#and just needed to get it out of my system

[ellecdc]

About the onde bed trope… since there aren’t a lot of those, I was wondering if you could write one with reader and wolfstar? Maybe a smut or just something fluff

hi babes! so I got this request right after someone had asked for recommendations for one-bed tropes, which I had only ever read one and shared it. SO, I wanted to remind everyone of the cute wolfstar x reader one bed fic I read by @longlivedelusion, and know that while I'm happy to contribute to this super fun trope with our lovely wolfstar, that it was more than likely inspired by their awesome work linked above!

poly!wolfstar x Potter!reader who have to share a bed [2.8k words]

CW: mutual pining, feelings of 3rd wheeling, fluff, potter family

The hotel was bustling with what appeared to be just as many staff as there were patrons waiting in the lobby.

Bags were being whisked away, key cards were being handed to waiting hands, and nearly every second person was wearing a Manchester United jersey. 

James was positively giddy and practically vibrating with excitement, Lily and Regulus had their faces shoved into Lily’s phone as they (re)read the itinerary they had planned for James’ birthday trip, Remus arched his shoulders as he let his duffle fall to the ground and Sirius murmured promises of a back massage when they got to their room, and you people watched. 

Your parents had given James (and all of his friends) tickets to the Manchester home game and a few nights stay at a posh hotel close to the stadium.

Lily and Regulus, being James’ dutiful partners, planned other things for the lot of you to do while you were here, too.

Right now, however, you wanted nothing more than to get to your room, take a shower to wash the train off of your being, and go to sleep.

Mercifully the check in counter cleared and your group stepped up to the waiting concierge. 

“Hi there! We’re checking in for Potter; group of six.” Lily offered primly as she handed the man a copy of the booking number. 

“Right! Okay, so Potter, two rooms, each with a king, for three nights.” The man read from the screen, looking over in concern when six varied protests sounded from the group.

“No, I’m quite sure it’s meant to be three rooms.” Lily corrected quickly, offering you a worried glance before she nearly leaned over the welcome desk to peer at the computer monitor as if she was ready to take over for the concierge. 

The man hummed as he continued tapping keys and clicking his mouse and scrolling and please for the love of God don’t let there be a mix up.

It was going to be you that was the problem; not Lily and Regulus who were counting on a romantic trip to celebrate their boyfriend, and not Remus and Sirius with their long-established relationship and promises of Remus’ massage.

“The booking is only showing two rooms, uhm, let me just confirm with my manager that I’m not missing anything.” He bumbled awkwardly before standing and all but fleeing from the group of you. 

“It’s probably just a mistake.” James offered quickly as he jostled your shoulder. “With this many people here, the system is probably just lagging.”

But it wasn’t just a mistake and the system wasn’t just lagging and there was very much only two rooms booked under Potter.

“Is there any way we can book a third room? It can go on the same card.” You asked meekly, nervously glancing between the manager and the computer. 

“Unfortunately, the hotel is entirely booked.” She offered you with a pained smile, and just from your survey of the lobby while you’d been waiting in line, you knew that had to be true. 

“Do you have any cots we could have sent up to the rooms?” Lily asked hopefully, earning another grimace from the manager which was all the response you needed.

You could feel the group looking at you awkwardly and you immediately regretted even coming; you should have just left James to celebrate his birthday with his partners and best friends and stayed out of it, but instead, you were the troublesome younger sibling who your parents forced the group to bring along. Maybe you could catch a train back home? Maybe you could catch a train a town or two over and just have your own mini vacation and leave them to their celebrations.

“Don’t worry, bug!” James said as he rubbed your arm roughly before reaching over you to grab the keys to the two rooms from the concierge who was clearly now only waiting for the lot of you to bugger off so he could help the people behind you. “We’ll make this work.”

“You shouldn’t have to make it work, Jamie.” You moaned as your group moved to stand against a wall across the lobby as you all tried to problem solve this. 

“Both rooms have just one bed each, right? Do either of them have a sofa?” Regulus asked first.

“The pictures online didn’t look like it; the rooms had the bed, one grandfather chair, and a desk with a rolling desk chair.” Lily responded. 

