's a tease

twt links.

Kang Yeosang:

twt links.

Choi San:

twt links.

perv!san

smut, vouyer!san, roommate!au

another random thought

backshots, headlocks, strength kink

Song Mingi:

Ain't shit.

smut, college!au, cheating, cursing, reader fucks yunho, both of you are kinda shitty.

twt links.

Jung Wooyoung:

twt links.

Choi Jongho:

twt links.

marking with jongho

suggestive, making out, marking

7:25pm

suggestive/smut, dilf jongho, size kink, mentions of size training.

dilf! jongho brainrot

smut, short story in bullet points, sugar daddy!jongho, college student !reader

on your knees.

dilf!jongho, suggestive/smut, jongho is whipped for reader

pretty bows

suggestive, dilf!jongho, hyperfem!reader, sexual tension

bear hybrid!jongho

smut, awkward turned feral!jongho, readers first heat, prey!hybrid!reader, roommates to lovers

forever boy

smut, sub!jongho, pegging, first time, pretty soft and tame

nsfw link + blurb.

OT8/multiple members:

accidentally sending a thirst text | hyung line. | maknae line.

fake texts, suggestive w/ humor.

bush talk. | hyung line. | maknae line.

suggestive fake texts, very bad humor, freak!ateez

optional bias

smut, body worship, fingering, that man is in love with you.

life of the party

suggestive/smut, drug usage, alcohol consumption, frat!ateez

sub!ateez headcannons

mtl format, petplay

dilf!ateez brainrot.

dumbification w/ dilf!teez

sleepy head.

somnophilia, oral (m rec.)

yungi twt links.

matz twt links.

yunhwa texts.

© 2025 Yun-Fangz All Rights Reserved.

[ultralspblr]

LET THE MORNING DECIDE (PRT 1)

Modern AU: Sinners

Stack x OC x Smoke

Mature Audiences only (18+) // EXPLICIT LANGUAGE

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3

.・゜゜・.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.・゜゜・．

Saturday 7:23am

There she was…well, there they were. All three of them. Last night felt like a dream. Lena had always been so prudent. Never in a million years did she ever think that she'd wake up wedged between the two men she'd loved longest and wanted most in her life.

What started as a fun game of Truth or Dare between friends quickly turned into a passionate night where Truth met Desire. Now awake, a million thoughts swirled in her mind. Her muscles ached from hours of intertwined limbs and wandering mouths. She was exhausted, but in the sweetest way possible.

She'd been up for several minutes, just staring as dawn began to spill through the skylight above them. With it came the warm tinge of regret. Not the type of regret that carried guilt or shame, but the kind that created unease from an impending storm that had yet to come.

Smoke and Stack slept on, facing her, their arms draped across her waist as if one slackened grip might let her disappear. Lena laid there, breathed them in, and let herself feel wanted just for a minute before she recounted in her mind the steps that led to her present situation.

.・゜゜・.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.・゜゜・．

Friday 12:53pm

Lena couldn't wait to clock out. It was Friday. Payday. Most people didn't even bother to show up to the office because of the long weekend ahead. She could have wfh today, but she liked the silence.

Her grey cubicle sat in the furthest corner of the room, closest to the windows, but miles away from the exit. She usually kept her desk clutter free aside from the leaning tower of documents threatening to slide off her desk. At its center sat her computer; to the right, a fake plant propped up a cracked frame holding a weathered photo of her and the twins.

Lena had met Smoke and Stack back in tenth grade study hall, when she signed up as a volunteer tutor. They were lanky then, still growing into themselves, but even back in high school, they stood out.

Smoke, the older twin, was silent, a boy of very few words, but carried himself with a type of confidence that made people notice him whenever he entered a room. Action was everything with him, and what was understood didn't need to be spoken out loud.

Stack, however, was the more boisterous twin. Quick minded and slick talking, he could charm the panties off a nun. He was the type of person who knew how to work the room and everyone who was in it. Always there to lighten the mood or flip the energy on a dime.

What started as a few study sessions turned into a regular thing, and then something deeper. By the end of the semester, Lena wasn’t just tutoring them; she was their go-to girl, and they'd been inseparable ever since.

Lena had been working diligently until her phone buzzed. Stack's name lit up her phone's notifs, and sent a surge of excitement down her spine.

1:12pm - StackMo: Wyd??? 👀

1:15pm - Lena: At work, bout to get some lunch w/Chelle. Waiting on her to come down so we can head out together😋 Wyd?

1:17pm - StackMo: Just got up. Bout to pick up me and Smoke's fits for tonight.😏

1:18pm - SmokeMo: NIGGA, YOU JUST GETTIN UP? You should've been up!! We got shit to do!!! I'm over here at the club calling yo' damn phone cause I need you down here.

1:22pm - StackMo: 🙄....Anyways....U comin to the party t'night Lena? 👀

1:23pm - Lena: Oh yea, HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y'ALL 🎂 🥳 🎉

1:25pm - StackMo: Thank ya, thank ya 🙂‍↕️

1:29pm - SmokeMo: NIGGA DO YOU NOT SEE ME CALLIN U!!! ANSWER DA PHONE FOOL!!!!!

1:30pm - StackMo: So U comin to the party or nah 🤪?

1:31pm - Lena: Yea, I'm comin 🤗 What's the dress code?

1:35pm - StackMo: Fly N Freaky. We comin as fly. Ladies are comin as freaky 😈

1:36pm - Lena: Oh 😶...Let me see if I got something suitable in my closet 😅 lol

1:37pm - SmokeMo: Don't worry bout the dress code. Just come as yoself. Besides, you'll only be celebratin one twin, as my worser half will be dead IF HE DON'T GET HIS BLACK ASS OUT THAT GODDAMN BED!!!!

1:38pm - StackMo: C...U DTM 🙄… I'm already omw🤨

1:39pm - SmokeMo: .... Nigga, I see yo’ location.

Lena couldn't help but laugh to herself as she let the bickering twins continue to bicker like two grumpy old men. She didn’t even notice Chelle walking up until her friend flopped into the cubicle next to her.

Lena had the biggest smile plastered to her face.

“Girl, what's got you smiling so big?”

“The twins are actin’ up in the chat again. Today's their birthday, and they were asking to see if I was coming to their party or not.”

