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hii ᨦ ദㅤ ۪ㅤ۫ i’m alive lol, i know i have been totally out this place but lately i haven't had time to write, i have some fics ready to post but i just have been sooo unmotivated, i miss you all but i still don't feel well to keep writing!!

and i def want to rewrite all my stories already published, but as you know english is not my first language so i need to have a lot of time and attention . ׁ ✉️ ࣪ 𓈒 .ᐟ i hope to come back soon, love yall ୨ৎ ࣪ . ׅ

#tbp x reader

i didnt know the good girl fic would blow up STOP

#finney blake x reader

good girl.

finney blake.

angel’s note

ㅤㅤㅤ𓏲ׄ hii i’m alive, miss you all !! lmk if you like this ୧ . ˚ ₓ

꩜ sexual content, p in v sex, choking.

You were lying on your sides, facing each other, catching your breath after another intense round, his bare chest fell slowly, and his fingers caressed your waist. You bit your lower lip, hesitating, Finney noticed, his gaze trailing up from your shoulder to your face. He brushed away a thick strand of your hair that was plastered to your damp cheek, tucking it behind your ear with a gentleness that contrasted with his strength.

— You tensed up. — he whispered, his voice still hoarse, he propped himself up on his elbow, hovering over you.

You swallowed hard, your heart starting to beat faster, a mix of fear of rejection and pure adrenaline.

— I was thinking... — you began, your voice faltering a little, your eyes searching his, looking for any sign of judgment. — About... other things, things i wanted to try.

Finney raised an eyebrow, a slow, wicked smile forming on his lips.

— Other things? — he slid his hand from your waist to your stomach, his warm fingers sending shivers down your spine. — You know you can ask me anything, what you want?

— I want you to squeeze my neck. — the confession came out in a rushed whisper, you took a deep breath, shame tried to silence you, but the desire was stronger. — When we're... you know, i want you to choke me, Finn.

Finney's hand stopped immediately, the smile vanished from his face, replaced by an expression of pure surprise. He blinked, processing your words, he was possessive, rough sometimes, and loved to dominate you, but he was also incredibly protective.

— You want me to... choke you? — he repeated, his voice heavy with a sudden tension, his gaze dropped straight to the delicate line of your throat.

— Yes… — you confirmed, gaining a little more courage seeing that he hadn't recoiled in disgust. — I want to feel your hand here — you touched your own neck with your fingertips. — I want to feel that you have total control, and that i can't even breathe without your permission.

A guttural sound escaped Finney's throat, his initial shock was swallowed by a wave of arousal so violent that his entire body seemed to tense up. He crawled over you, his knees pinning your hips to the mattress as he positioned himself between your legs.

— Are you sure? — he asked, his face inches from yours. — Because if i put my hand there, i’m going to like it.

— I'm sure. — you whispered, spreading your legs a little wider to accommodate his weight, feeling him harden against you.

Finney didn't hesitate, he raised his right hand, his warm palm settling over your throat, his long fingers wrapping around your neck, his thumb resting right over your racing pulse.

— Like this? — he asked, applying the lightest of pressure.

— More. — you gasped, your eyes fixed on his, shining with a trust that drove him crazy.

Finney's jaw clenched, he squeezed, it wasn't a grip meant to hurt, but a grip of possession. The firm pressure slightly cut off your airway, making your next breath come out ragged and short. An instant wave of heat shot straight down to your lower belly and the sensation of being completely at his mercy, restrained by the strength of that hand, multiplied your sensitivity a thousandfold.

You threw your head back on the pillow, a strangled moan escaping your parted lips.

— Fuck... — Finney cursed upon seeing your reaction.

With his left hand, he guided his hips, entering you with a deep, dry thrust. A scream were about to let out but it was muffled by his hand on your neck. Instead of a loud sound, what came out was a vibrating, stifled moan that he felt against his own palm. You opened your eyes, blinking against the dizzy sensation, and focused on his face. Finney began to move inside you in a brutal, steady rhythm, while his hand maintained the exact pressure on your throat.

— Who owns your breath now? — he whispered, releasing the pressure for a second to let you draw in air, only to squeeze again as he sank into you.

— You... — you managed to choke out, digging your nails into his wrists, not for him to stop, but to anchor yourself. — It’s yours.

— Good girl...

His other hand buried into your hair, pulling slightly to keep your neck stretched and exposed. The pleasure of not having enough oxygen made each of his thrusts feel like an electric shock. You couldn't focus on anything but the pressure on your neck, his relentless invasion, and the brown eyes devouring you.

When the orgasm hit you, it came with the force of an explosion. Your entire body arched upward, your thigh muscles trembling violently as you contracted around him. Finney let go of your neck and the ajr rushed into your lungs all at once, mixing with the climax that made you see stars, you gasped loudly, coughing lightly, your chest heaving frantically.

Finney reached his own limit seconds later, sinking into you one last time with a ragged grunt, emptying himself inside you as his body shook with exhaustion. He collapsed on top of you, supporting his weight on his elbows so he wouldn't crush you. He was panting, his face buried in the curve of your newly freed neck, he kissed the reddened skin where his hand had been, soft, wet, and desperate kisses of apology.

— You okay? — he asked, his voice trembling, lifting his head to check your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. — Did it hurt?

You drew in a breath, feeling your blood circulate normally again, your whole body still vibrating with the most intense afterglow you'd ever had. You smiled, raising your hand to mess up his sweaty hair.

— I've never been better. — you murmured, pulling his face down for a slow, deep kiss that tasted of sweat and absolute surrender.

That morning, you woke up slowly, emerging from the deep sleep that only absolute physical exhaustion can bring, you felt a comforting weight thrown over your waist, pinning you against him. You stretched lightly, feeling every muscle in your body softly protest, a delicious reminder of the night before. Your hair was spread across his pillow, a dark, chaotic waterfall that contrasted with the light fabric and the pale skin of Finney's shoulder.

Slowly opening your brown eyes, you met his gaze.

Finney was already awake, he was lying on his side, his head propped on his hand, just watching you sleep. His face was relaxed, his messy brown hair falling over his forehead, and his dark eyes overflowed with a tenderness so raw it made your heart skip a beat.

— Morning. — he whispered, his voice still thick and slurred with sleep.

— Morning. — you murmured back, your voice muffled by the pillow. You snuggled closer, brushing your nose against his neck. — How long have you been awake staring at me? That's kind creepy.

Finney laughed softly, the sound vibrating against your body.

— Long enough to make sure you weren't going to disappear. — he replied, his teasing tone hiding a very real vulnerability. — And i’m not creepy, i’m just enjoying the view, it’s not every day i wake up with an angel in my bed, a slightly corrupted angel, but still...

— Shut up. — you lightly patted his chest, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Finney's gaze dropped from your face to your neck. In the clear light of day, the reddish bruises from last night were perfectly visible against your skin. He touched the marks with his fingertips, a touch so light it felt like a feather, his eyes overflowing with care.

— Does it still hurt? — he asked quietly, his forehead creased in concern.

You shook your head, covering his hand with yours, intertwining your fingers and bringing it up to kiss his calloused knuckles.

— It doesn't hurt, Finn, it just... tingles a little, but i like it, remember that i’m yours.

His expression softened completely, Finn sighed, pulling you into a tight hug, burying his face in the top of your head. You could feel the calm, rhythmic beating of his heart against your chest.

— I love you so much. — he confessed against your strands, the words coming easily, as if they were the only absolute truth in his world. — You're the best thing that ever happened to me.

— I love you too. — you replied, tightening your arms around his torso, closing your eyes and absorbing that moment of peace.

The comfortable silence was broken by the sound of something dropping downstairs, followed by a muffled curse in Gwen's voice and the unmistakable smell of fried bacon and strong coffee rising through the cracks in the floorboards. Finney groaned, throwing his head back on the pillow and squeezing his eyes shut.

— Gwen is destroying the kitchen again.

You laughed, resting your chin on his chest to look at the indignant face he was making.

— We should go down and help her, did your dad leave already?

— It's Saturday morning, if he's not yelling, it's because he passed out on the living room couch or hasn't come back from the bar yet, which means the house is ours. — Finney explained, but made no move to get up. Instead, he locked his legs around yours, a heavy, warm anchor. — But Gwen can deal with the pans, i’m not going anywhere.

— Finn, we're starving. — you protested, even though your body made no effort to leave the bed.

— I can think of other things to eat right now. — he teased, his wicked smile slowly returning. He slid his hand down your bare spine, stopping at the base of your waist and pulling you further up until your faces were level.

Before you could scold him, he stole a long, deep kiss, with an intimacy you'd never had with anyone else. When he pulled away, you were smiling against his lips.

— Ten minutes. — you gave in, caressing his face. — We stay here for ten more minutes, and then we go down to save breakfast.

#finney blake x reader #miguel mora x reader #the black phone 2 #finney blake #the black phone #ernesto arellano #finney blake fanfic #tbp x reader #the black phone x reader #the black phone fanfic

ADDICTED TO YOU.

mason thames.

what happens when two people struggling with addiction found each other?

angel’s note.

welcome to chapter two of addicted to you :) enjoy. <3

꩜ mention of drugs use, mental illness, mental health, sex and sensitive content.

chapter one.

Mason felt the room spun in a slow, nauseating orbit, the crystal chandelier above looked like a star on the verge of supernova, its light fracturing into a thousand shards in his blurred vision. In his right hand, a heavy crystal glass with two fingers of aged whiskey tilted precariously. He downed the rest of the liquid, feeling the burn sear his throat, trying to stifle the panic clawing at his chest. Then came the unmistakable sound echoing down the hallway. Not on the door, but on the floor, heels striking the solid wood with the precision of a stopwatch.

Helena Thames entered the room, she stood in the doorway and wore a Hermès dress clung to her body like a metallic skin, a white fur coat resting upon her shoulders. Her eyes, blue but sharp, swept the room, Mason had a glass in his hand, a slumped posture and the scent of alcohol and chemicals emanating from him.

Without a word, she stopped in front of him, with cold, ring-laden fingers, she gripped Mason’s chin firmly, forcing his face toward the light, Helena examined his dilated pupils almost in a clinic way.

— What have you done? — she hissed, her voice was low making Mason recoile from her touch with a jolt, standing up from the bed. — You’re pathetic. — Helena said, her voice was dripping with disgust. — Hundreds of guests downstairs, your father is waiting! And here you are, destroying yourself, about to ruin the only night that matters. Do you have no respect for this family’s image? For the name you carry?

Something inside him snapped.

— FUCK YOU! — he screamed, his hoarse voice tearing through his throat.

He hurled the crystal glass against the opposite wall. It shattered violently, spraying shards and amber stains across the imported wallpaper, but Helena didn’t even blink.

— Enough with the dinners! Enough with the faking, mom! — Mason kicked the bed frame, welcoming the sharp pain in his foot. He reached for his neck and ripped apart the perfect knot of his bowtie, tugging at it as if it were strangling him. — I’m not the perfect son you want so badly! I’m sorry if i’m so fucking broken!

He stopped, panting, his chest heaving unevenly, tears began to track down his cheeks. Helena watched him in silence for a long heartbeat, her expression was unreadable.

— You are not my son, Mason. — she said.