“Okay, well, both rooms have king sized beds, we can share.” Sirius offered simply, causing you to nearly whimper.

“I’m not going to impose on anyone’s beds.” You murmured as you stared resolutely at your feet.

“You can share with me! It’ll be like the old days when we’d have a “sleepover” in the living room!” James offered excitedly, and you had to hand it to him for his sense of adventure and enthusiasm, but you couldn’t help but notice the quick glance Lily and Regulus shared.

“It’s your birthday weekend, Jamie, you should get to spend it with your partners.”

“Okayyyy, uhm, what about the girls room together and boys room together?” He offered instead, causing Lily to furrow her brows at him.

“But then two of us will be sharing while four of you will be sharing.” She countered, followed up quickly by Regulus who stated he would not, under any circumstances, be sharing a bed with his brother. 

“No, you’re right, erm, well… Me, Pads, and Moony could share-”

“James, I love you, but you’re terrible at this.” Sirius interrupted before turning his gaze to you. “You should just stay with me and Moons; leave these three to their…canoodling.” He said around a theatrical gag. 

“You guys were probably looking forward to a romantic stay too.” You muttered somewhat petulantly, and that was what nearly brought you to the brink of tears.

Not that you were the figurative sixth wheel, not that you were left without a room and imposing on two relationships, and not even that you felt particularly out of place.

No, the thing that nearly brought you to tears was the fact that you were acting so petulant on your brother's birthday which he had been so incredibly excited for.

You would not ruin this for him, for any of them. 

“No, you know what, sorry, you’re right, Sirius. I’ll pile the extra bedding they keep in the closets and make myself a little nest on the floor, it’ll be like camping!” You decided, pasting on the widest smile you could muster. 

You swore you saw Sirius’ face fall slightly but powered on when James was back to clapping his hands together excitedly. “Brilliant! This will be so fun, and so worth it, bug. Don’t you worry.”

And you were worried, but he didn’t need to know that. 

ʚ ═══·୨ ꕤ ୧·═══ ɞ

“You’re not actually going to sleep on the floor, right doll?” Sirius asked after the hotel door shut with a click behind him as he glanced around the room. 

It was perhaps a bit tight, but if you set up your little nest underneath the window, neither boy should trip over you in the middle of the night should they need to use the loo.

“Oh it’ll be fine.” You offered in what you hoped was convincing nonchalance. 

“I really think the bed is big enough, dove. And Sirius usually latches onto me in the night so you shouldn’t even notice we’re there.” Remus offered gently, watching as you flung the closet doors open to procure the extra bedding. 

“S’not my fault, moons.” Sirius countered as he trailed right on your heels to where you were trying to make your ‘nest’. “You keep the thermostat so sodding low, I’d simply freeze to death if you didn’t share your body heat.”

He ignored your indignant “oi!” as he immediately plucked your pillows and blankets off the floor from where you’d placed them and moved them to the end of the bed. “And, I think you do that on purpose; you like cuddling.” He continued, gently swatting at your hands as you tried to reclaim your makeshift bed. 

“Oh, I love cuddling.” Remus agreed readily, clearly ignoring the fact that you and Sirius were currently in a petty squabble over linens. “What I don’t like is being jolted awake to your ice cold feet being shoved under my thighs at three o'clock in the morning- dove.” He gave you a pointed look with one arched eyebrow as you huffed petulantly and crossed your arms. 

“You are not sleeping on the floor, doll. Your parents paid for the sodding rooms.” Sirius claimed resolutely. 

“They were meant to pay for three rooms so that you two would have some privacy.” You argued.

“You’re really the only one upset about this, babes.” He stated, face softening when you nervously pulled your lip between your teeth. “If you’re worried about space, I’ll take the floor.”

“I don’t want you to take the floor.”

“Then I’ll take-” Remus started, but was interrupted when both you and Sirius spat “you’re not sleeping on the floor, Remus” and “like fuck you’re sleeping on the floor, don’t be ridiculous”, respectively. 

“So those are your choices, sweetheart; I take the floor or we share the bed.” 

After this many years of knowing each other, you knew when Sirius was bluffing, and you knew when it was better to fold; with the no nonsense look that currently adorned his face, you knew that those were, indeed, your only options.