“And you are going, right?”

Chelle's eyes narrowed like she already knew the answer.

“I'm going, I just gotta find something appropriate to wear.”

“APPROPRIATE?! Ain' shit appropriate about them niggas. I wouldn't be surprised if the theme was to come in nothing but glitter....just naked”

“Well....Stack did say the theme was Fly N Freaky.”

Chelle rolled her eyes.

“Oh Lord. If I had a dollar for every freaky-ass theme they came up with. Remember when the cops showed up last year and ended up staying for the party?”

Lena chuckled, cheeks turning red. A time was had that night, and she remembers every part of it. She was proud of her boys.

Most people had known the SmokeStack twins for years, their reputation often preceding them, and not in the best light. With the advent of opening their nightclub, they've taken a bad rep and flipped it on its head.

Smoke managed the business. He drew up the plans, closed the deals, and ran the operations. Stack was the pitchman. He found the funds, charmed investors, and promoted the club. In no time, the twin's business that they started a few years ago had taken off.

Chelle leaned in, grinning slyly at her friend.

“Mmhmm...So which twin you 'gon be going home with tonight?”

Lena straightened up her back instantly.

"Neither one! It's not even like that with them."

“Mmmhmm…”

“I’m serious!”

She said, looking away.

“Smoke said I could just come as myself... but...”

“But?”

Chelle pressed, nosy as hell.

“...I just… don't want to look outta place, is all. Nothing more, nothing less."

Chelle threw her hands up in protest.

"Fine, I'll let it go....for now. So what are you going to wear?"

Lena, now looking at her friend with hesitation, hands fidgeting together, before she blurts out her answer.

“I was just gonna put something on from my closet.”

Chelle gave her a pointed look. That “girl, now you know better” stare. And honestly, she wasn't wrong.

Lena was far from being a fashionista. She wore her glasses out of habit, not need, and stuck to a neutral wardrobe: linen V-neck shirts, slacks or mid-rise boyfriend jeans, cardigans or blazers she paired to pull everything together… or to blend in. The only real showstoppers were her accessories: shoes, bags, and jewelry collected during her debutante days, tucked in her closet like old memories waiting for their second life.

They held the silence until Lena broke.

She got up, leaned on Chelle’s shoulder, arms locking onto hers, looking up to her in a pleading manner. Chelle looked down into Lena's puppy dog eyes, both women breaking into a giggle.

Chelle exhaled, chuckling at her friend's persuasive front.

“I'll help. But it's going to take A LOT of work. So grab your purse, and leave that laptop here. The work day is done, and the weekend is calling us."

Lena squealed, locking arms with her friend as they headed for the exit and out into the afternoon sun.

.・゜゜・.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.・゜゜・．

Friday 4:50pm

“Now bih. I know that is not what you decided to pick out. Go put that back!”

At this point Chelle started to get irritated with her friend. The two had spent the last three hours going from store to store at Clarksdale's only mall. When Chelle signed on to help Lena out, she didn't think it would take almost all afternoon, but she should have known better.

They were inside Club Juke, the raunchiest boutique in Clarksdale. The walls were lined with outfits backless, blinged with rhinestones, and some outfits looked more like statements than fabric.

Lena mumbled.

“What's wrong with this one?”

Chelle pinched the bridge of her nose, lips pursed as to hold back from cussing her friend out.

“What's NOT wrong with it?!”

Of all the things Lena could have picked out, somehow she chose a beige, sleeveless, turtleneck, ankle length, body contouring maxi dress. Chelle was confused as to how she was even able to find that dress here.

Chelle paused and leaned against the round clothing rack as if to collect her composure.

“Lena baby, you gotta work with me! You're not going brunching with your mama and her church friends. You’re angling for two birthday boys and a room full of Clarksdale’s baddest.”

Chelle didn't lie. Smoke and Stack were always attractive men and never had issues garnering wandering glances from women. Stack rotated so many women in and out, you'd think he was selling ass. Smoke wasn't shy either. Unlike Stack, he held a steady stream of visitors who came to "catch up" whenever they passed through town.

Lena’s shoulders curled inward. She clutched the hanger like a shield

Chelle's face began to soften. Her lips parted into a frown as her downturned eyes pierced Lena's saddened gaze. 

“I just want you to stop being scared and make that leap before it's too late. Better you warm their beds than some random filly”

Lena’s laugh came thin.

“...Beds…Plural…Classy...”

“Facts.”

Chelle’s gaze flicked to the dress.

“Put Sister Wife Beige back, and let’s find you something more enticing.”

The levity of Chelle's words sounded harsh, but Lena knew it came from a place of tough love. She didn't know when it happened, but over time, feelings for both twins had settled deep within her heart. She secretly loved when Stack would teasingly flirt with her, even though she met his comments with a simple nudge or an eye-roll and fastly changed the subject.

As for Smoke, she looked forward to feeling the weight of his gaze, piercing every part of her being. She’d avoid eye contact just to keep from unraveling, yet from the corner of her eye, she could always feel him watching her.

They were her only friends, besides Chelle. Crossing that line was out of the question, but lately, Lena had felt uneasy about their relationship. Their schedules were packed, their time scarce, and now she had to schedule a damn calendar invite just to hug them.

“EARTH TO LENA!!!”

Chelle snapped, drawing attention from everyone in the store, including the cashier in the front.

“Y'all can go back to shoppin'. Nothin’ to see here”

She then turned back around, eyes focused on Lena.

“Girl, are you okay? I've been trying to get your attention for the longest. Got me screamin’ in these people's store.”

Lena, now out of her daze, was now focused on her friend holding up a gaudy outfit.

“Oh, hell no…..No……NO!!”

"OH HELL YES!!!"

“How would I even put that on? There's barely any material there. It's just straps…and rhinestones…”

“Exactly! That's all you really need for a Fly N Freaky ass party.”

“I'm NOT buying that, and I'm certainly not wearing it.”

“YOU ARE WEARING THIS! Don't worry about buying anything, because it's on my man today.”

Chelle held up a platinum credit card with a name inscribed on the front that did not seem to belong to her.

“Does Chance know you have his credit card?” 

“Girl, what HIS is MINE, and what's MINE is MINE. That's how relationships work.”