She took a step forward, and for one stupid millisecond, Mason lowered his guard. A broken part of him thought she was going to clean him up or hold him. Her hand collided with his face with shocking force, the sound of the strike echoed through the silent room. Mason’s head snapped to the side from the impact, his skin stinging where her rings had scraped him.

— You are an addicted. — she spat the word. — A filthy addict who can’t even stand on his own two feet.

Mason brought a trembling hand to his face, covering the red mark beginning to bloom. He couldn't hold it back anymore, a sob escaped him. He curled inward, suddenly looking much smaller than his eighteen years. She sighed, a sound of pure impatience, she reached up to her own hair, tucking a blonde stray back into place from the exertion of the slap. Helena glanced at her hand, checking if she’d chipped a nail, and then turned toward the door. Then, walked away, the click of her heels now sounding like abandonment, before leaving, she paused, without looking back.

— I miss my little boy. — she said, her voice suddenly soft, laden with theatrical sorrow. — The one who loved me, not this... thing you’ve become.

— I’m sorry, mom. — he choked out, Mason reached a hand toward her, his fingers shaking. — I’m... i’m sorry! Alright? I don’t want to be like this, i want to stop, i want to be clean... Mom, please i need help, your help! Please, just help me.

He was unraveling in front of her, his face wet with tears, waiting for any shred of humanity, a hug, a touch, a single word of comfort to pull him back from the edge. Helena looked down at him, her expression cold and stagnant, she adjusted the fur on her shoulder, eyes showing nothing but boredom.

— Mase… do whatever you want. — she said, her voice was devoid of any maternal instinct. — If you want to kill yourself by hitting the car in a pole, go ahead, just… don’t embarrass me.

Mason’s words echoed in your mind long after he left, “wish for it to be bearable”, you clung to that while trying to sleep in that strange bed, on sheets that smelled like industrial detergent. Your sleep was choppy, filled with anxious dreams of running through endless hallways. Morning arrived not with the sun, but with a nurse flipping on the harsh white lights at 7:00 AM sharp.

— Medication time, girls! — her voice was way too perky for that hour.

Maddy was already awake, sitting on her bed in a lotus position, staring at the wall. She looked pale, but she gave you a weak smile as you dragged yourself out from under the covers.

— Breakfast is the worst part. — she warned as you walked in line to the nursing station to swallow your morning pills. — But at least there’s cereal.

When you got to the cafeteria, Mason’s prophecy was fulfilled with precision, before you even grabbed a tray, you heard the sound of plastic slamming against a table. In their usual corner, Miguel was standing up, gesturing furiously at a kitchen worker who seemed completely immune to his screams.

— This is decaf! Again! — Miguel growled, his hands shaking slightly. — Are you guys trying to kill me? I need caffeine, not this brown dishwater!

Mason was sitting right behind him, calmly buttering a piece of toast as if his best friend’s freak-out was just background music. He saw you and Maddy approaching and raised his toast in a silent toast, sporting that trademark smirk.

— Told ya. — he mouthed as you got close.

Maddy rushed to Miguel’s side, placing a hand gently on his arm.

— Miggy, chill! Breathe, if you keep screaming, they’re gonna take away your rec points again.

Miguel jerked away from her touch, running a hand through his dark hair and taking a deep breath, his chest heaving. He looked like a caged animal, his dark eyes locked onto yours. For a second, you thought he’d snap at you too, but he just huffed, defeated, and flopped into the chair next to Mason.

— Good morning to you too, Miguel. — you said, sitting down with your tray, surprising yourself with the boldness.

Maybe it was the mood stabilizers the nurse gave you, Miguel stared at you, narrowing his eyes. The nervous tic in his leg was making the whole table vibrate.

— Don’t start, newbie. — he grumbled, but he grabbed a milk carton and ripped it open with his teeth. — You look like a zombie, sleep like crap?

— Hard to sleep with Leah crying next door and... unexpected visitors. — you replied, shooting a quick glance at Mason, making him let out a low laugh, biting into his toast.

— I’m like the rehab tooth fairy. — he joked, wiping a crumb from the corner of his mouth. — I only show up at night and leave wisdom instead of cash.

Miguel looked from Mason to you, eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

— He went to your room? — Miguel asked, his voice dropping dangerously low. He turned to Mason, kicking his friend’s shin under the table. — Are you an idiot? If David catches you in the girls' wing, they’ll send you to the ISO clinic! And i’m not staying here alone listening to Leah talk about her imaginary ex-boyfriend.

— Relax. — Mason rolled his eyes, but you noticed a spark of affection in the way he looked at his grumpy friend. — Nobody saw me, and she needed a proper welcome.

— You guys are crazy. — you muttered, poking at the grey paste that was supposed to be oatmeal.

— We are. — Maddy agreed cheerfully, sitting down with a tray that held only an apple and a glass of water. — That’s why we’re here.

The vibe at the table turned strangely light for a moment. Despite Miguel’s rage, Mason’s arrogance, and Maddy’s fragility, there was a camaraderie there. A silent acceptance that everyone was broken, and they didn't have to pretend otherwise.

Suddenly, Miguel stopped shaking his leg, he fixed his gaze on something behind you, at the cafeteria entrance.

— Shit. — he whispered. — Here comes the bitch.

You turned to look, a tall woman, dressed in an impeccable suit and heels walked into the cafeteria. She was looking straight at your table, or rather, at Mason. His smile vanished instantly, his relaxed posture disappeared, and he went rigid in his chair.

— My mom. — Mason said. — Surprise visit day.

The air in the cafeteria seemed to drop ten degrees as she approached. She was flawless, a white blazer, perfectly brushed blonde hair, and a permanent expression of disdain. She stopped by the table, completely ignoring Maddy, Miguel, and you.

— Mason.

Mason didn’t stand up, he kept chewing his toast, but you noticed his jaw was locked tight. He swallowed slowly before looking up at her, putting on that mocking smile he used as armor.

— Hey, Mom, come to see if i’ve learned macramé or if i’m miraculously cured yet?

— I don’t have time for your childish sarcasm today. — she replied, checking a slim gold watch on her wrist. — The family lawyer is outside, we have papers to sign regarding the car incident, get up, now.

Miguel, whose leg was shaking furiously, let out a scoffing noise.

— He’s eating breakfast, can’t it wait five minutes? — Miguel snapped, glaring at the woman with an old, deep-seated hatred.

Mason’s mother slowly turned her face toward Miguel, looking at him like he was a smudge on her shoe.

— Nobody spoke to you, Miguel, stay out of this before i call your grandparents and tell them about the burner phone you hid last month.

Miguel shut his mouth, fists clenched on the table, his face turning red with bottled-up rage, the tic in his eye visibly worsened, Mason sighed, a heavy, exhausted sound.

— Chill, Miguel. — Mason murmured, patting his friend’s shoulder before standing up. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets, looking suddenly smaller in front of that woman.

He didn't look at you or Maddy, he just followed his mother out of the cafeteria, walking a step behind her like a prisoner being escorted. As soon as they disappeared through the double doors, Miguel exploded, he slammed the table hard, making the trays jump and spilling some of Maddy’s water.

— Bitch! — he hissed through his teeth, rubbing his face hard. — I hate that woman, i swear, if i wasn’t sober, I’d...

— Hey, hey, hey. — Maddy grabbed a napkin and started cleaning the spill, trying to de-escalate. — Breathe, Miggy, count to ten, you know how she is, Mason knows how to handle her.

— He doesn't know how to handle her, Maddy! — Miguel shot back. — She acts like he’s some problem, not a son, the only reason he’s even in here is because she doesn’t want the press to know her 'golden boy' overdosed at the company gala.

You felt a chill run down your spine. Overdose.

— What was the 'car incident'? — you asked quietly, Miguel let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

— That’s how he ended up back here this time, he wrapped his dad’s car around a pole, he was high on everything you can imagine. — Miguel rubbed his eyes, looking exhausted. — His mom only cares about the repair bill and the lawsuit, she hasn’t asked him once if he’s okay.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table, suddenly, the noisy cafeteria felt lonely without Mason’s magnetic presence.

— Is he gonna be okay? — you asked, surprised by the concern in your own voice.

Miguel looked at you, his nervous tic slowing down as his anger gave way to a resigned sadness.

— He always comes back. — Miguel said, staring at the door. — The problem is how he comes back, usually, after she visits... he’s either unbearable, or self-destructive.

The rest of the day dragged as if time itself was hungover, Mason’s absence left a weird vacuum in the group, filled only by Miguel’s palpable anxiety. He couldn’t sit still for a single second, he bit his nails until they bled, fought with a nurse over the TV schedule, and paced in circles in the courtyard during free time.

Maddy tried to distract him with cards, but gave up after he threw the deck on the table for the third time, muttering curses in Spanish. Night fell, bringing that muffled silence characteristic of clinics, you were in the common room, a space with worn-out couches and a TV locked inside an acrylic box. Miguel was perched on the arm of the sofa, his leg bouncing at a frantic pace. You were trying to read a book you found on the shelf, but you’d been rereading the same sentence for ten minutes.

Soon, the door opened and Mason walked in, his shoulders were hunched, his face was pale, and his eyes were red, not from crying, but from exhaustion. He’d ditched his hoodie and was just in a wrinkled white t-shirt, gripping his black jacket so tight in his hand it looked like he wanted to strangle it.

— Well? — Miguel jumped off the sofa immediately, his voice tense. — What did the bitch want? Did she make you sign that bullshit liability waiver?

Mason didn’t stop walking, he passed right by Miguel, heading toward the dark window.

— She paid off the lawyer, Miguel, the case was dropped. — Mason’s voice was cold, cutting. — Money in the bank, problem solved.

— And you? — Miguel insisted, following him. — What did she say to you?

Mason spun around abruptly, the explosion Miguel had predicted finally happening.

— She said i’m a high-risk investment! — Mason yelled, making Maddy jump on the sofa and causing a few others in the room to look over, spooked. — That if i trash the family image one more time, she’s cutting the trust fund and letting me rot in the gutter, satisfied? Is that what you wanted to hear?

Miguel flinched, hurt but not surprised, he held his hands up in surrender.

— I’m just worried about you, man.

— Well, don’t be. — Mason snapped, rubbing his face hard. He looked ready to either collapse or punch the wall. — I don’t need a babysitter, Miguel, i’ve already got enough therapists in here.

He walked away from his friend and slumped onto the vacant spot on the sofa next to you. The impact made you shudder, Mason sank into the cushions, throwing his head back and closing his eyes.

The silence in the room was heavy, Miguel stood in the middle of the rug for a moment, jaw clenched, before turning his back and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him, Maddy, with an apologetic look at you, ran after him.

You were left alone with Mason and a few other patients pretending to watch TV so they didn't have to acknowledge the scene. You thought about leaving too, giving him space, but something about the way his hand was shaking slightly where it rested on his knee made you stay.

— You were right. — you said softly, without taking your eyes off your closed book.

Mason didn’t open his eyes. — About what? That the food here sucks?

— That nobody on the outside gets it. — you replied. — She made you feel like trash, didn't she?

Mason let out a humorless laugh, opening one eye to look at you. That defiant glint was back, but it looked fragile now, like glass about to shatter.

— She’s efficient, doesn’t waste time on feelings, she fixes things, and i... — he pointed to himself with disdain. — I’m the broken thing that’s expensive to fix.

He turned on his side on the sofa to face you, invading your space again, but this time he seemed to be searching for something in you.