You looked over at the bed wearily; it really was quite large…and you could use your own blanket so that you weren’t encroaching on their space or stealing their blankets. 

The problem was that the bed wasn’t the only problem. It also was very much the fact that you were pretty well completely gone for two of your brothers best friends.

Two of your brothers best friends who were very much dating each other. 

Two of your brothers best friends who were dating each other that you were completely gone for and now forced to share a bed with them. 

Awesome. 

ʚ ═══·୨ ꕤ ୧·═══ ɞ

Sirius just about died when you stepped out of the bathroom with wet hair leaving damp patches on your sleep shirt and your legs on full display thanks to the matching shorts.

He just about died again when you caught him staring at you.

He nearly died a third time when Remus’ pointed clearing of his throat was what finally broke him from the trance you had on him; both he and Remus now red in the face while you looked to be fairing little better as you hid behind your wet hair and fussed with your toiletries instead of looking at either of them.

Sirius felt horribly pathetic - years of living with the Potter’s did absolutely nothing to dim the flame he held for you, nor did the physical space that living with Remus in their own flat for the past few years offered him.

The only thing that made his infatuation slightly less embarrassing was the fact that Remus held a similar flame for you, too. 

So while this was sort of everything he’d ever wanted - spending the night in a bed with two people he was absolutely crazy about - he was equally afraid of making you horribly uncomfortable. 

“Smooth.” Remus muttered as he came up behind Sirius only after you’d gone back into the bathroom to brush your teeth.

Sirius wanted to turn and sneer at his boyfriend. “I know I am” danced on the tip of his tongue; his usual suave blaseness in all its glory rearing its head at the insinuation that Sirius was anything but a certified charmer.

But all that managed to leave Sirius’ lips was a breathy “fuck” as he stared decisively at the space you’d been standing previously.

But before Sirius could spend any (more) time spiralling or Remus could offer words of encouragement (or commiseration), you were tentatively sliding into what the three of you had agreed would be your side.

Your side. 

The sentiment made Sirius stomach dip; after all these years he was finally getting a taste of what he’d always wanted.

Yet it wasn’t enough.

The lights were off and Sirius’ back was pressed into Remus’ chest as they both watched the steady rise and fall of your shoulders as you slept. They’d both felt so tired on the train ride here, yet neither of them could bring themselves to close their eyes when the alternative was getting to see you rest in their bed.

“Is this really happening?” Remus whispered quietly then, causing Sirius to snuggle impossibly further into him.

“Feels like a dream.” Sirius whispered back; his hand itching to reach out and twirl a lock of your drying hair around his finger, to encourage you to roll over so that they could see your pretty face, to pull you into him and hold you close. 

Remus tightened his hold around Sirius and pushed his nose into his shoulder. “We should tell her; need to tell her… this weekend.” 

Sirius shook his head, but it wasn’t in disagreement. Rather, it was in exasperation.

“I can’t believe she can’t tell how crazy we are about her.” 

And Sirius nearly died a fourth time in one night when you seemingly shot up out of a dead sleep and spun to face them. 

“You’re what?” You asked; no hints of sleep in your tone (nor your wild eyes) as you stared at them incredulously. 

“Fuck.” Sirius repeated eloquently as he and Remus both sat up, the latter leaning over to turn on a lamp causing both you and Sirius to wince as your eyes adjusted.

“I thought you were asleep?” Sirius accused then, but you didn’t take the bait. 

“You’re…what about me?” You whispered carefully.

“Crazy.” Remus responded quickly; whether he was braver than Sirius or opting to rip the bandaid off, Sirius didn’t know. “We’re crazy about you.”

You made a breathy sound, almost as if you were going to ask “what” or “why” or “when” before the question died on your lips. 

Sirius stared at you in wait; he didn’t know whether you were about to cry, whether you were going to demand they let you build a ‘nest’ on the floor so you could escape them, or whether you were going to call your folks and ask them to pick you up.

So when your face broke out into a slow, still disbelieving but equally relieved grin, well…he’d be damned. 

“Yeah?” You asked hopefully, eyes swimming with unshed tears as you nervously looked between the two of them. 