Lena busted out in laughter.

“Oh,and before I forget…..”

Chelle’s eyes gestured down.

“What?”

Chelle gestured again. This time, she looked directly at Lena's pants. Blinking intensely.

"Wha-? Are you having a stroke?? What are you doing?"

Chelle sucked her teeth. Tired of friends obliviousness.

“Lord, pray for her!....your situation..is it...SITUATED??”

"OH!!!...Well…"

Chelle stops Lena before she can even answer.

Exactly! So quit your whining! I’m buying this outfit for you, YOU’RE GONNA WEAR IT, and that's the end of it. Besides, we still have to tame that ‘situation’ before the party.

“Fine!”

Defeated but buzzing, Lena followed her to the register. Every step a mix of dread, excitement, and something she half expected all along.

[atinystraynstay]

Pretty Boy Rock - Yoon Jeonghan

Synopsis: Every girl in your office swooned over Yoon Jeonghan besides you. Yet, Jeonghan always liked a challenge.

Pairing: Colleague!Yoon Jeonghan x fem. reader

Genre: "I won't fall for you because everyone else does" girl meets the "I get whoever I want" boy

Inspired by @aaniag - thanks for tagging me in this post ♡ this is only the second one so we still have a long way to go!

First Encounters Mini Series: #1: #2: #3: #4: Wonwoo #5: Jeonghan #6: #7: #8: Dino

Word Count: 2k

Friday afternoon, 12:25pm

"Did you see what Jeonghan is wearing today?" "Girl, how could I not notice? My attention was all over his slacks." "The front or the back?"

Oh god. Give me a fucking break.

If there was one thing you hated, it was gossip around the office. Especially when it came in the form of girls basically drooling over one of your colleagues, Yoon Jeonghan. And of all places, they decided to take their little thirst fest into the break room.

"You know, there is something that I noticed," you said, popping into the conversation.

Immediately, heads snapped towards your direction. You were a bit taken back by the abrupt movement, fearing that their own heads would fall off. Either because they didn't realize you were in the room or they were interested in what you out of all people had to say. You were one of the few survivors of the trance Jeonghan seemed to place over your female colleagues. And if you had something to say regarding the matter, they surely were interested.

You couldn't help but smile slightly as you set down your silverware. The element of surprise had to be on your side here. You just had come in to enjoy your salad, but why not enjoy a show?

All the women leaned in, anticipating for what you might have to say. Your eyes glanced from side to side, as if you were scooping the scene to make sure there were no unwanted listeners. Getting the hint, the women leaned further in to hear the secret you were about to spill.

Time to go in the for the kill. In the loudest voice you could possible muster, you said the following:

"The way you talk about Jeonghan is quite disgusting. You hate when the men in the office talk about your skirts or how tight your blouses, but here you are drooling over Jeonghan in just a pair of pants? Pathetic. Close your mouths, ladies, or you might flood the office."

The small group gasped at you, eyes glaring at you but also glancing around to make sure nobody had looked in their direction. Their faces red in embarrassment as you smirked triumphantly.

Being the polite person you are, you bowed your head gently to pardon yourself. Gathering all the trash from your lunch, you threw it away and was about to make your exit.

"You're just upset that you're not Jeonghan's type," one of the woman muttered.

You couldn't help but laugh at their claim. You turned towards the group who seemed to be mustering all the courage they could to stand up to you. At the same time, you raised an eyebrow and had your hands on your hips. Do they really think their words will hurt you?

"Oh no! What will I ever do?" You said dramatically. "At least I don't live in some delusion where me and my friends are all after the same guy? I mean, he can only pick one of you. Or worse, he picks none of you."

Their eyes widened and mouths dropped at your words. Don't mess with the bull or you might get the horns. They seemed to be trying to come up with another comeback, but all you could do was walk away. Not worth wasting your breath on them.

You began to make your way back to your cubicle. You still had a few reports you needed to get done with before you could close out for the weekend. It wasn't that you hated your job. If anything, you kind of liked the routine it put you in. You even were beginning to be handed more responsibilities like leading presentations and joining brainstorming sessions for different marketing campaigns.

You definitely didn't have the time to be oogling over the looks of Yoon Jeonghan.

As you settled back at your dress, you let out a sigh. As invested as you were in the work you were doing, you couldn't help but feel as if time was dragging now that it was towards the later part of the day. Just 3 more hours.

"Well look who it is," a voice called out.

The hairs on the back of your neck rose a bit. You recognized that voice anywhere. Your attention was locked on the computer monitor in front of you, thinking that if you ignore the interruption it would just go away naturally. That was until you felt like something was looming over.

With a narrow gaze, you looked up to see the devil himself - Yoon Jeonghan. His arms rested against the top of your cubicle wall. You realy thought you had been silent enough to get back to work without alerting the beast. But by judging by the smirk curled on his lips, you knew he had been waiting for you. The black tie was loose around his neck with the sleeves of his white button up were rolled up to his forearms.

"Missed you, darling." "What can I do to help you, Mr. Yoon?" You did your best to keep a montone voice.

You didn't want to give any sort of impression you could be into what is happening.

"Mr. Yoon? What is with the formalies, y/n?" He gasped. "Well, I'm here to do my job and not entertain whatever this is," you explained.

"Is it actually that harmful for a man to be friendly?" "But what's the catch?" "Go out with me."

Your eyes widened and you nearly laughed. He frowned at your reaction but still stood his ground. There was no need to give any indicator that his ego had deflated a bit. He was not used to someone being so upfront with their rejection, normally accustomed to a shy "I don't know." But you were different. There was a reason he did this little waltz with you.

You and Jeonghan have been working together since you joined the company last year. He was technically someone in your department that could have been a mentor, but you were quickly swayed away by his flirtatious manner. Seeing that you were not dropping on your knees, begging for his attention, Jeonghan saw the challenge and knew he could beat it. There was a way to get into your heart, no matter how icy and impenetrable you wanted to come across.

He would crack the code, one way or another.

"I don't think it's a joke, doll. We're two attractive people. Come on. One meal couldn't hurt you." "Jeonghan, being in the same room as you is sometimes insufferable. How do I even know you don't want to go out with me because someone else was busy, hmm? I mean, weren't you just coupled up with the receptionist?" "Couldn't be fit into her Google Calendar."