— You know what i want right now? — he whispered, his voice husky, his eyes dropping to your mouth for a brief second before snapping back to your eyes. — I want to get out of here, jump that ridiculous wall, steal the gardener’s car, and drive until the tank is empty.

He tilted his head, his brown hair falling over his forehead.

— Would you come with me? If i asked right now... would you come?

You looked into his eyes, searching for the joke, but you only found raw desperation. The idea of running, of feeling the wind on your face and leaving this place behind was tempting, a flame igniting in your chest. But then you looked at your own shaking hands on the book, you knew how that story ended.

— No. — you whispered, your voice steady despite the ache in your heart. — I can’t, we’d end up dead or arrested before sunrise.

Mason’s face closed off, the vulnerability evaporated, replaced by a cold, indifferent mask. He let out a sharp nasal laugh, looking up at the ceiling.

— I knew. — he muttered. — Everyone has to stay, that’s what they say.

He didn’t say anything else, the silence between you became a chasm. He moved to the other side of the sofa, creating a physical distance that screamed rejection. Right then, the night nurse, a stout woman with a permanent scowl, walked in clapping her hands.

— Alright, wrap it up! — her voice echoed irritably. — Show’s over, everyone to your rooms, lights out in fifteen minutes. Mason, bed. Now.

Mason snapped, it was fast and violent. He vaulted up, kicking the coffee table with enough force to send the heavy wood screeching across the floor.

— I’m not a goddamn child! — he roared, his voice cracking. — Stop giving me orders!

The nurse didn’t flinch, she grabbed the radio on her belt.

— Code Grey in the common room.

— I’m not going to my room! — Mason screamed, grabbing a pillow and hurlin it against the wall, knocking down a frame with some stupid motivational quote, glass shattered on the floor. — I want you all to go to fucking hell!

Two nurses appeared almost instantly, they didn't hesitate, they lunged for Mason, who tried to push them off.

— Get off me! Don’t touch me! — he bellowed, face flushed, veins popping in his neck.

You shrank back into the sofa, hugging your knees, watching in horror. They pinned Mason’s arms, immobilizing him with a trained, painful-looking technique.

— Come on, kid, don’t make it worse.— one of them grunted, dragging him toward the door.

Mason stopped fighting for a second, his feet dragging across the carpet. He looked back at you, his eyes were wide, glistening with tears of fury and humiliation. And then, he vanished down the hall, his shouts echoing until they were muffled by a heavy door slamming shut.

The middle of the night at the rehab center was dead silent, save for the hum of the AC. Maddy was fast asleep, the soft sound of her breathing filling the space. But you couldn't sleep, the image of Mason being dragged away wouldn't leave your head, the look in his eyes, the loneliness.

You checked the digital clock, 2:15 AM.

With your heart in your throat, you slid out of bed, the cold floor made your bare feet tingle, you opened the bedroom door with millimeter-precision, praying the hinges wouldn't squeak. The hallway was dim, lit only by the green glow of emergency lights, and the nursing station was empty, the night nurse must have been on a break or doing rounds upstairs.

You knew which one was Mason’s room, you’d seen Miguel go in there earlier. At the end of the hall, you tiptoed, holding your breath with every step and when you reached door, you turned the knob slowly.

You stepped inside and shut the door behind you, leaning against the wood to catch your breath, Mason wasn't in bed, he was sitting on the floor in the far corner, back against the wall and knees bent. He was still in the same clothes, now wrinkled, his hands were laced behind his head, chin down.

Hearing the click of the door, he whipped his head up, on alert. When he saw it was you, the tension in his shoulders relaxed, but only a little.

— Are you crazy? — his voice came out raspy and dragged out, like he’d screamed until he lost it. — If someone catches you here, you’re screwed.

— I don’t care. — you whispered, taking an uncertain step toward him.

Mason watched you in the dark, he looked wrecked, defeated.

— Come to see the monster in the cage? — he asked, a bitter, weak smile trying to form but failing miserably.

— No. — you said, sitting on the floor at a safe distance, but close enough so he’d know he wasn’t alone. — I came to see if you still wanted to run away, or if we could just... sit here and hate everything together.

Mason let out a sharp breath, letting his head fall back against the wall. He turned his face to you, and the moonlight caught the dry trail of a tear he hadn’t had time to wipe away.

— I hate this place. — he confessed, his voice breaking. — But i hate my head more.

He uncrossed his legs and reached a hand out toward you, palm up, a silent invitation like a plea for peace.

— Sit here. — he asked quietly. — The floor is freezing.

You hesitated for a fraction of a second, your survival instinct screaming that getting close to this emotional hurricane was dangerous. But his gaze, so stripped of that usual arrogance, so raw, won. You slid across the floor until your shoulder brushed his, the contact was electric. Even through the thick fabric of your hoodie, you could feel the tension radiating from him like an overheated engine.

— You’re stubborn, huh? — he murmured, his raspy voice vibrating against your arm. — Most people run the other way when someone starts breaking things.

— Most people in here have broken something at some point. — you answered softly, looking at your own hands on your knees. — Glass, promises, their own lives... i’m no different.

Mason let out a long shaky sigh, he turned his head slightly, and you felt his gaze burning into the side of your face.

— My mom... — he started, stopping as if the word tasted like vinegar. — She looks at me like i’m a failed project, something she invested a lot of money in and didn't get a return on, you know what it’s like to feel like you’re just a math error in someone’s spreadsheet?

— I know what it’s like to feel like a problem that needs to be solved. — you admitted. — My mom didn’t even look at me when she dropped me off, she just wanted to ditch the guilt.

— Two throwaways, then.

He moved his hand slowly, fingers brushing the floor until they found yours. The touch was hesitant at first, just fingertips meeting, testing the waters. When you didn’t pull back, he interlaced his fingers with yours, his hand was warm, and steady, a stark contrast to the cold room.

— Miguel says i’m self-destructive. — Mason whispered, squeezing your hand lightly as if he needed to anchor himself to something real. — He’s right, when i feel like i’m losing control... I just want to floor it and crash already, to get the waiting over with.

— Is that why you wanted to run today? — you asked.

— Yeah. — he leaned his head against the wall again, closing his eyes, but without letting go of your hand. — But i think... sitting here on the cold floor with you... is better than crashing the car, at least for tonight.

The silence that followed wasn't heavy anymore, it was comfortable, almost intimate. You heard distant sound of footsteps in the hall that you both hold your breath for a moment, shoulders tensing in unison. When the footsteps faded, Mason exhaled and laughed softly, a breathy sound.

— We’re gonna get in so much trouble. — he said, opening his eyes and staring at you with that intensity that made your stomach flip. — Are you sure you want to stay near me? I’m a mess.

You looked at your joined hands, at his silhouette against the moonlight, you knew he was trouble, but for the first time in months, you didn't feel invisible.

— I’m already in hell, Mason. — you replied, squeezing his hand back. — At least now i have company.

Mason watched you for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face. Then, he leaned in slowly and rested his forehead against your shoulder, the weight of his head was comforting, a silent surrender.

#finney blake x reader #miguel mora x reader #the black phone 2 #finney blake #the black phone #ernesto arellano #finney blake fanfic #tbp x reader #the black phone x reader #the black phone fanfic #mason thames #mason thames x reader #mason thames fanfic

ADDICTED TO YOU.

mason thames.

what happens when two people struggling with addiction found each other?

angel’s note

hi! :) i just wanted to apologize for disappearing, i’ve been in a very bad mental state, but, you’ve to know that i didn't abandon this profile, angel didn't die!!! i have so many fics ready to post but i just got very discouraged, anyway, enjoy this 𝜗𝜚

so i got this idea when i saw Mason’s new character, i have some chapters for this ready so lmk if you like it. ִ ּ ۪ 𓏲 also reader’s face are just for aesthetics !! <3

↺ sensitive content, mention of drugs use, mental illness and sex.

chapter two.

— Mason isn’t just an addict, he’s tired, his problem with substances is just the way he found to try and turn out the lights before pulling the trigger for good.

She turned to you, and the concern in her eyes was genuine.

— The kiss yesterday... I saw it on your face earlier, but you need to understand that, for Mason, love and pain are the same thing. Miguel is scared because he’s seen Mason latch onto people before sinking, he doesn’t want you to be the next anchor he drags down to the bottom.

— I’m not an anchor. — you protested, the tears finally spilling over. — I just didn’t want him to be alone.

— Sometimes, people like Mason make us feel like the only person in the world. — Maddy said softly, placing her hand on your shoulder. — But don’t forget that you are here to heal, too. Don’t let him become your new drug.

The sound of the door slamming still rang in your ears. Even hours after the fight, it felt like more than just your mom screaming, it was the breaking point. She was sobbing, you were shouting, and the substances clouding your brain made everything feel like some twisted, cruel movie. Now, the silence of the car was even worse, when the car pulled up in front of the light-brick building, surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens, you felt a knot tighten in your stomach. The Recovery Center looked like a fancy hotel, but the disguised bars on the windows told the real story.

— It’s better this way. — your mom whispered, not looking at you, as you got out with your small suitcase.

You didn’t answer, you just pulled your hoodie up to hide your face and walked inside.

The first few hours were a blur of forms, bag searches, and invasive questions. You walked down the hallways with your head down, trying to blend into the beige walls, avoiding eye contact with the people your defensive brain labeled as lunatics.

— Oh, thank God! Someone who doesn’t look like my grandma’s age!

You looked up, sitting on one of the beds, legs crossed and flipping through an old fashion magazine, was a girl. She was pale, with deep dark circles that forbidden makeup couldn't quite hide, and dangerously thin.

— I’m Madeleine! But everyone calls me Maddy. — she smiled, a genuine smile that actually brightened the lifeless room. — Eating disorder and rage issues, nice to meet ya! You? What brings you to paradise?

Her bluntness caught you off guard. Maddy was intense, talkative, and strangely, she made you feel less alone. She helped you unpack, and within thirty minutes, she’d already given you the tea on half the floor.

— C’mon, i will show you our little zoo! — she said, hooking her arm through yours and pulling you into the hallway.

The zoo was the common area, Maddy pointed people out discreetly, narrating their lives like a TV host. But you stopped listening when your eyes scanned the corner of the room, near the window facing the inner courtyard. One of the guys was wearing an oversized black hoodie, the hood partially covering his messy brown hair. He was laughing at something, a laugh that seemed easy, charming. Even from a distance, and even in this depressing place, he had a magnetism that made you stop in your tracks.

— Who’s that? — you asked, cutting off Maddy’s monologue about the nurse. Maddy followed your gaze and sighed, a half-smile on her lips.

— That’s Mason. — she dropped her voice like she was sharing a secret. — Hot, right? But he’s a regular, been in and out of here like three times this year alone, he charms everyone, you know? But he’s got demons that just won't let go.

You kept watching, Mason looked relaxed, spinning a ring on his finger while talking to the guy next to him.

— And the other one? — you nodded toward the guy sitting beside him.

Unlike Mason’s relaxed vibe, this guy looked like a guitar string stretched until it was about to snap. His leg was bouncing frantically under the table, and he was blinking hard, a visible nervous tic. Maddy squeezed your arm slightly, her face flushing.

— That’s Miguel, he’s tough, explosive temper, short fuse... he’s always picking fights with the therapists. — she bit her lip, looking at him with obvious adoration. — But he’s got something, you know? An intensity... i’m kinda obsessed with him, if you couldn't tell.