“Yeah…” Sirius let out with a breath, daring to reach across the expanse of the bed that the three of you had clearly decided would be a no-man zone and delighting when you eagerly accepted his hand in yours.

“We thought you were asleep, dove.” Remus offered gently, and a shy smile crept across your face as you shook your head, a lone tear trailing down your cheek that your free hand was quick to wipe away.

“Couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Sirius cooed pathetically, rubbing along your knuckles with his thumb as he took your inability to sleep to be a personal offence. 

“Was too busy thinking about how crazy I am about the two of you, too.” You admitted in a whisper, and Sirius wondered if he had even frozen long enough to share more than a 0.35 second glance with Remus before he bodily launched himself and tackled you to the bed before peppering your face with kisses as you squealed.

“You mean-” kisses “to tell me-” more kisses as you giggled “that we could have been doing this” you squealed as he nipped at your collar bone “this whole sodding time!?” 

“Oi!” Remus chided teasingly. “Don’t maul her!” Though his statement was severely undermined when he all but pulled you into his lap to press his own rough kiss to the side of your face. 

“Oh, I’m just getting started.” Sirius threatened with a beaming smile as you looked at him breathlessly; eyes bright, smile wide, and heart full. “We have lost time to make up for.” 

ʚ ═══·୨ ꕤ ୧·═══ ɞ

Enough was enough, quite frankly. The tiptoeing, the dancing, the shy glances, the longing looks - it was all too much.

Something simply needed to be done.

Was it temerarious? Perhaps. Was it conniving? More than slightly. But was it also necessary? Most definitely.

She only hoped that she hadn’t gone too far, is all.

But any worries that Euphemia Potter may have had vanished entirely the second that her phone buzzed with a text from James the next morning that simply read: it worked.

[minkieater]

luck → jyh 🂡

“if you are unsure on who is going to win, always bet on yunho.”

p. jeong yunho x fem!reader g. borderline yandere!yunho, non idol au w. alcohol consumption, smut minors dni PLS, cheating, stalking, yunho's fucking crazy wc. 7.7k

♫ —vermillion, slipknot “my dahlia bathed in possession, she is home to me.” 

his right hand completely enveloped two dainty, fragile wrists connected to two perfectly manicured hands, pinned above a very beautiful fucked out face. the french tips stared back at him as he lost himself fully, buried deep inside someone he most certainly should not of been. as he reaches the hilt of his pleasure, he lets it rush through him, consume him for that stolen moment of freedom before it drags him down all the same. 

he retracts his hand as he pulls out, taking a breath, but no time to waste, he has someone waiting at home for him, after all.

 the sweat is wiped off his forehead and his pants are zipped up before she could come down herself. it never really bothered him much, the cheating thing, but then again, he never really thought twice about it. he’s always done what he’s wanted, he’s never had any reason not to. 

he knows if she found out it’d be the end of their picture perfect relationship, and as inconvenient that situation would be, it makes the doing all the much more exhilarating. 

his heart is never fuller than when he’s with her, that pretty little thing. standing at a petite five foot something, her head reaches just the tip of his shoulder. it makes him feel powerful with his over six foot build, towering over her, having to bend at the hips to steal a quick kiss on her always glossed lips. 

she was perfect to him, perfect for him, but yet he couldn’t let go of sinking himself into anyone that looked at him with a twinkle in their eye. she’s smart, funny, thoughtful, attentive, and overall just sweet. but he loved the attention, loved the adoration, he loved to feel loved. wanted, lusted, appreciated — sometimes one person’s captivation just isn’t enough. it was never enough for yunho. 

he had the same routine whenever he did it, his little addiction: find his toy for the night, leave the bar, have a quick fuck, hurry back to the bar, cover his tracks, get home. 

even the nights she was at the bar he’d sometimes make it work, the logistics of it are all his genius, but he’d do it and he’d do it well — she would never question a thing. no one got his number, no one got his full name if they didn’t already know it, and no one expected to see jeong yunho again after that one quick half an hour, if that, spent with him. somehow, all the odds were forever in his favor.

that was, of course, until he met you. 