You rolled your eyes at his response before dropping your gaze back down to your computer. You pretended to be typing away at one of the numerous documents you had pulled open, hoping it was enough for Jeonghan to get the hint.

However, he could tell you weren't budging quite yet. He also picked up on your little act as your screen was completely black. The brightness from the screen wasn't reflecting onto your face whatsoever. Still, he found you absolutely adorable.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. This is unprofessional of me, y/n. I'll leave you be."

Fucking finally.

Monday morning, 8:59am

Ding

Your heels clicked along the tile flooring of your office. It poured during your commute into work, which caused you to be stuck behind more traffic than usual. You didn't always mind, but it just put you in a foul mood. Especially since you had to sacrifice your Monday morning coffee run. It was ritual for you, and now the whole week felt like it was just off balance.

"Woah y/n. Your bad mood seems to have brought the bad weather," a voice called out to you.

Your gaze narrowed in the direction the voice came from. Your hair was slightly damped as you had to run into the front of the building from your parking spot because of course you didn't think it was going to run and didn't bring an umbrella with you.

Looking over, you noticed it was one of the girls from the break room on Friday. You rolled your eyes to refrain yourself from sticking up your middle finger. You just offered a polite smile before marching to your desk. As you moved, you heard her and her friends giggling at you. This is why you despised any sort of office relationship.

"Hey, y/n. You okay?" Jeonghan called out.

You were about to enter your cubicle when you saw Jeonghan overlooking your cubicle again. Your jacket rested on the back of your chair. it would be a miracle if it dried at all before the end of the day. You were also grateful you had a pair of flats you could change into in attempt to save your soaked shoes too. Plus, it as a good excuse to slip out of heels. You didn't mind wearing them but always valued comfort over appearance.

"Yeah," you murmured.

Usually, you would expect a snide comment from Jeonghan. Or a flirty attempt in righting the situation. But there was nothing. It cause you to freeze and look up to see what was going on. Jeonghan was only staring at you with almost a friendly smile on his face. Not a smirk but a smile.

You wanted to question it, but as you were calming down from your hectic morning, something else caught your attention. An iced coffee was sitting on your desk with a winky face on it. What the fuck?

You opened your mouth to question it but looked at Jeonghan instead. In response, he winked at you before slipping behind the wall that divided the two of you.

Standing there, you felt something unusual throughout your body. You felt warm and tingly, especially in your stomach. Your heart was doing somersaults. It was comparable to in cartoons when the heart leaps out of the character's chest. You stared at the coffee, specifically at the marker drawn winky face staring back at you.

Jeonghan did this? For me?

Your eyes couldn't help but wonder to see if this was a prank or if there was a hidden camera. Jeonghan still wasn't lurking in his usual spot. You also noticed that nobody else had an iced coffee on their desk awaiting for them. A blush overtook your cheeks, but you quickly sat down before anyone noticed.

Reaching forward, you moved the plastic container towards you to see it was from the local coffee shop you frequent. It was the place you went every Monday morning, the place you had to skip out on today or else you would be late. But what struck you was that he got your exact order.

Your blush intensified. You kept your head ducked as you took a sip out of the delicious drink. There was no denying the smile on your face wasn't just because of the coffee but because of Yoon Jeonghan.

And on the other side of the wall, Jeonghan was smirking to himself. He got his computer turned on before going to make himself a cup of coffee from the break room. He didn't often frequent coffee shops as they often didn't have decaf coffee. When he walked into the place around the corner from your office building, he asked the woman behind the corner if you had been in yet. Saying no and noting how odd it was, Jeonghan seized the opportuntiy. He asked for your usual order and requested a winky face drawn on it.

"Are you her boyfriend? She's mentioned there's a guy she's interested in at her place of work."

That's all the encouragement Jeonghan needed to go through with his plan. He shook his head but smiled at the barista. "No, not yet. I'm hoping this catches her attention."

And by the looks of your blushing face, he was close to winning you over. He always gets what he wants, and he certainly had his eyes locked on you.

[onedumbho3]

Ur Dumb Hoes’ SVT FIC REC PT.2

Guide: Not Titled (N/T)

MORE RECS

Headcannons/Reactions

Seventeen and touch-starved s/o hu vu by @wqnwoos

Saying Something They Didn’t Mean in a Fight hu vu pu by @babyleostuff

How I think (specific members) react when you reach your climax by @luvelve

them accidentally ditching you on your bday (hu pt2) vu pu by @hannieehaee

N/T & N/T by @sluttyminghao

Seventeen as Displays of affection by @mangocustard16

Ot13/Poly

Sweet Nights by @wifeyoozi

N/T by @nonranghaes

Eggs, Bacons & Sausage Sandwich by @bitchlessdino

S.Coups

White t-shirt by @seungkw1

Caught in a Trap by @cheolism

We got Married! By @yvesette

Takes Two to Tango by  @gyuwoncheol

Jeonghan

08:25pm & “Pretty” by @wheeboo

Comfortable by @watanabebad

Rain and Kisses by @babyleostuff

Mr.styles by deactivated @/yveaart (if they have another account let me know so I can tag them)