Right then, Mason looked toward the door, his eyes met yours from across the cafeteria. His smile faltered for a second, turning into an expression of pure curiosity. He nudged Miguel, who stopped shaking his leg and lifted a sharp gaze in your direction.

— I think we’ve been spotted! — Maddy whispered, straightening her posture.

You felt an impulse to back away, to turn around and run back to your room, but Maddy already had her arm hooked in yours with iron determination.

— Let’s go. — she whispered, pulling you before you could protest. — Miguel actually looked over here! That’s a rare event, like a solar eclipse! I’m not wasting it.

With every step, Mason became clearer. Up close, he was even better looking, in an almost painful way. There was something broken about him, something in those brown eyes that seemed to reflect the same void you felt in your chest. When you stopped in front of the table, the smell of cheap coffee and disinfectant felt stronger.

— Hey, boys! — Maddy said, trying to play it cool.

Miguel didn’t even look up. He was too busy tearing a napkin into tiny shreds, his fingers moving with frantic speed. But Mason raised his head, a crooked smirk forming on his lips, he leaned back in the rigid plastic chair with a relaxed arrogance.

— Maddy. — he greeted, his voice raspy. Then, his eyes drifted to you. they traveled over your face, stopping at your eyes, which were still puffy from crying. — And who’s the new member of our vacation club?

You felt your face heat up, the way he looked at you wasn't judgmental, it was recognition. Like he knew exactly what was running through your veins or how much you missed it right now.

— She’s my roommate! — Maddy answered quickly, giving you a little nudge.

— I’m... — you started, but your voice cracked. You cleared your throat, trying to get it together. — I just got here.

Mason let out a low, almost humorless laugh.

— No kidding! You still have that 'get me out of here' glow in your eyes. — he tapped the empty chair next to him. — Relax, the first week is hell, the second is purgatory, and by the third, you start thinking the food is gourmet.

Miguel scoffed, finally stopping his shredding. He looked up, and you saw the irritation sparking there.

— Stop trying to scare the girl, Mason, and stop hitting on her, it’s pathetic. — Miguel grumbled, his voice rough, he glanced at Maddy for a split second, long enough to make her catch her breath, before staring back at the table.

— Miguel is a ray of sunshine, as you can see. — Mason winked at you, completely ignoring his friend. — Sit down.

You hesitated, but your legs were shaky. You pulled out the chair and sat, facing Miguel and right next to Mason, being so close to him was jarring, he smelled like mint soap and a hidden cigarette.

— What’s your drug of choice? — Mason asked bluntly, leaning his chin on his hand as he analyzed you.

— Mason! — Maddy scolded, sitting next to Miguel and trying to start a conversation with him. — You don't just ask that out of the blue.

— Oxy. — you murmured, feeling the need to be honest for the first time all day. Maybe because, in here, lying was pointless. — Anything to make the noise in my head stop.

Mason’s smile vanished for an instant, replaced by a serious, dark expression. He nodded slowly, like he understood that deep down. Beside him, Miguel’s tics stopped for a second, he looked at you sideways with cautious curiosity, like you’d just passed some invisible test.

— Welcome to Greenwood. — Mason said softly, leaning a bit closer, invading your personal space in a way that made your stomach flip, not from sickness, but from anxiety.

The grey carpet in the group therapy room had stains that you tried to turn into drawings so you wouldn't have to look at the faces around you. There were ten chairs arranged in an imperfect circle under the buzzing white light of fluorescent bulbs that made everyone look sick. In the center, a therapist with way too much optimism named David tried to mediate the chaos.

— Alright, everyone. — David said, tapping his pen on his clipboard. — Let’s start with how we’re feeling today! No filters, but keep it respectful.

A loud snort came from your left, it was Miguel, he was hunched over in his chair, elbows on his knees, bouncing his leg so fast it made the floor vibrate.

— Respectful? — Miguel let out a dry, nervous laugh, running a hand through his dark hair. — Hard to be respectful when i haven’t slept in three nights.

— Want to share why, Miguel? — David asked patiently.

Miguel cracked his neck and shot a death stare at a girl across the circle. It was Leah, she wore a pastel pink cardigan and looked like she was about to crumble at any second.

— The reason is that the Princess of Tears over there doesn’t have a volume button. — Miguel pointed at her, pissed off. — Seriously, Leah? Do you have to sob that loud at 3:00 AM? The walls here are cardboard, for fuck's sake! I hear every sniffle! You sound like a dying animal.

Leah’s eyes widened, already tearing up, and she crossed her arms defensively.

— I’m going through a hard time, you jerk! — she snapped back, her voice trembling. — My boyfriend dumped me via letter while i was in intake!

— And my liver almost shut down, but you don't see me screaming in the hallway. — Miguel countered acidly. — Buy a pillow and muffle the sound, or i swear i’m gonna…

— Okay, okay! — David interrupted, putting his hands up. — Miguel, validate Leah’s pain, but focus on your reaction. Leah, try to be mindful of the shared space.

Mason, who was slumped in his chair next to Miguel like he was watching a boring movie, let out a low chuckle.

— Honestly, Miguel has a point. — Mason said, spinning that silver ring, a habit you’d already picked up on. — Last night, i thought it was a fire alarm, i almost ran down the hall in my boxers.

A few people laughed. Leah turned bright red with rage and threw a crumpled paper ball at Mason, which he dodged without even moving.

— Shut up, Mason. — Leah grumbled. — At least i don’t try to seduce the nurses to get nicotine gum.

— It was just an exchange of favors. — Mason winked, a smirk playing on his lips.

The session went on like that, barbs flying, traumas exposed like war trophies, and a constant tension in the air. Maddy talked about how she hid food in her hoodie pocket at dinner, laughing like it was a joke, though no one else found it funny. When it was your turn, the silence felt heavy, every eye turned to you. Mason watched you with that curious intensity, Miguel looked bored, and Leah was still wiping away tears.

— I... — your voice came out raspy and you cleared your throat. — I’m new here, i don’t have anything to say.

— Come on, honey, everyone’s got a sob story. — Maddy added.

— I just... i just want my head to stop spinning, that’s it.

David nodded, seemingly accepting that this was the most he’d get out of you on day one. When the session finally ended, you were the first one up, boltin out of the room before anyone could drag you into more socializing. The hallway was quiet, you walked fast to your room, grateful Maddy stayed behind to talk to someone. You went in, shut the door, and flopped onto your bed, staring at the white ceiling. The emotional exhaustion was worse than the physical kind, you closed your eyes for a second, soaking in the peace, until a sound at the door made you jump.

— Knock, knock.

You sat up abruptly, heart racing. Mason was standing in the open doorway, he was still in the black hoodie, hands in his pockets, wearing that smile that seemed to hide a thousand problems.

— What are you doing here? — you whispered, glancing at the hallway to see if anyone saw. — Guys aren't allowed in here! If you get caught...

— If, if, if... — Mason ignored your warning completely.

He walked into the room with an annoying calmness and made his way to your bed. The mattress dipped as he sat on the edge, near your feet.

— Mason, seriously. — you insisted, though you didn’t move away. — I don’t want trouble.

He shrugged, turning his face to look at you. His brown eyes glittered with a dangerous kind of fun.

— You looked like you were gonna explode in that room, came to check if you were gonna jump out the window. — he leaned toward you slightly, bracing his hands on the mattress, invading your space without asking. — So? the plan is run away, or stay and watch the world burn with us?

You pulled your knees to your chest, hugging your legs as if trying to build a physical barrier, or maybe just to stop yourself from shaking. The fear of a nurse showing up and catching a guy in your room made your stomach turn, but the exhaustion weighed much more than the fear.

— I don't want trouble, Mason, i told you. — you whispered, your voice weak. — I don't want to be part of this, i don't want to jump out the window, and i don't want to get kicked out.

You looked away from him, staring at your own pale hands gripping your sweatpants.

— I just... — your throat tightened, and you had to swallow the sob threatening to rise. — I just want it all to stop, the noise in my head, the cravings, the feeling that i’m dying inside... i just want it to end.

The silence that followed was heavy, but not uncomfortable. For the first time, Mason didn’t have a quick comeback or a joke ready. He stopped bouncing his leg, and the arrogant smirk completely vanished. He watched you for a long moment, his dark brown eyes scanning your face with a seriousness that made you feel exposed, like he could read every broken thought in your mind.

— 'End' is a strong word. — he said, his voice suddenly low and soft.

Mason leaned in a little further, making the mattress creak. He reached out, hesitating for a millisecond, before lightly touching your shoulder. His touch was warm, steady, and sent a shock through you that had nothing to do with withdrawal.

— The problem is, when it 'ends,' there’s nothing left. — he continued, slowly pulling his hand back but keeping his eyes locked on yours. — And we’re here because, deep down, we want to feel something other than pain, right?

You looked up at him, surprised by the shift in his tone.

— You think being here, locked up with strangers, is living? — you bit back bitterly.

Mason sighed, running a hand through his messy hair.

— No, but out there... — he nodded toward the closed window. — Out there, nobody gets us, they look at us like we're broken shit nobody wants to sweep up. In here? At least we know everyone else is just as fucked up.

He stood up from the bed with the same agility he’d used to come in, shoving his hands back into his hoodie pockets.

— Don’t wish for it to end, wish for it to be bearable, that’s the best we get for now. — he walked to the door, stopping at the frame and checking both ways to see if the coast was clear. Before leaving, he looked back over his shoulder, a half-smile returning. — Try to sleep, Miguel’s gonna be in a mood tomorrow because we ran out of coffee, you won't want to miss that.

BETTER?

finney blake.

angel’s note

hii! i know you guys noticed i’ve been a little disappeared last days, but with christmas and new years it was hard for me to stay on my phone and write since i've been working and my family's around. ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𓂃 ֗ ִ but i’m alive!

enjoy 𝜗𝜚

making out, drugs use, p in v sex, explicit content.

THE CABIN door slammed with such force that the wooden structure shuddered, but the noise was almost swallowed by the howling wind outside. Finney walked in, kicking the snow off his boots violently, his jaw clenched and his eyes avoiding yours.

— Don't fucking turn your back on me when i’m talking to you! — you screamed, the frustration that had been building up during the entire trip finally exploding. — We came here to try to get better, Finney! For you to try to get better, but it feels like i’m here alone!

He stopped in the middle of the room, his shoulders were tense under his heavy coat. When he turned around, his expression wasn’t one of anger, but of exhaustion.

— And who said i can get better? — he shot back. — You think bringing us to the middle of nowhere, playing house in the snow, is going to erase what’s in my head?

— I'm trying to help you! — you retorted, feeling the tears burning your eyes. — I'm trying to reach you, but you’ve built this... this wall! You act like i’m invisible, like i’m a nuisance for wanting you to feel something other than fear!

Finney let out a bitter laugh, completely devoid of humor. He ran his hands through his hair, pulling at the strands hard.

— I don't feel anything, okay? Is that what you want to hear? — He took a step toward you, his dark eyes flashing with an ancient pain. — I look at you and i try, i swear to God i try, but there’s static in my head all the time! I’m broken, fuck! And you stand there, pressuring me to be the normal boyfriend!

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating; his words hung in the freezing air of the cabin like toxic smoke. You took a step back, hurt by the brutality of his confession.