everything he thought he knew about his relationship, everything he thought he felt about his sweet little girlfriend, this perfect system that he’d created for himself, all of that went straight in the shitter the second you batted your eyelashes at him the first time. 

she was at home, sleeping soundly, which he was sure of because she had a shift early the next morning, he was out with a few of his friends after a long night of studying. she never waited up for him, never questioned who he was out with, she had full and utter faith in him. which, essentially, was her downfall. 

four beers and two shots deep, his waist was bent over the bar for yet another beer, no longer seated on the stool at the table with his friends. across the bar, he saw you, and the room went silent for a moment. beautiful face, perfect build, everything he looked for in a woman. he knew exactly who his target was tonight, and you knew it, too. but you didn’t find that out until later. 

you were preoccupied, talking to one of his friends, actually. you had full intentions of trying to take that husky, tall, blonde haired man home with you that night, yunho could read it all over your face. that couldn’t happen, that won’t happen. 

mingi would understand, right? he needed mingi to understand. he wanted you. he needed you. 

he waited until he got his beer, he even took notice of the bottle in your grasp and bought you another, too. he made his way around the bar, a predator stalking his prey, strides fluid and smooth like a snake preparing to attack. 

“you do know that you’re not supposed to take drinks from strangers, right?” you look to him with an eyebrow raised, and he knew then and there he was fucked. glossy lips, hair done to perfection, dress perfectly clinging to your curves — he wished he could cut straight to the point, snap his fingers and he could skip the build up and sheer work it took to get you where he wanted you. 

“who said we were strangers?” the same eyebrow lifts on his own face, smirk taking a now permanent seat on his lips, clinking his beer with yours in cheers. fortunately for him, game was his forte, mingi had to know he was a goner already. 

“i guess we don’t have to be,” you finished off your previous beer at the same time he did, trading it for the new one he brought, “this is the yunho you mentioned, huh, mingi?” 

“yeah, yeah, this is yunho,” mingi nods and his cheeks flush, out of embarrassment or annoyance, yunho wasn’t sure. he wished he felt worse for completely dogging his friend’s play, but when it comes to this, came to you, yunho physically could not hold himself back. 

“and who are you? since you know everything about me already,” that cocky smirk won't leave his face, and you’re not hiding that it’s driving you insane. good, just how he wants you. curious, interested, maybe even craving. easy. 

you introduce yourself, shifting your weight from one heeled foot to the other, “dunno everything about you, but can’t say i wouldn’t like to find out more.” 

check mate. mingi takes this as his cue to turn on his heel, bidding both of you goodnight. yunho would have to call him tomorrow, give him a proper apology. 

an hour later he had you on your back at a nearby motel, barreling inside of you like it was the last thing he’d ever do. when he gets into these situations, he’s never one to play nice, never sticks around, a big hit it and quit it type of guy, but what can he say? he’s got a beautiful woman waiting for him at home. 

but that night … that night he had the most intriguing woman he’d ever encountered beneath him. he even made you cum first, not something he usually tries to do, never a goal for each person on his list despite not a single one leaving his presence unsatisfied. seeing you across the bar was the prologue to the novel you were about to write together, sweat and spit the pen and paper. 

he couldn’t leave you that night. he knew he should’ve went home to her, he knew he should’ve gotten your last name, he knew he should’ve at least used a condom. but he didn’t. 

the first time he saw you, he knew he should’ve stayed the fuck away, knew he should’ve kept his routine consistent, he knew you’d be the one to send his head into a spiral. jeong yunho knew a lot of things, he’s a smart guy, but greed sits at the top of the list of his flaws, and you brought out the worst in him. 

maybe he needed a little bit of humbling, a wake up call of sorts, but the last thing he expected was waking up to the bed empty, a ghost of your figure laying next to him, the sweet smell of your perfume and sweat lingering in the cheap cotton. 

the worst of it all, he hasn’t seen you since. 

which brings him to two weeks later, where he emptied himself in yet another woman who looks like she could be your distant cousin, maybe a good friend that ever so slightly resembles you. maybe he’s just been looking for you in every single cervix he’s touched since that night. 