N/T by @wonuvs / @c-oupsie

N/T by @hoshifighting

[7:45 pm] by @miupow

Joshua

 Distracted by @eomayas

Always for you (my heart beats) by @dokries

Junhui

warm junhui & N/T by @mountainficss

Gentle & Sound of the Season by @junkissed

Alt title: You are my Kingdom by @fairyhaos

N/T by @4kimji

virgin!jun x reader by @hoshifighting

Doctors Orders by @xuhuihuis

Shut Up by @onlymingyus

Hoshi

You. Always by @sailorrhansol

a tiger's dominion by @onlyseokmins

how to get rid of nightmares by @cheolism

Wonwoo

Badboy!Wonwoo pt.2 by @hannieehaee

1.36 am by @heennnngggggarae

17: "Enemies. Strictly enemies." by @twogyuu

Shy bf Wonwoo Head cannons by  @number1mingyustan

virgin!wonwoo x reader by @hoshifighting

Mafia boss! Wonwoo x reader headcanons by @dirtysvthoughts

No Rainbows by @rebeccarose0315

Woozi

Eyeliner 101 by @gorae

N/T by @brainddeadd

DK

[12:44] by @bbyobbyo

Angel Eyes by @monamipencil

N/T by @sluttywonwoo

7:20am by @addicsvt

Shut up (don’t) by @gyuswhore

[14:46] & [18:26] by @onlyseokmins

Mingyu

Pink Wrists by @gyuhao5

N/T by @seungcheorry

Overstimulation by @hoekyeom

N/T by @hannieehaee

N/T by @monamipencil

The8

Dancing in the Rain by @magisland

Museum Date by @sebastiannewai

I’ve got you by @xuhuihuis

N/T by @mountainficss

Virgin!minghao x reader by @hoshifighting

N/T by @hannieehaee

First Time by @ilwonuu

Seungkwan

N/T by @hoshifighting

first by @cheolism

N/T by @min4yu

Vernon

A Picture of You by @definitely-nota-fangirl

“stay in character” by @idyllic-ghost

10:18pm | hansol vernon chwe by @wheeboo

Dino

N/T by @hannieehaee

Sub!Chan who’s only comfort id your tits by @monamipencil

[leclercvsx]

I miss your facts | TEXTING AU

LANDO NORRIS

pairings: lando x reader

summary: y/n and lando are bestfriends, y/n liking lando. She introduces him to one of her bestfriends, he forgets about her and only realises what he missed when it’s too late

warnings: mentions of suicide!

y/n <3

did you know that some sharks can’t stop swimming otherwise they’ll die?

Lan <3

that’s useful, thanks

y/n <3

EXACTLY! i knew i was needed

Lan <3

you’re always needed

11:23am | thursday

y/n <3

i miss you, can you come over after training?

Lan <3

i will, might be a little while though

y/n <3

don’t take tooo long

14:56pm | Tuesday

y/n <3

did you know that there’s over 500 different species of sharks?

Lan <3

i didn’t know that, no. cool

y/n <3

OH ALSO

there’s a new girl at my work, she’s super nice

you should come meet her!

Lan <3

i might

10:35am | Saturday

Lan <3

you were right, Taylor is actually really nice

y/n <3

SEE? I TOLD YOU

me and her are gonna hang out on tuesday if you wanna come

Lan <3

sure

16:45pm | Wednesday

y/n <3

australia is wider than the moon

you should tell Oscar that

Lan <3

Taylor told me that

y/n <3

oh really? wow she really knows her facts!

Lan <3

yeah, she’s pretty smart

18:18pm | Saturday

y/n <3

do you wanna hang out?

i’m bored

Lan <3

i’m with Taylor rn

y/n <3

oh, nevermind then😊

12:25pm | Sunday

y/n <3

human teeth are the only body part that cannot heal themselves

Lan <3

i know, Taylor told me

y/n <3

it’s illegal to own just ONE guinea pig in switzerland

Lan <3

Taylor’s from Switzerland, she told me

17:34pm | Tuesday

y/n <3

the heart of the shrimp is located in the head!

Lan <3

the shrimps heart is located in the head

y/n <3

haha, we said the same thing!!

Lan <3

Taylor told me the fact, haha

y/n <3

ohh

9:27am | Thursday

y/n <3

do you have time? i really wanna talk about something

Lan <3

i’m with Taylor right now, but what’s up?

y/n <3

oh okay, nevermind then :)

17:26pm | Monday

Lan <3

octopuses are so weird, they’re cool looking though

y/n <3

i thought you hated octopuses?

Lan <3

i did before.

but Taylor told me some cool facts about them

y/n <3

i did that with sharks🙃

14:27pm | Friday

y/n <3

you’ve been hanging out with Taylor a lot

Lan <3

anything wrong?

y/n <3

nothings wrong, i just miss you

Lan <3

i’m not leaving you though.

y/n <3

no, i know

13:45pm | Wednesday

y/n <3

hiiii! do you wanna hang out?

hello?

read

16:56pm | Wednesday

Lan <3

sorry i was hanging out with Taylor

y/n <3

i know.

Lan <3

why are you mad?

y/n <3

i’m not?

Lan <3

why is it so wrong that i’m hanging out with her?

18:34pm | Sunday

y/n <3

you’re forgetting me.

lando

i’m not though?

hello?

answer me.

i’m not forgetting you.

14:30pm | Wednesday

y/n <3

you’re all i have, had.

lando

why are you using dots? don’t scare me

y/n <3

is Taylor all you needed?

lando

stop.

17:25pm | Tuesday

y/n <3

i’m sorry

lando

for what?

stop leaving me on read, please.

stop scaring me.

you’re not funny.

18:45pm | Thursday

lando

i miss you

i was dumb

i’m really sorry

Venus is the only planet to spin clockwise

i really wanted to tell you, i miss your facts. i love you. i hope one day we meet again

you could’ve told me about Taylor. i reread our messages, i saw that you needed me

i’m sorry

12:34pm | Sunday

lando

you looked really pretty at your funeral today

i miss you

pez candles were made for you, so you could stop smoking

i could smell it on you before, now i miss it.

3:34am | Tuesday

lando

sharks skin feels like sandpaper.

7:17am | Wednesday

lando

sharks are one of the oldest living species on the earth.

but you knew that, right?

——————————

this made me sob writing it😭

ib: this tiktok

masterlist | request page

[moodient]

sev week: angst 1/7

tags: implied cheating, angst, tw// starvation(?), malnourished, tons of crying

a//n: so sorry, but i need the angst in my life right now- but the next one will be fluff or smut, who knows.

Out of Love

you and sevika's relationship was like a rubber band, its rough but stretchy texture held you two together but at any moment, it could snap quickly. one day it's an argument about seeing her hang out with another woman. another, it's work taking up all of her life and you're just about done with her.

don't get me wrong, you absolutely adore her but she never makes time for you.. never devoted herself to you.. never made time for you. you couldn't remember the last time she kissed your lips, the last time she held you in her arms, protecting you from the world, not even the last time you've heard her say i love you.

this has went on for months and months on end, and she has completely forgotten about you. your birthday, her birthday, your anniversary, all the big and small things that she used to remember is all gone. you can't even remember the last date you've both been on.

but today was the absolute worst, today was your 5th year anniversary, you even try to put yourself and planned a reservation to her favorite restaurant.

you looked at yourself in the mirror, you got your eyes suffered from too many nights of crying yourself to sleep, your body whimpers and groans, screaming at you for nourishment but you ignored it every time. you frown at yourself.. sad, disgusted.. disappointed in yourself but you've decided you want to do better for yourself with or without her. you went into the kitchen to make something that your stomach could take, maybe some fruit? You grab an apple and bite into the apple and the crunchy texture and sweet taste sends you over the moon, eating it almost animalistic. the juices all over your mouth and bits of apple on your cheeks. you even grabbed some water and downed it like it was a shot.