— I never asked you to be normal. — you said, your voice trembling, lowering your tone. — I just asked you to let me in! But if you want to be alone, Finney... if you want to sink into this darkness so badly, then why are you still with me?

The question hit the mark, Finney's mask of anger faltered. He opened his mouth to answer, maybe to tell you to leave, maybe to end it all right there, but his voice failed him. He looked at you, seeing the damage his distance was causing to the only person who had stayed by his side. Finney leaned his back against the wooden wall and slid down to the floor, burying his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking.

— I don't know how to stop. — he whispered, his voice muffled. — I don't want you to go, i just... i don't know how to leave this behind.

You stood there for a long moment, your heart racing from the adrenaline of the fight. The anger began to dissolve, giving way to a deep sadness. The snowstorm outside was getting worse, isolating you from the world, you walked over to his backpack, thrown in a corner, and took out the small jar and the papers you had brought. It was the only thing that could lower his defenses now, the only possible truce for this war.

— Get up. — you said, dryly, but without aggression.

Finney lifted his face, his eyes red. You sat on the mattress on the floor, starting to roll the joint with hands still trembling from the argument.

— We’re not going to solve this by screaming,. — you murmured, flicking the lighter. — Let's just... stop, for a minute...

He watched you, defeated and crawled over to the mattress, sitting beside you but not touching you. There was still an abyss between you, created by the harsh words, but when you passed the joint to him, your fingers brushed against his.

Finney was sprawled on his back, his bare chest rising and falling slowly, his eyes glazed over from the high that made everything slower, more sensitive. You were nestled beside him, but your fingers wouldn't stay still, tracing the trail of hair that ran from his navel down under the blanket.

— Sometimes i think the feeling never goes away, that feeling of being alone. — his voice was a raspy drawl, clearly high. — Of being afraid.

You felt his abdominal muscles contract under your touch.

— You're not there anymore, Finn. — you whispered, moving your body up to hover over him, your nipples grazed his chest, provoking an immediate shiver. — I'm real, do you feel this?

You didn't wait for an answer, you trailed kisses down his neck, sucking on the sensitive skin, while your hand slid down beneath the covers. When your fingers wrapped around his cock, which was already waking up again, Finney let out a moan, his hips instinctively seeking your hand.

He was hard, hot, and pulsing in your palm.

— Make me feel real... — he implored, head thrown back, breath hitching.

You kicked the blanket away, letting the cold cabin air hit your sweaty skin, only to be forgotten by the heat of the contact. You positioned yourself over his hips, guiding him inside you, his head was foggy from the drugs, but his body responded with urgency.

When you sank down, the fit was deep. Finney gasped, his hands going straight to your waist, gripping the flesh tightly, his fingers sinking into your skin as he watched you swallow him completely. The sensation of fullness made you bite your lip to hold back a loud moan, everything was more sensitive.

— Shit… — he growled.

You began to move, slowly at first, grinding in circles, feeling every inch of him inside you, the delicious friction of swollen, sensitive parts rubbing together. The sound of skin slapping against skin began to fill the silence of the cabin, mixing with the panting breath of you both. Finney couldn't handle the slow pace for long, the need for relief and the intensity of the high took away his control. He bucked his hips upward, meeting your grinding with strong, uneven thrusts.

He opened his eyes, he grabbed one of your breasts, his thumb swiping hard over the rigid nipple, sending a wave of electric pleasure down your spine.

— I love you... fuck, i love you so much. — he shot out through gritted teeth, his face contorted with pleasure.

His rhythm became frantic, you were harding him harder, sweat running down your back, bodies sliding against each other. With every deep thrust, you felt like he was touching something vital inside you. When the climax approached, it wasn't gentle, it was almost an explosion, you felt your walls contract tightly around him, and that was the trigger. Finney arched his back, lifting off the mattress, burying his face between your breasts and letting out a muffled cry as he came undone inside you, pulsing violently.

You stayed joined for long seconds, trembling, feeling the final spasms of pleasure fade until only ragged breathing remained, you collapsed onto his chest, too weak to move. Finney wrapped his trembling arms around you, pulling the blanket back up to cover your sweaty bodies.

— Better? — you asked against the damp skin of his neck, feeling his heart still hammering against your chest.

Finney kissed the top of your head, his heavy eyes closing.

— Better. — he whispered.

#finney blake x reader #the black phone 2 #finney blake #miguel mora x reader #the black phone #ernesto arellano #finney blake fanfic #tbp x reader #the black phone x reader #the black phone fanfic

HARD LUNCH.

what happens when a bunch of rich kids get stuck in the middle of the ocean in italy?

angel’s note

someone sent me a request about this plot with Miguel, i’m currently writing but just wanted to post something to remember yall im alive

↺ comedy fic, short, making out, cursing and a LOT of drama.

YOU TOUGHT it was a brilliant idea when Miguel invited you to spend the weekend with his friends, the trip was simple, a weekend on a yacht in Italian waters. You packed your bags and took a private jet straight to Florence, when you landed, black vans with tinted windows whisked you away to the coast, where the yacht awaited.

On deck, you were greeted by the chaotic elite of Los Angeles. Mason and Mckenna were fighting about which bedroom had the best lighting for morning selfies. Leah, who you already knew, was accompanied by her best friend, Walker. The boy spent the entire time staring at a screen, muttering about algorithms and searching for the perfect angle for his next "Get Ready With Me" video.

When the night fell over, the group started drinking, the music was loud, vodka was premium, and common sense was nonexistent. But when Miguel was sensing the energy getting too frenetic, he gave you a discreet signal.

— Let’s get out of here — he whispered, taking your hand. — Before Mckenna starts crying because the Wi-Fi flickered.

You disembarked quietly and began to walk through the ancient cobblestone streets of Florence. Away from the chaos of the boat, the atmosphere shifted, the air was fresh, and the Arno River reflected the golden lights of the city, it was romantic, quiet, and perfect. Miguel pulled you into a dark corner near the Ponte Vecchio, he kissed you, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer.

— I could get used to this — he said against your lips, smiling.

You wouldn't have pulled apart if your phones hadn't vibrated in unison.

walker: SOS.

leah: WALKER IS IN THE WATER! HE TRIED TO PARKOUR OFF THE DECK AND MISSED THE JUMP BY TWO METERS.

mason: POLIZIA!!!

— I don't believe it — Miguel sighed, running a hand down his face. — We simply cannot have peace.

You ran back to the dock, the scene you found was impressive, to say the least. Walker was shivering, wrapped in a soaked Gucci towel, looking like a drowned rat and complaining that the saltwater was going to dry out his skin.

Two officers from the Italian Carabinieri, with impeccable uniforms and expressions of pure judgment, surrounded the boat. Mason, visibly altered by wine and panic, was gesticulating wildly.

— Guardate! Look at me! — Mason shouted, shoving his iPhone with max brightness into the officer’s face, the screen displayed his IMDb page. — Attore famoso! The Black Phone!

The older officer squinted, shining a flashlight on Mason's face, he looked at the photo on the phone, then at the boy sweating cold bullets, suddenly, a sneering smile appeared.

— Ah... si, si — the officer said, turning to his partner and pointing. — I know him, my daughter watches, it’s the ragazzo timido.

— Si! Talented boy! — Mason puffed out his chest, hope returning.

— No, no. — the officer corrected, waving a hand. — The boy who didn't want to do the nude scene, stunt double, used a double for the... ass! Senza coraggio.

— Excuse me?! — Mason's face was pink.

— My daughter said it was CGI — the officer continued, chatting with his colleague. — Computer butt.

— WHAT?! — Mason squeaked, offended to his very soul. — I’m a method actor! My art does not require gratuitous nudity! I demand to speak to my lawyer!

Before Mason could be arrested for contempt, Miguel intervened.

— Buonasera, signori — Miguel began with a charming smile and a relaxed posture, physically pulling Mason back by his shirt collar. — Scusa, my friend here... he’s a little dramatic! Artists, you know how it is. — Miguel pulled out the passports and, with impressive skill, began to negotiate. — Walker, the one over there shivering in the towel, will never try to use his Instagram verification badge as ID again.

— And — Miguel lowered his voice. — If you let this slide, Mr. Mason here guarantees VIP tickets to the exclusive premiere of How to Train Your Dragon! Including a Meet & Greet.

— I’m not doing tha… — Mason started to protest.

— Shut up — Miguel hissed through his teeth, not breaking his smile for the officers. — Or i’ll let them take you, and you can explain to your agent why you were arrested in Italy.

The officers' eyes lit up at the mention of VIP tickets, after a few minutes of rapid Italian conversation, handshakes, and promises of good behavior, the car drove away and silence reigned on the dock for three seconds.

— Babe, i was humiliated internationally. — Mason whispered, while receiving pats on the back from Mckenna.

— Let's go up — you said, pushing the group toward the yacht ramp. — Before Walker tries to jump again to get pity likes.

As you walked back to the boat, Miguel wrapped an arm around your shoulders, exhausted but laughing.

— Welcome to my world — he said, kissing the top of your head. — Where the money is unlimited, but the shame is free.

As soon as the police leave and the group enters the main cabin, the freezing air conditioning isn't enough to cool down the tempers. Leah starts pacing in circles, her hands shaking as she holds her phone.

— I’m going to end up on TMZ! I can feel it. — Her voice pitched up with the last words. — "Actress almost deported." Brands will cancel my contracts! Kylie Cosmetics is going to take me off the list for the new years trip!

Miguel, who was pouring a glass of sparkling water for you, slams the glass onto the table with excessive force.

— Can you just shut up, Leah? — he snaps, out of patience. — My God, you reek of desperation! It’s so... middle class of you.

— What? — Leah freezes.

— Yeah! Middle class. — Miguel continues, relentless, adjusting the collar of his linen shirt. — Your parents don't even have a house in the Hamptons! It’s obvious you don't have the repertoire to handle real scandals, you’re acting like a scared nouveau riche.

From the sofa, Walker releases a dense cloud of pink smoke smelling of tutti-frutti. He is sprawled out like a starfish, holding his neon pink vape while watching his iPhone 17 sit in a Ziploc bag of rice.

— Facts — Walker agrees, his voice slurring. — It’s a very suburban vibe, Leah! Low frequency, yelling is for people who fly commercial.

Leah looks at Miguel, then at Walker.

— "Suburban"? — She lets out an incredulous, venomous laugh. — Listen here, you fucking nepo baby! You have the nerve to talk about me? Your content is ridiculous, Walker! Those videos of you bench pressing? Everyone knows the weights are Styrofoam! And your skincare routine? Horrifying, you spray hairspray on your face to look dewy.

Walker chokes on the smoke, coughing dramatically.

— Hey! — Mckenna jumps up, blocking Leah's view. — Don't talk to him like that! Walker is sensitive! He has body dysmorphia, and i have it too! We are victims of society's aesthetic pressure!

The room turns into a chicken coop of screaming about followers, aesthetic trauma, and shallow accusations. You feel a vein pulsing in your forehead, the noise, the ego, the lack of awareness... it was the last straw.

— SHUT UP! — you scream, the sound reverberating off the mahogany walls of the yacht. — I can't stand listening to your voices for five minutes! — you point a finger at Mckenna, who was still in her defensive pose. — And you, Mckenna... stop acting like the mother of the oppressed and start focusing on your own life! Your relationship is a joke!