on the ride home, his brain is elsewhere, as it’s been after every single hook up he’s had since you. when he gets home and his pretty little girlfriend is waiting for him, he can’t bring himself to question why she’s awake, not when she’s pecking kisses all over his face, telling him how much she’s missed him. completely oblivious, a small part of him thinks she’s fucking ignorant for it. 

he knows what’s to come. if he keeps going down this road it’s only a matter of time before his feelings toward her turn resentful, he gets meaner, she gets insecure, he gets aggravated. he can see it play out in his mind, yet he’s indifferent. with her, without her, he doesn’t care. all he wants is to see you again.

if he could, he’d have no need for the girlfriend that waits up for him after the bar. no requisite for her making his lunches, washing his hair, doing his laundry, unzipping his pants after a stressful day. yunho wishes he could love his girlfriend the way he always had, but the truth is, the first time you sunk your teeth into him ruined any future he had with her. 

a month later, he saw your friend again. the one from that night who stood by, observing, looking through yunho like he was transparent, naked to the human eye. across that same bar, he couldn’t contain his surprise, couldn’t stop himself from widening his eyes or dropping his jaw. an invitation, an opportunity, an answer for his questions, first being where the hell have you been? when will he see you again? did you mention anything about him? did you at least admit he was a good fuck? he’s bursting at the seams with impatience, heart pounding so hard against his broad chest he could hear it. 

she didn’t give him much, not that he went about it in an inconspicuous way. pestering her with questions, pushing for answers, trying his best to seem interested but not flat out creepy. it didn’t work very well. he couldn’t contain his excitement, his urgency, his yearning, she could see straight through him once again. he was off his game. 

what she did give him was your last name, a common last name which was surprisingly a nickname for you used more often than not. she didn’t even notice the reveal of this key piece of information, not even when the wicked smile threatened to crack his best innocent facade. 

he didn’t sleep with anyone that night, didn’t look for you in any women at that dingy bar. he did go home and sleep with his pretty little girlfriend, who once again overlooked the smell of infidelity and heineken oozing from his skin, as she always does. when her eyes closed and her breaths turned rhythmic and slow, he pulled out his phone, deciding to do his research in the dead of night. 

there were plenty of people with your first and last name, but there was only one you. he found you with ease, and your page takes him by surprise. you post everything. it tells him so much, too much, and gives plenty of ammunition for his right hand that couldn’t resist the ache in his dick. by the point of post nut clarity, he’s cooking up an idea, which turns to an objective, a plan. he fell asleep with a smile on his face and a sense of urgency he couldn’t wait to fulfill. 

he waits until the next weekend, and not patiently. he’s checking your instagram every day, watching your stories off of a burner account, he nearly starts a list in his notes of places you frequent, your orders from coffee shops, things you like. he’d have to tell you to stop making it so easy to know you, understand you, to find you. 

it’s clear you’re a free spirit, not a thought in your brain that someone is watching you, examining you, waiting for you. but he wants you this way, oblivious, unsuspecting, surprised when he shows up to your place of work. maybe you’re used to the attention, yunho thinks, you’re beautiful and you definitely know it, too. as much as he has the urge to hide you, keep you from desiring eyes, he’s proud, in a way, that you can show yourself off so openly. you won’t hide yourself the way his girlfriend does, you didn’t shy off from him for a moment in those four hours he spent with you six weeks ago. 

his friends are surprised that he wants to go anywhere besides his favorite dingy bar in the middle of manhattan, especially with the luxury of a VIP section and bottle service, but he doesn’t kiss and tell. he quickly blamed the hastily prepared outing on his friend’s internship acceptance when his friends questioned the occasion, he’d rather them be unaware. especially with his girlfriend present, much to his dismay. he let them think he’s just a good friend, despite his intentions being more than culpable. the less they know, the better, even though a couple of them definitely have an idea — he couldn’t hide it from everyone. 

when they finally made it to the line outside of the nightclub, a smaller group of six, muffled pounds of the heavy bass from inside only increased the sweat on yunho’s palms. he knew you were inside, in a tight little bodysuit, sparkly tights and a pair of heels on your feet. he wished he could blame the adrenaline as his pants grew tighter, not on the fact that you were inside, not knowing he gathered a whole group of people and improvised an entire celebration just to see your face again. 