The bedroom door opened quickly and shut hard.. every day without fail, she kisses your head and completely walks past you, not even noticing your crumbled state. She walks towards the door opening it swiftly but before she leaves, you grab her sleeve.

"where.. are you going?" your voice silent but you're trying to at least say something. anything to make her speak to you.

"... work." she says, before yanking you off her sleeve and looking back at you but all she can see is your face being covered by your hair.

"don't.. forget today, i've made a reservation for us." you said, keeping your head down. she nods and slams the door shut.

you were going all out tonight especially for her, you set a hair appointment, bought a brand new dress and a pair of shoes and even, bought a lingerie set that she would love. at this time, it's around 6pm and the reservation is at 8pm, which gives you some time to do make-up or comfortably get ready.

you took a shower, put on your lingerie and dress, did your makeup and you took a final look in the mirror and you absolutely loved how you looked. checking the time one more time, 7:25pm.. perfect. you took your car to the restaurant and make it there before 8pm and now you wait..

and wait..

and wait..

waiters came to you asking, if you wanted something small to eat or at least but you insisted that she'll be here soon. you called her and messaged her and absolutely no answer.

the restaurant is now completely empty besides the waiters and chefs and you. it's now 10pm and the restaurant was soon to close so instead of making it their problem, you left a tip and left out. your heart ached with pain and if you didn't run to your car, you would've broke down at the restaurant.

your makeup ran down your face, head aching from all of the crying and you couldn't take it anymore. you laid back in your car seat and just sat there.. your mental was fucked, you were physically exhausted and your lover couldn't even give a fuck to show up.

you drove home, completely silent.. no radio, no one on the phone.. just you, yourself.. and your thoughts. you didn't really know what to think, or really how to think, were you really shocked that she didn't come or did you just let your delusions fuel you? whatever the case may be, you believed her and she left you down completely.

...

"sevika?"

"sevika, are you home?"

you opened your bedroom door to see the lights dimmed, her sleeping body rising and falling, but there's something beside her, is that.. your eyes widened and your tears fell.. you couldn't make a sound and quickly packed a bag with tears and soft whimpers coming from your mouth, you left a note, and ran out the house completely crying.

you spent the night at a hotel room and try to think of excuses for her.. maybe that's a friend, or a family member.. but she was topless, and so was her "friend".. fuck, what did you do to deserve this? how could she do this to you.. if this was a sick twisted dream, you wanted... needed to wake up.. please, wake up.. but it was real.

[exopelagic]

girl help I just wanna read pokemon fic but I have to do a mock exam :(

help I just wanna play splatoon but I have to revise :(

[samoankpoper21]

MTL to date a plus size person - Shiratorizawa Academy

A/N: This is a REPOST!! I didn't like how the first one came out so I decided to revamp, rewrite, and edit, edit, edit this post. Took me forever but we finally made it y'all 🥲 Again these are based off of my opinion/what my gut fupa tells me 🤣 I am also writing from a chubby!/plus size! POC reader POV. All of them are aged up/of legal consenting age. Also in celebration of the fact that the Haikyuu! movie hit theaters in the USA yesterday!! Enjoy~!!

Content Warnings: some cursing, suggestive smut, fat shaming if you squint really hard, small mention of someone attempting to unalive themselves

Ushijima Wakatoshi: I don't know why but I FEEL IN MY GUT that this mans loves him some THIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIQQQQQQQQQQ women. He's a big boi so he loves him a thiccccc partner. He loves squeezing your love handles and playing with your thighs, it's his stress reliever. The softness of your skin when he kneads it with his rough, course hands instantly relaxes him. You got cellulite? He doesn't care. Got stretch marks? Baby he'll kiss and trace 'em. Fupa? UGH HE LOVES THE PUDGE. One thing he cannot stand is how sometimes you let society's beauty standards dictate whether he should be with you, he finds it frustrating how you get lost in your head and start comparing yourself to the women you see via ig. He's always encouraged you letting you know IF your weight really bothered you then he would continue to support you by being your gym partner. Regardless please let this man continue to support you physically and emotionally because he will. The sound of the TV only served as background noise, Wakatoshi's head nestled on your tummy as your left fingers ran through his hair, your right hand holding your phone. You were scrolling through instagram a flurry of women similar in age popping up on your feed toting their tiny waist, wide hips, huge tits, and even bigger ass. Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! It was Wakatoshi's dm's going off. Staring in amusement at his sleeping form you chuckled. How could he sleep through all of that? Switching into his account you figured maybe it was Tendou sending him pictures from Paris. He had tons of unopened messages from women, his requests way past 50+. The most recent sender caught your eye, your eyebrow arching up, a slight frown forming. It was from a former classmate named Hana, your memories of her unpleasant. Regardless of the fact that she knew you and Wakatoshi were together in high school she still tried to get him alone, persuading him how much of a better partner she would be instead of you. Back then Wakatoshi just ignored her blatantly telling her, "I'm with Y/N." You clicked on her profile silently gasping; you hated to admit it but she looked amazing, her pictures garnering thousands of likes and comments. Most of her profile were pics of her showing of her "natural body" from working out, the men in her comments thirsty. You tried to switch back to your account but the phone slipped causing you to quickly catch it before it hit your face. Letting out a sigh of relief you glanced at your screen semi panicked, you had just opened Hana's message. >>Wakatoshiiiiiiiii (7:35:06PM) >>Wakatoshi heeeeeeeyyyyy (7:35:10PM) >>I'm talking to you (7:35:20PM) >>I know you see my messages Toshi-kun (7:35:40PM) >>Wow you're really going to ignore me? (7:36PM) >>You're really going to ignore me for that fat bitch 🤣 (7:36:15PM) >>She doesn't' deserve you (7:36:25PM) >>You deserve to be with a REAL woman (7:36:40PM) >>Sends tit pic (7:37PM) >>Like what you see baby? (7:37:20PM) >>Let me take care of you like a real woman should (7:37:35PM)