— Excuse me? — Mckenna blinks.

— Mason cheated on you with his co-star from the new movie! — You drop the bomb, without mercy. — Yeah! Two weeks ago! Everyone knows but you!

Mason, who was trying to hide behind an ornamental plant, goes pale. Mckenna turns her neck slowly toward him, but the expression on her face isn't sadness, nor heartbreak. It is deep, aesthetic disgust.

— That girl? — Mckenna screams, her voice full of repulsion. — Mason! You cheated on me with her?! She was carrying a fake Birkin at the premiere! Fake, Mason! The leather was synthetic! You could see the crooked stitching from miles away.

— Babe, calm down... — Mason tries to stammer.

— Calm down?! I’m an It Girl! And you cheated on with someone who wears polyester! — she throws a cushion at his face. — Polyester, Mason! What a lack of class! If it were with Zendaya i’d understand, but with the fake bag girl?!

— Stop! Stop now! — Miguel shouts, trying to intervene before Mckenna starts breaking the expensive decor.

A metallic, deep, guttural noise comes from beneath the hull, followed by a jolt that knocks everyone off balance, the crystal glasses slide across the table and shatter on the floor.

— What was that? — Walker asks, clutching the vape to his chest.

Miguel runs to the panoramic window and looks out. His expression changes from irritation to pure terror. The lights of the Florence coast, which were close before, now seem to be moving away quickly, and the boat is rocking in a way it shouldn't.

— The anchor... — Miguel murmurs, turning to the group with wide eyes. — The anchor chain snapped!

— So what? — Leah asks, wiping away a tear of rage.

— So, the engines are off and the crew disembarked to sleep in the city because Mason was rude to the captain! — Miguel runs to the control panel, pressing buttons that don't respond. — We are adrift! We are being pulled into the open sea!

Outside, the darkness of the Mediterranean swallows the horizon. The luxury yacht is now just a piece of fiberglass floating aimlessly, carrying five rich kids, a pink vape, and no phone signal. The silence that follows Miguel's announcement is deafening, broken only by the sound of Walker's vape crackling.

— What do you mean "open sea"? — Leah asks, her voice trembling, but her phone still held up, recording unconsciously. — Like... international waters? Where pirates live?

— Pirates? — Walker screams, hiding the vape in the pocket of his towel. — I can't be kidnapped by pirates! I don't have the physical constitution for forced labor! My hands are soft, i use La Mer!

— No one is getting kidnapped by pirates, Walker! — Miguel growls, running a hand through his hair, ruining the perfect style. — The problem isn't pirates! The problem is that we are on a fifteen-million-dollar boat that just turned into a giant buoy.

The group runs to the command cabin, the dashboard is a Christmas tree of dead buttons and lights, everything seems to have died along with the anchor.

— Let me try — Mason pushes Miguel aside, taking the helm with drunken confidence. — I did prep for a Navy movie last year, i know how to start this! Just gotta find the ignition, where’s the key? Boats have keys, right?

— Mason, get away from there — Mckenna snaps, still holding the Fendi cushion like a shield. — You got fired from that movie because you couldn't tell starboard from port!

— It was a creative block! — Mason retorts, pressing random buttons, nothing happens, the boat continues to spin slowly in the darkness.

— Guys... — Walker whispers, staring at his phone with genuine horror. — My 4G dropped to 3G, and now... — he gulps. — No service… We're offline! It’s over.

— No signal? — Leah panics, tapping her phone. — I didn't post the fit check! It’s in drafts! If i die and the last thing on my feed is that political repost I didn't even read, i will haunt you guys forever!

Miguel ignores the collective collapse and grabs the communication radio.

— Mayday, Mayday! This is the yacht Il Destino, we are adrift southeast of... — he stops, looking at the darkness outside. — Somewhere near Italy! Anyone on the frequency?

You approach him, placing a hand on Miguel's tense shoulder. He turns, and for a second, the panic in his eyes softens when he sees you.

— I'm sorry — he whispers, low enough that only you hear over Mckenna's screams. — I planned a romantic weekend in Florence, not an episode of Naked and Afraid, nepo baby edition.

— Hey — you squeeze his shoulder, trying to stay calm, even though your heart is pounding. — At least we’re stuck on a luxury yacht and not a raft, we have champagne and... what's in the pantry?

— Caviar, truffles, and... i think that's it — Miguel grimaces. — The crew was going to restock the food tomorrow morning.

— Great… we will starve to death eating thousand-dollar fish eggs — you laugh nervously.

Meanwhile, the argument at the back of the room reaches new levels of absurdity.

— I don't care if we die at sea! — Mckenna is yelling at Mason again, totally ignoring the life-or-death situation. — What kills me is knowing you touched cheap plastic and then touched me! You contaminated me with poverty, Mason! I need a pink salt bath!

— It was a top-tier replica! — Mason argues, abandoning the useless helm. — The seller said it was vegan leather!

— Vegan leather is plastic, you idiot! — Leah and Mckenna shout in unison.

Walker slides down the wall to the floor, hugging his knees.

— Am i going to have to drink my own pee? — he asks the void. — But i had three Lychee Martinis... it’ll basically be a cocktail, right?

— Walker, shut up, for the love of God — you say, feeling a headache coming on.

Suddenly, the boat gives a violent lurch to the sid, the sound of glass breaking is heard in the kitchen.

— What was that?! — Leah screams, holding onto a leather armchair.

Miguel runs to the side window, the light of the full moon finally breaks through the clouds, illuminating the choppy sea. And there, less than fifty meters away, a dark, jagged shadow stands out against the water.

Rocks.

— Brace yourselves! — Miguel roars, running to protect you with his body. — We’re going to crash!

The impact throws all of you to the floor, the sound of fiberglass tearing against stone is horrible, like fingernails on a giant chalkboard. The yacht lists dangerously, red emergency lights begin to flash, transforming the cabin into a chic horror movie scene. Everything stops with a final bang, the boat is motionless but tilted at a bizarre thirty-degree angle.

— Everyone alive? — Miguel's voice sounds in the red darkness.

— My vape... — Walker whimpers from somewhere on the floor.

— I broke a nail — Mckenna announces. — The middle finger, this is a sign from the universe to tell Mason to fuck off!

You stand up, supported by Miguel.

— We’re grounded — Miguel says, looking through the broken window.

You look out, it’s not just a pile of rocks. It is a tiny, deserted, rocky islet in the middle of nowhere.

— Where are we? — Leah asks, crawling to the window.

— Tuscany, i think? — you murmur.

— Does this island have Wi-Fi? — Walker asks, hopeful. — Maybe there’s an all-inclusive resort hidden behind those rocks? Like a secret White Lotus?

Miguel sighs, his forehead resting against the glass.

— No, Walker. I think it’s just us, the rocks, and nature.

— Nature? — Mckenna gasps. — I’m allergic to nature!

— If we get out of this — Miguel whispers —, I promise our next date will be on my couch, watching Netflix, with zero risk of death or hearing Mason talk about method acting.

— Deal — you agree. — But first, we have to survive them.

Mason is trying to make a smoke signal with a linen napkin and a gold Dupont lighter, while Leah is touching up her lipstick in the emergency light "in case the rescue team is hot."

— It has been exactly two hours and twelve minutes since we were shipwrecked — Walker announces to the dark, his voice trembling. He is lying on the slanted floor of the yacht, using an empty Grey Goose bottle as a pillow. — My battery is at 4%, if i hit 1%, i go into human power-saving mode, i will shut down my brain.

— Your brain already lives on airplane mode, Walker — Leah retorts, sitting on the kitchen counter, trying to use the front camera flash to fix her makeup. — Does anyone know if waterproof mascara is also proof against tears of despair? Because i am crying on the inside, but my drip has to remain intact for the rescue.

— We need to ration supplies — Mason declares, emerging from the pantry with a one-kilo tin of Beluga caviar and a cake spatula. — I did the math, if everyone eats one teaspoon of roe every six hours, we can survive for... three days.

— Caviar? — Mckenna screams from the sofa, where she was trying to sleep in a position that wouldn't crease her silk dress. — Mason, caviar has too much sodium! I will retain water, if rescue comes and i’m bloated, i prefer to die here.

— It’s survival, Mckenna! — Mason bangs the spatula on the table. — It’s life or death! In the movie Cast Away, Tom Hanks wasn't worried about his water retention.

— Tom Hanks had a volleyball as a best friend, Mason, you have us. And honestly? The ball was nicer — you murmur, sitting on the floor next to Miguel, sharing a packet of chocolate truffles you found in your purse.

Miguel lets out a tired laugh, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you to his chest. His body heat is the only thing keeping you sane in the middle of this floating asylum.

— If we have to resort to cannibalism — Walker says suddenly, sitting up, the red light reflects off his vape, giving him a demonic look. — I vote we eat whoever has the fewest Instagram followers first, it’s digital natural selection…. It’s fair.

— Walker! — you and Miguel shout together.

— What? It’s market logic! — Walker defends himself. — I have 3 million, and i’m a valuable asset to society. Mckenna has the brand deals, and Mason... well, Mason is controversial, his meat probably tastes like red flag.

— I’m vegan! — Mckenna cries. — You can't eat me, i’m organic!

— No one is eating anyone! — Miguel says firmly

— If you guys are seeing this… i died in Italy… — Leah says talking to her phone. — But the link to my outfit is in the bio, use cupom #LEAHDEAD20 — she smiles.

Walker enters internet withdrawal, starting to narrate his own life aloud as if it were a live stream, Walker is thirsty, Walker misses air conditioning, Walker thinks he sees the light.

Eventually, exhaustion wins, the group falls asleep huddled on the slanted lounge floor, surrounded by open tins of caviar and empty sparkling water bottles.

You wake up with a bright light hitting your face, not the red emergency light. You blink, feeling your neck ache. Miguel is still sleeping holding you, his breathing calm. The boat has stopped rocking, in fact, it seems strangely stable.

— Guys? — you call out, your voice hoarse. — It’s morning.

Walker is the first to wake up, jumping up and screaming.

— LAND HO! I SAW A BIRD! IT IS A SIGN FROM GOD! OR THE ALGORITHM!

— Let’s go outside — Miguel says, rubbing his eyes and standing up. — Let’s see where the boat took us.

With hearts in their mouths, the group climbs the tilted floor and exits to the outer deck. The morning sun shines brightly. They prepare to see an infinite horizon of ocean, unexplored jungles, or dangerous cliffs.

Instead, they see a middle-aged man walking a Pug. The man stops on the stone sidewalk, less than five meters from the bow of the boat, and waves a hand, holding a coffee.

— Buongiorno! Nice parking job, huh?

The silence on the deck is absolute.

The yacht had broken loose, drifted down the Arno River for about eight hundred meters, and run aground on a sandbank and rocks on the edge of a public park, literally next to a gelateria that was opening its doors.

To the left, you can see the gigantic dome of the Florence Duomo gleaming in the sun. To the right, a group of tourists is taking photos of the stranded yacht with selfie sticks.

— Wait... — Walker squints, his voice failing. — Is that a Starbucks?

— We... — Mckenna looks at the green grass of the park, where children are playing soccer. — We didn't even leave the city?

Miguel starts to laugh, it is an incredulous laugh that starts in the chest and explodes.

— We spent six hours thinking we were going to die of hunger and cannibalism... and we could have ordered Uber Eats.

— Does Uber deliver here?! — Walker screams, pulling out his phone. — LOOK! 5G! I HAVE 5G! THE SIGNAL IS BACK! I’M ALIVE!

— It’s not that the signal came back, you idiot — you say, covering your face with your hands, feeling a mixture of relief and deadly secondhand embarrassment. — It’s that we were in a signal "shadow" under the bridge last night.

Leah runs to the edge of the boat and looks down, the water is waist-deep.

— We could have walked to the shore — she whispers, horrified. — I recorded a goodbye video crying... and i could have walked down and bought a gelato.

— This is humiliating — Mason says. — This isn't survival movie material.

— Worse — Mckenna says, looking at the tourists who are now pointing and laughing at the group of disheveled rich kids on the crooked boat. — Someone is doing a live stream of us on TikTok, i saw the flash.

— Smile and wave — Miguel says, pulling you into a tight hug, laughing against your hair. — It’s the only way out, pretend it’s performance art.

— Performance?! — Walker shouts, already typing frantically. — THAT’S IT! GENIUSES! — He flips the camera to himself, changing his expression from panic to cool in a millisecond. — Hey guys! Get ready with me for my Urban Luxury Camping

You look at Miguel, who just shakes his head.

— You still want to date me after this? — he asks. — My reputation will never recover, we’re going to be known as the "Castaways of the Sidewalk."

— For sure — you reply, kissing him under the Tuscan sun and the judgmental stares of tourists. — But you owe me dinner, on dry land and far away from these lunatics.

— Deal.

#mason thames x reader #miguel mora x reader #walker scobell x reader #leah sava jeffries #the black phone #Spotify #finney blake x reader #the black phone 2 #finney blake #ernesto arellano #finney blake fanfic #tbp x reader #the black phone x reader #the black phone fanfic #miguel mora #mckenna grace x reader

Girl where did u go 😭

angel is alive and breathing

merry christmas babes hope yall had a great day <3 kisses kisses🎄🎄

LET IT SNOW.

mason thames.

angel’s note

merry christmas, babes! 💌 hope you enjoy 𐙚

↺ fluffy, suggestive content, p in v sex (not too explicit)

— WAKE UP! WAKE UP! — Ben whispered, even though his whisper was loud enough to wake the entire house. — Dad, Mom! Santa came! I saw the boot!

The morning light had barely begun to slip through the cracks in the curtains when a familiar, restless weight sank into the mattress between you. Mason let out a deep groan, his voice still rough with sleep, but a lazy smile was already tugging at his lips. He stretched an arm out, pulling Ben into a hug that made the boy burst into laughter.

— You sure, buddy? — Mason asked, kissing the top of his son’s messy head. — Maybe he only left coal.

— No! — he protested, wriggling free and jumping off the bed. — Come on!

Ben tore through the wrapping paper with adorable ferocity, his wide eyes shining at every new discovery, a Lego set, a remote control car and colorful books. You and Mason sat on the rug with mugs of coffee in your hands, Ben’s joy was contagious, filling the house with a vibrant energy.

A few hours later, the smell of roast and spices filled the kitchen, the doorbell rang, and Ben sprinted to answer it.

— Merry Christmas! — Mady exclaimed as soon as the door opened, bringing in a burst of cold air and an armful of presents. Miguel followed right behind her, balancing serving dishes.

Lunch was loud, Miguel, already on his second glass of wine, was in the middle of a heated, playful debate with Ben about whether reindeer were faster than Formula 1 cars.

— I’m telling you, Ben. — Miguel said with mock seriousness, waving a fork. — Rudolph has turbo, i have seen it.

— You can’t see turbo! — Ben giggled, his mouth half-full.

At the other end of the table, you watched Mason trying to sneak a piece of turkey onto Mady’s plate, only for Mady to catch him and deftly steal a dinner roll off his plate in retaliation.

— Hey! — Mason protested, laughing.

— Christmas tax. — Mady winked, causing the whole table to erupt in laughter.

It was a mess of clinking silverware, overlapping conversations, and the kind of warmth that only comes when they are around. But as the afternoon wore on and the light outside turned golden, you felt the need for a quiet moment.

You slipped on your coat and stepped out onto the back porch, the air was icy, a perfect contrast to the warmth spilling from inside the house. You crossed your arms and stared at the horizon, breathing deeply, letting the calm sink in. As soon you heard the sliding door open softly behind you, steady footsteps approached, and before you could turn around, you felt Mason’s solid presence at your back.

— Thought you’d escaped. — he teased quietly, his low voice vibrating near your ear.

He wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest, and with the other hand offered you a steaming mug of tea.

— I just needed a second to breathe. — you said, accepting the mug and warming your hands around it. — Everything’s so perfect that sometimes i need to remind myself it’s real.

Mason rested his chin on your shoulder, tightening his embrace, the warmth of his body through your coat felt like the best gift you could have asked for.

— Why are you out here in the cold? — he asked, brushing his nose along your neck, making you shiver.

— Thinking… — you turned your face slightly to look at him, his eyes were locked on yours.

— About everything we’ve built, look at us, Mason… this house, Ben… remember when we thought we’d never get here? — Mason smiled, soft and proud, lifting his free hand to your face, his thumb brushing your cheek, cold from the wind.

— I remember. — he whispered. — I remember asking you out in high school, and thinking that your dad would never let me see you again. — his words made you laugh, a crooked smile appearing in the corner of your mouth.

He leaned in and kissed you, his hand rubbed your back, keeping you warm against him, like he was shielding you from every cold thing in the world. When you pulled apart, he didn’t let go, only turned you slightly so you could both look through the large living-room window.

Inside, Miguel and Mady sat on the floor laughing, while Ben was completely focused, showing Miguel how his new toy worked.

— We're definitely going to have problems with that noisy toy. — Mason said softly.

— As long he is happy. — you said, resting your head on his shoulder.

Mason kissed your forehead and held you tighter as you stood there together in the quiet cold. When the chill finally won against your coat, Mason guided you back inside, sliding the glass door shut and blocking out the wind. The warmth of the room wrapped around you instantly, Miguel and Mady were already getting ready to leave, gathering their coats and empty dishes.

— We're going home, apparently someone exaggerated the wine. — Maddy commented, while holding the dishes in one arm and the other screwing Miguel who was stumbling on his own feet.

— Today was wonderful, thank you for everything. — Miguel said, standing up to pull you into a tight hug and lightly punching Mason’s shoulder. — Don’t have much fun!

After the warm goodbyes at the front door, the house fell into a sudden but comfortable silence. You turned toward the living room and smiled, Ben was sprawled out on the fluffy rug, surrounded by Lego pieces.

— Looks like someone crashed. — Mason whispered, stopping beside you with a crooked smile.

He walked over and, with the ease that always impressed you, lifted Ben into his arms. The boy murmured something unintelligible and nestled his face into the curve of his dad’s neck, his legs already too long to be the baby you still saw sometimes.

— I’ll take him upstairs. — Mason said.

You nodded, and bent down to start picking the toys up, but when Mason got back downstairs, he caught your hand gently, stopping you.

— Leave it. — he said, pulling you toward the couch. — Let’s just deal with it tomorrow, tonight is ours.

You settled onto the big, soft couch, the Christmas tree lights the only illumination in the room, blinking slowly. Mason stretched his legs out and pulled you back between them, your back resting against his chest. For a moment, there was absolute silence, just his breathing and the soft creak of the house cooling outside.

— You know… — Mason started, his low voice vibrating against your back. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box wrapped in dark blue velvet. — Ben wasn’t the only one who behaved this year. — you turned in his arms, surprised, facing him.

— Mason… we agreed! No expensive gifts. — you scolded softly, even as your heart raced.

— I’m terrible at following rules. — he smiled, placing the box in your hand. — Open it.

With trembling fingers, you lifted the lid, inside, a delicate white-gold necklace shimmered, the small pendant engraved with the intertwined initials of the three of you.

— It’s beautiful. — you whispered, your eyes stinging.

— Let me put it on you. — he said, taking the necklace from the box.

You turned, lifting your hair, the cool touch of the metal against your skin was followed by the warmth of Mason’s fingers fastening the clasp, then a lingering kiss pressed to the back of your neck.

— Thank you for staying with me. — he murmured.

You turned back to him, cupping his face in your hands, pulling him into a slow kiss. Without breaking contact, Mason slid his hands from your waist to your back, pulling you closer, erasing the last bit of space between you. You felt the rough fabric of his shirt under your palms and tugged at it instinctively, drawing a low, husky sound from his chest in response. He shifted, leaning back against the couch arm and guiding you onto his lap, your legs settling on either side of him.

The movement was effortless, natural, like your bodies had memorized each other, he pulled back just enough to breathe leaving his forehead resting against yours. His hands lifted, tracing the line of your neck, brushing your nape before sliding into your hair, his touch was possessive, but filled with a quiet love and desire.

— I love you. — he whispered against your lips, his voice unsteady.

You answered without words, tilting your head to let him kiss along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot beneath your ear. Your hands traced his broad shoulders, feeling the tension melt under your touch. Then, with a reluctant sigh and more willpower than you felt capable of, you pulled away, standing from the couch.

The cooler air hit your skin instantly, followed by a low, protesting sound from Mason. He let his head fall back against the couch, hands hovering where you’d been seconds before, letting out a rough, needy groan.

— You cannot be serious. — he muttered, shooting you a offended look, his eyes shining under the lights, clearly unhappy with the interruption.

You let out a calmly laugh from your lips as you walked toward the hallway, stopping at the first step of the stairs. One hand on the railing, you turned slowly to face him, biting your lower lip with a provocative smile.

— Babe, too bad you’re tired. — you whispered, your voice laced with sweet provocation. — Because underneath all this, i’m wearing that red lace you love… and it would be a shame to take it off alone..

Mason’s fake exhaustion vanished, replaced by a wide, eager smile full of intent, he stood in one smooth motion, ignoring any hint of sleep or soreness.

— That’s unfair, babe. — he replied in a rough whisper, already crossing the room toward you.

He stopped only when he was close enough for you to catch his scent, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you against him again, drawing a soft laugh from you. Without many words, and mindful that Ben was asleep, you started up the stairs together. Your steps were slow, Mason’s hands roaming impatiently over your back and hips while your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck.

He guided you quickly into the bedroom, your bodies bumping softly against the doorframe. He pulled you into a deep kiss, cupping your face, until the soft click of the door closing behind you echoed. The room was lit only by the low light of the lamp, but it was enough to see the intensity in his eyes as his hands slid over you, pushing away your clothes.

When the lace finally came into view beneath his touch, Mason’s breath hitched audibly. He let out a shaky sigh, brushing his lips along your neck with hunger, he didn’t let you stay on your feet for much longer. With one fluid motion, your back met the soft mattress as he loomed over you, pressing you down into the sheets. The contrast between the cold air and the heat of his body covering yours was provocative, every touch of his hands drew a soft moan from you as he traced an almost possessive path from your waist up to your face.

— Look at me. — he whispered.

You locked eyes with him, your chest heaving, and a moan escaped your lips the moment you felt him inside you. He entered you with slow thrusts, stretching you little by little, penetrating you fully until you could feel him completely deep inside.

— Mase… — you moaned, the sensation overwhelming, a mix of pressure and pleasure.