Love? you hadn't realized Wakatoshi stir in his sleep. "O-oh Ushijima." He frowned at the use of his family name, noticing you averting his gaze. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to it's just your notifications kept going off like crazy and I thought it was Tendou sending you something-" Wakatoshi gently peeled the phone away from your hand peering at the screen, his frown deepening. He sighed typing out his reply: 'Hana, I do not appreciate you sending me such pictures and calling the love of my life, my wife, 'fat'. I suggest you take anti-harassment classes or cyber bullying classes. Don't ever reach out to me again. P.S. A real woman knows that she doesn't always have to resort to using her body to get a man." After he sent that to her, he blocked her, closed his eyes, and deeply sighed. "Ushijima, are you...are you mad at me?"

"I can never be mad at you love. Frustrated, yes. You aren't calling me by my first name or the other names you call me."

"O-oh." you nervously chuckled. He sat up pulling you against him so that you were straddling him, his hard cock pressing into your clothed pussy causing you to gasp. His hands were softly running up and down your thighs, he leaning forward so that your foreheads touched. "Y/N," his gruff baritone voice called out. "I only have eyes for you. I just wish you saw yourself the way I see you."

"I do baby! It's just that sometimes," he shifted his hips causing a delicious friction taking your breath away making it hard to concentrate. "I-I get discouraged when I see -ngh- pics like that." He was kissing the sensitive spot on your neck that he knew would make you weak, submit to his desires. His right hand was squeezing and kneading your thigh, the left gripping your ass. "You are all I need. Rolls and all. I wouldn't have it any other way." Chuckling you kissed the tip of his nose, Wakatoshi's hips never faltering in the way it rolled against your aroused cunt. "I love you Toshi." "I love you too."

Tendo Satori: There's something aesthetically pleasing when you see a big girl/guy with a skinny/lean/muscular partner 😊 It just works okay? Again I feel it in my gut that this man LOOOOOOOOOOOOVVVVEEESSS THIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIQQQQQQQ WOMEN 😊 He's had to learn/adapt on his own to ignore the scrutinizing, judgmental stares due to him being a monster he has a monster cock there's no persuading me of otherwise so when he meets you being confident in your skin and owning the fact that yes you are "fat" he can't help but fall for you. ⚠️UNINTENTIONAL MANGA SPOILER⚠️ Satori becomes a chocolatier in Paris. When it comes to sex he's mid key heavy on the food play: he loves drizzling chocolate, white chocolate, whipped cream, or caramel on his partner's thighs, tits, and tummy; loves watching you squirm as you watch him slowly lick all the sticky, sweet ingredients off his favorite meal. "Ma chérie," he purred. "I made a new recipe and would love for you to try it."

"Of course love. You know I can never resist your chocolates. What's the occasion?"

"Valentine's Day is around the corner and the baker wanted me to create a small chocolate snack with a...punch." Punch? Knowing Satori he wouldn't outright tell you what that 'punch' was. "I hope you're not trying to kill me this time love."

"Never that ma douce," He kissed the top of your head as he set a saucer of small, dainty, assorted chocolate squares in front of you. "Enjoy." He smirked. Taking the milk chocolate you popped it into your mouth savoring the sweetness as it melted; you popped a dark chocolate square moaning as the sweet, strawberry jelly like custard gushed into your mouth. "Mmmmmmm mon bébé these are sooooooo goooood."

"Careful now love," He cooed with his back turned to you. "Those are aphrodisiacs." You nearly spit out the third piece you were on. Fuck it. "Is it working?" He asked shyly. You couldn't deny the embarrassing amount of wetness that was gathering in between your legs, your body heat rapidly rising. "Love?" Your quietness caused him to worry, turning around to find that you were no longer sitting at the table, your shared bedroom door slightly open. "Love?" Poking his head inside slightly he smirked to find you panting, lying on the bed naked with your legs spread, your sweet essence already dripping on the sheets. "Oh lo lo lo, so it works hmm?"

"If you don't shut up and fuck me right now Tori."

"Of course mon petit monstre."

Semi Eita: I'm not gon lie I kept overlooking this man but my gut kept going back to him. I am convinced that this man likes his women chubby 😊 Random but I saw this youtube short where they were simping over Semi's hands and I have not been the same since 🤣 His aloof nature allows him to tell people off when they disrespect you or if he feels that you are uncomfortable; however his aloofness is also his downfall sometimes 😅

Admittedly you didn't have the typical build of a body guard, standing at 5', 2" weighing at 250 pounds the academy doubted you: how can this fat chick be able to protect someone? Will she be able to withstand and withhold big crowds? You proved that despite your short height and heavy build you were strong, resilient; the academy calling you Little Ox. The academy had assigned you and 2 other male guards, Yuuji and Rito, to assist a famous band, the lead singer scoffing at you. "This puny thing is supposed to keep the crazy fans away?"

"Don't doubt her Kaku-san" your teammate Yuuji defended. "She has skill and talent, made it fair and square like the rest of us."

"Tch. Just make sure she doesn't get lost in the sea of fans." Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you took note of the shaved headed drummer named Namio, the long haired bassist Kouki and the stoic, handsome, guitarist Semi with headphones around his neck.

As the band made their way through the airport from South Korea, fans immediately swarmed towards them pushing and shoving trying to get through. One intimidating look from you and an extension of your arm caused the fans to slow down, Kaku's eyebrow raised. Yuuji flanking from the back smirked at Kaku's reaction. That reaction was short lived as you noticed an individual moving at an intense speed towards the group from your direction. "Little ox!" Yuuji yelled. Everything happened in a blur: you hit the assailant's forearm knocking the knife out of their grasp, pulled them towards you, threw them over you shoulder slamming their body down, your knee to their back twisting their arm pinning it. Everything went quiet except for the assailant's labored breathing. "Let me go! Let me go!" he screamed.