His movements were slow at first, withdrawing almost completely before sliding back in with a firm, smooth thrust that hit all the right spots. His hands released yours to caress your body calmly, tracing your hip bones and grazing your ribs, anchoring you as the friction began to build.

You reached up to touch his face, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw and the sweat gathering on his back. Your lips were parted, a soft sigh escaping every time he hit that deep spot, sending waves of pleasure straight down your spine.

— You feel so good. — Mason groaned, his length sliding in as he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming stronger and deeper.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoed in the silent room for a moment, making you reach out to hold him back, you laughed softly as you slid your arms around his neck.

— Quiet, remember? — you whispered, meeting his gaze for an instant. You both laughed together before sealing your lips against each other.

Your moans mingled as the tension wound tighter, coiling in your stomach, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper. Mason buried his face in the crook of your neck, his ragged breathing against your sensitive skin matching your rhythm perfectly, until the pleasure hit you, shattering into an orgasm that left you both breathless and trembling together.

When the house finally returned to complete silence and your heartbeats slowed to a sleepy calm, Mason pulled the comforter over you both. He drew you back against his chest, instinctively fitting together, his arm wrapping around your waist. With his face buried in your hair, he pressed one last sleepy kiss to the top of your head.

— You’re my best gift. — he murmured, his voice drifting off into sleep, before finally succumbing to exhaustion.

#finney blake x reader #the black phone 2 #finney blake #miguel mora x reader #the black phone #ernesto arellano #finney blake fanfic #tbp x reader #the black phone x reader #the black phone fanfic #mason thames #mason thames x reader

writing a cute christmas series for mason and miguel 💌

#mason thames x reader #miguel mora x reader

hey do you have any mason x miguel x reader fic requests? i'd like to request if you don't have any (smut preferably)

yess ofc u can make a request, i would love it

i’m yearning for that mckenna and mason fic ahhhh

lmao i have it ready to post but still rewriting some too explicit paragraphs

#mason thames x reader #mckenna grace x reader

alright i think i made that mason x mckenna x reader a little too stronggg

i got some threesome requests but i don’t really have wrote a whole threesome smut, anyone have some tips

#mason thames x reader #miguel mora x reader

Hi,could you write Mason Thames smut with reader who could maybe be Ethan Hawke's daughter? (Ethan's the man that played the grabber in tbp) Maybe she and Mason could be dating since the first movie dropped or something

hii! posted here! i’m sorry i didn’t add the smut part, but i probably will make part 2 <3

PREMIERES ARE… WARM?

mason thames.

angel note

hii! reader as ethan’s daughter was so fun to write i’m definitely doing more <3

request by anon

no warnings

YOU HAD GROWN UP on film sets, trailing after your dad between trailers and lighting rigs, so being at the premiere for The Black Phone 2 felt strangely nostalgic, except for one difference, Mason wasn’t just the kid you knew from the cast anymore. Mason always seemed to find you in a room of a thousand people like you were the only person there worth looking at.

His expression softened the second your eyes met, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

— Finally. — he whispered when he reached you, pretending he wasn’t two seconds away from pulling you into a hug. — Thought your dad kidnapped you.

— He didn’t, he just walks slow now. — You laughed.

— You calling your dad old?

— I’m calling him dramatic. — you corrected.

His grin widened, the kind that still made your stomach flip even after two years of dating in secret, since the very first film dropped, when you were both younger and trying not to stare at each other too long on set. Back then, it was shy smiles, now it was something so much deeper, something you didn’t even have a name for.

Your dad was across the room talking to Scott, but Mason’s hand brushed yours subtly, familiar and warm.

— No red carpet kissing. — you teased under your breath.

— Wasn’t planning on kissing you. — he whispered back, leaning just a little closer. — I was planning on stealing you after.

— Very subtle.

— I’m not subtle, i’m suffering. — he said with mock seriousness. — You look so hot in this dress. — you nudged his shoulder, but your cheeks were already pink.

— You didn’t say it back. — he murmured playfully, eyes dropping to your lips for one traitorous second.

— Say what?

— That i look hot too. — he said, and you rolled your eyes.

— You look decent, Mason. — you laughed.

Ethan turned around and Mason’s hand snapped away from yours so fast you nearly laughed, then your dad walked over, warm and charismatic as ever.

— There you are. — Ethan said, placing a hand on your shoulder before giving Mason a knowing look. — You two keeping out of trouble?

Mason’s face changed, to a polite and respectful expression he reserved specifically for your father.

— Yes, sir, always. — Mason answered.

You had to bite back a smile, if your dad ever found out Mason had climbed through your bedroom window last month at 2 a.m, just to cuddle because he missed you, well, Mason would never recover.

When Ethan turned to greet someone else, Mason leaned in again, only for you to hear.

— Your dad definitely knows.

— He doesn’t. — you whispered back. — My mom knows.

— He definitely suspects.

— Maybe. — you conceded.

Mason slipped his hand back into yours, hidden between your bodies, his thumb brushed your knuckles slow.

— Doesn’t matter. — he murmured. — As long i still get to be with you.

You felt your heart tighten, soft and full and familiar, the same way it had since day one. The premiere flowed around you, flashing cameras, voices echoing, producers squeezing through crowds but Mason stayed close, his shoulder brushing yours like he couldn’t help it. Every so often, he’d glance at you from the corner of his eye, like he still couldn’t believe you were actually there.

Eventually, someone from the press pulled Ethan aside for photos, and you and Mason ended up near a quieter section of the theater lobby, Mason exhaled, finally letting the mask of well-behaved professionalism crack.

— God, i hate being polite that long. — he whispered dramatically.

— You were fine. — You laughed softly.

— I was terrified. — he corrected. — Every time your dad looked at me I felt like he could read my mind.

— Can he? — you teased.

— Yes, i’m sure of it. — Mason paused, dead serious.

— Relax, he likes you. — You nudged him.

He looked at you like he wasn’t sure whether to believe that or cling to the safety of his panic. Ethan stopped right in front of you, eyes flicking between you and Mason with that fatherly intuition that saw way too much.

— Mason.

— Yes, sir. — Mason said too fast.

— You’re sweating.

— Premieres are… warm? — Mason wiped his forehead instinctively.

Ethan gave a slow nod, then walked back toward the press, the moment he was out of earshot, Mason groaned into his hands. You smiled at him, a slow, warm smile that made him bite the inside of his cheek. Mason’s gaze lingered on you for a moment too long, his eyes dropping to your lips before he caught himself.

— I really want to kiss you, babe. — he whispered.

Mason leaned his forehead against yours briefly, the quickest, smallest touch, hidden from everyone but painfully precious.

— I missed you. — you said.

The movie ended with applause echoing through the theater, cast members hugging, lights beginning to warm the room again. Mason leaned back in his seat, hands running through his hair as he tried, and failed, to hide how nervous he was around your dad the entire time, he looked at you when you nudged him with your shoulder.

— You were great.

He smiled sideways at you, the kind of smile that tugged at something deep in your chest.

— You really think so?

— I always think so.

He stared at you for a beat too long, then looked down at your intertwined fingers on the armrest. At some point during the movie, he had taken your hand and you hadn’t let go. People started standing up, filing out. But neither of you moved. Your breath caught. He was close, close enough that you could see the tiny freckles under his eyes, close enough to feel his breath, close enough that your heart was doing something deeply embarrassing.

You nodded, so small he barely saw it, but he did. Mason cupped your cheek gently, thumb brushing your skin as if checking whether this was real, whether he was allowed to want this much. His face moved toward yours, slow, hesitant, reverent. Your noses brushed. Your lips barely grazed.

— Honey. — You both jerked back like you’d been electrocuted. Ethan stood t the end of the row, arms crossed, eyebrows lifted to the heavens.

— Sir! I was just, um… we were… it’s…

— Finding the exit?

— Yes… — Mason squeaked.

Mason collapsed back into his seat, hands over his face.

— I’m never going to recover from that. — You laughed softly, sliding your hand into his again.

— Come on. — you said. — Let’s get some air.

Outside, the chaos of the premiere had calmed. Only a few lingering guests remained, the glow of streetlights replacing camera flashes. Your dad was talking with the director near the entrance, leaving you and Mason a rare pocket of privacy near a quiet corner of the theater.

— I almost kissed you. — Mason stuck his hands in his pockets, still flustered.

— We can blame timing. — You stepped closer.

— I wasn’t wrong earlier. — he said quietly. — You really do look beautiful tonight.

Your stomach flipped in a way it only ever did with him.

— You look pretty good yourself.

— Oh thank God. — he sighed dramatically. — Balance has been restored.

You shoved him lightly and he caught your hand, gentle but sure. His thumb stroked the back of your fingers in slow, comforting patterns.

— You know… — he said, voice dropping. — I was thinking if you’d be too busy tonight... — a silence settled between you, not awkward, but soft.

Mason leaned in again, slower this time, giving you every chance to pull away, but you didn’t, his forehead rested against yours, his voice barely a breath.

— Hey! I’m heading to the car! — Your dad’s voice carried across the sidewalk.

— This man is actually going to ruin my life. — Mason said making you bit your lip to stop laughing.

— I need to go, my windows open tonight.

The morning light hits your eyes before you’re ready to wake up, you stretch, mumbling something half, coherent, and then freeze when you realize a thing. You fell asleep on the bed, with your head on Mason’s bare chest. He’s still asleep, hair messy, mouth slightly open, one arm wrapped around your waist like he pulled you closer during the night without noticing

You’re seconds away from untangling yourself when you hear footsteps.

— Honey?

You and Mason both jolt upright, Ethan appears in the hallway, still in pajamas, holding a mug of coffee, blinking like he’s trying to process the sight in front of him, his daughter wrapped in the arms of his costar, whos only wearing a black boxer.

He just stares and you both want to evaporate.

— Good morning… — you manage, Mason sits up so fast he nearly flips off the bed, covering himself, making it worse.

— Mr. Hawke — he stammers. — Always an honor. Sir. — Ethan lowers his mug very slowly, like he’s analyzing a hostage situation.

— Did you… sleep here?

— We… uh — you start.

— Yes! — Mason blurts at the same time.— Yes, but not like, not together, we just, slept… on the bed!

You cut in before Mason combusts.

— Dad, it was innocent, we watched a movie, it got late… That’s all.

Ethan breathes in, long enough to make Mason sweat.

— Alright, but next time, tell me, i almost had a heart attack seeing a grown man on my daughters bed at seven in the morning.

Mason opens his mouth, but Ethan lifts a hand.

— I’m not done with you, you’re a good kid, i like you… but please stop stepping in my roses so you can climb my daughter’s window, my wife loves them.

— Of course sir! — Mason says immediately.

— Good, want some coffee?

— Y-yes? — Mason squeaks.

— Kitchen’s that way! And don’t touch the French press…. Young people always mess it up! — Mason stumbles away, carrying his clothes, whem he’s gone, Ethan looks at you and raises an eyebrow.

— So… “just friends,” huh? — Ethan says making you groan.

— Dad… — he sighs to you, but smiles. A real smile.

— Just be careful.

— I am.

— And… — he glances toward the kitchen, where Mason is definitely pretending to know what he’s doing. — You know there’s condoms in the bathroom, right? — He smirks.

— Dad! Stop! That’s disgusting. — You screamed, walking away.

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