"Y-N chan! Are you ok?" Rito asked.

"I'm fine. Oi!" you gently slapped the side of the assailant's head. "I'm giving you one minute to explain yourself. After the minute is up I will break your arm."

"I'm not talking to you! You just got lucky to catch me!" Your hold on his arm tightened and twisted further as you continued to count down. "59...58...57...56...55..." the assailant screamed, cursing at how you're hurting him.

"L-let him go." Kaku pleaded. Kaku shivered at the cold, distant expression you gave him. "45...44...43...42...41...40..." She truly is a monster Kaku thought to himself.

"29...28...27...26...25"

"Aaaaaaaaaaagggghhhhh! This is all Kaku's fault!"

"Oh?"

"Ever since that stupid guy announced he was dating that celebrity my sister has been so depressed! Are you really okay with one of your fans dying?!"

"Oi, did Kaku-san hold a gun to your sister's head and tell her to die? You think hurting this man will help your sister? She needs professional help. You're just trying to find someone else to blame because you don't want to help. Stop living like this." The man broke down sobbing, you sighing. "Rito -."

"Security's beside you Little Ox." Turning slightly you nodded your head easing off of the sobbing man, grateful that Rito, a man of few words, was always a step ahead.

"Y-Y/N-san-" Kaku began."

"Please refrain from intervening. That'll make my and your job easier. You asked whether I was able to protect you guys, withstand a crowd? This is enough proof right?"

"Y-yes."

"Rito! Yuuji!"

"Yes!"

"Let's continue shall we?" the walk to the van was quiet, Semi taking note of your full figure: your blazer a bit tight around your middle section, the way your love handles poked out, your ass sticking out of your black slacks. He sensed the dominant aura emanating from you the moment he laid eyes on you but found it thrilling to experience how much of a hold you had over your teammates. Semi isn't one to be submissive but he knew you could be submissive and that made the blood rush to his cock. He couldn't help as his imagination ran wild: you laying on his bed panting in all your naked glory, your tummy scrunching up, begging him to fuck you; Semi's long, thick, calloused fingers from years of playing guitar thrusting into your glistening cunt; Semi grabbing your hips slowly thrusting into you from behind as you pleaded with him to fuck you faster, harder. He needed release.

As the weeks went by Semi would observe you silently: admiring the way you carried yourself, how analytical and precise you were when it came to ensuring the venue they were performing at was safe and that no one could get through. He found himself drawn to you, falling for you. One day before a music show performance Semi found that his feelings for you were overflowing, bubbling over; that if he didn't express how he felt then and now he would go insane. Pulling you to the nearest staircase he trapped you between his arms, your eyebrow arching. "Mr. Semi, why are you trapping me in between your arms like so?"

"If I don't do this now I know I'll regret it for the rest of my life."

"What are you-"

"I like you." You could feel your face heating up as a million thoughts swept through your mind: was I that obvious? Did he catch on? I thought I was being careful with my facial expressions? Did I stare at him too long? His thumb swiped at your cheek bringing you out of your reverie. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" Biting your lip, tears threatening to spill over, fists clenched, you answered. "Semi-san, if you're only teasing me then I suggest you stop. This is going too far."

"I'm not." He firmly set. Looking up you saw the unwavering emotion in his eyes. You still couldn't believe that Semi had feelings for you, he never showed the slightest bit of interest; always politely saying good morning and making sure to let you pass first, you getting a whiff of his cologne. "But I'm..." you carefully whispered.

"Huh?"

"I'm bigger than you."

"So?"

"You don't mind?"

"I could care less if you're bigger than me. I fell for you not your body." Letting a moment of silence pass he asked, "Wait...do you not like me back?"

"No, no I'm sorry. I do. I like you. A lot."

Reon Ohira: Much like Semi Semi I struggled (I wasn't trying to be biased what with the community/culture I grew up around). He's literally the fine, thin line holding one from crossing into the least likely to date a plus sized individual - it may be because the anime doesn't really focus on him 🥲 or the fact that I don't know much about him 🥲😅 If I'm wrong please tell me 😅 In regards to Reon it's a loud, low hum when it comes to him; like I feel that he would appreciate the fluffiness of a plus sized individual. He's known to be the person to calm the team down/center them so I can imagine that his partner would be a little feisty in comparison to him.

Standing in line for a funnel cake you and your husband Reon Ohira were merely enjoying each other's company, conversation ebbing and flowing smoothly. Standing on your tiptoes you pouted. "Babeeee," you whined. "What's taking so long?"

"Well hunn we're at a carnival. There's bound to be a long line for sweets." He pecked your forehead and continued to stare ahead. Taking this time your eyes slowly swept over his features: prominent brows, sharp nose, pointed ears, tanned skin, the veins snaking down his forearm, the intricate design of it on his hands always turned you on. You were about to stand on your tiptoes again to whisper something raunchy until a hard bump against your shoulder caused you to stumble. Turning quickly to catch the offender you yell out, "Hey!" Ohira, arms snaking around your plump waist already trying to steer you in, calm you down. The man turned around to stare at you blankly, phone in hand. "Maybe you should get off your phone while walking."

"Sorry. Must'n have seen ya."

"How the hell you miss my big ass?"

"Babe," Ohira hissed. The man smirked and agreed. "You're right, how could've I missed someone taking up so much space?" Ohira lengthened to full height booming, "I don't appreciate you talking to my wife like that. I understand that you have your own preferences but disrespecting my wife is unacceptable." The murmurings of the crowd caused the man to feel uncomfortable, his face turning beet red. "Tch." He swiveled around and stomped off. "Are you okay love?"

"You know I coulda handled it."

"Absolutely not. Someone disrespects you they're disrespecting me."

"Okay daddy." You smirked knowing the effect that word alone had on him. Feigning innocence you snaked your arms around Ohira's waist, making sure to press your boobs against the lower part of his chest tightly so that it would push up against him, looking up at him with doe eyes. He groaned when he saw how big your eyes were. "Behave bunny." he warned.

"What are you talking about? I am behaving." You pressed yourself tighter to him pouting, making sure to "adjust" your chest, Ohira's grip on your waist tightening. "Do I need to fuck that attitude out of you bunny? Smirking you answered with, "After we get that damn funnel cake."