he immediately skipped the line, telling the bouncer his last name, and got the group inside with ease. different hues of purples and greens and blues reflected the ceilings, the walls, the tables, the floor. if he wasn’t so one-track minded he’d be overstimulated. he was brought to the section with his friends following closely behind, he forced the adrenaline to leave his face, his body, his hands. his scheme was set in motion, he needed to lock in, let go of any emotion that might incriminate him, make him seem suspicious. 

he ordered bottles, vodka, tequila and whiskey, three chances for you to make your way around to his section, maybe carrying a sign or carrying a bottle or simply clapping and cheering with your coworkers. when he met you, he didn’t expect you to be a bottle girl at a night club, but he supposed that explains why you haven’t been back to his favorite bar. he assumed you were a full time student, but if he had to guess, maybe a retail employee or a coffee shop barista, something simple, just to get the bills paid so you can live as freely as you want. he was thoroughly mistaken, yet he couldn’t complain. 

especially not when you made your way over to the table, bucket of ice and mixers in your hands, a huge smile on your face. he knew exactly what you’d be wearing: a tiny little black bodysuit that left nothing to the imagination, sparkling tights that mirrored the strobe lights so perfectly, a pair of heels so high he wondered how you were walking so smoothly. that wicked smile appeared on his lips again, the pride of victory flowing through his veins, despite him willing away any emotion reflecting on his face. he should’ve known his body wouldn’t listen to him when it came to you, but his plan had worked, you’re here, bringing juices and sodas and not helping his dick that refuses to soften in his jeans.

he catches your eye and keeps it as you bent forward, setting down the bucket on the table, someone else putting down the bottles beside it. yunho couldn’t be bothered to notice anyone else, not when you keep eye contact as the little show you put on ends, definitely not when you stare over your shoulder as you and your crowd go back to wherever you came from. 

as you get back behind the bar, a rush of adrenaline racks through you, you could feel the buzz all the way in your fingertips and toes. he’s here, he’s here, he’s here. 

you immediately run to the bathroom, checking your makeup, adjusting yourself in your outfit. he was the last person you’d expect to see tonight, you’ve never seen him here before, haven’t seen him at all since that perfect night you spent together. the past six weeks you couldn’t get him out of your mind, couldn’t stop thinking about his long fingers, long legs, he’s long everywhere. you’d never had a better one night stand — you cursed yourself every day since leaving before he woke up, not leaving him with at least your phone number. but a saturday night spent in a hotel, blocks down from that dingy fucking bar, he definitely didn’t want anything more from you than a quick fuck, never to hear from you again. you could be okay with that, you needed to be okay with that.

“boo, could you grab me a bottle of casamigos from the back?” the main bartender for the night asks as you walk out of the employee bathroom, frantically looking for someone to help her out. 

you pause for a moment, her question ripping you out of your daydream and you nod in response. you hurry to the back, grab a bottle, and make your way out to the bar. 

the spotlight from the dance floor might as well of shone directly on him as he stood at the bar, taller than everyone else, a sore thumb despite his dark clothes. you took a breath, a smile on your face, excitement flooding you. 

“hello there, stranger,” you say as you drop the bottle on the shelf then turn to him, “you guys went through three bottles that quick?” 

he shakes his head, “i like to take my time, you know that.”

“i know that very well, spine breaker,” you plant your palms against the bar, shifting your weight to one foot. behind the bar was slightly staged, that in combination with the heels, yunho’s height didn’t seem as intimidating. 

amusement laced his features, “then why’d you leave? i would’ve taken even longer in the morning,” he quirks a brow and your mouth forms a small ‘o’, that was the last thing that you expected out of his mouth. 

you shrug casually, not believing the words out of his mouth, “that holiday inn wasn’t very… enticing. if you were trying to romance me you should’ve at least taken me to a marriott.” 

this makes a chuckle escape his lips, “my bad, just wanted to get you under me as quickly as possible.” 

an ah leaves your lips with a nod, “which you did, so why are you standing at my bar? can i get you something?” you couldn’t exactly place why your tone turned irritated, you might’ve been hoping for a little more than that. 

“another night with you,” the corner of his lips pull up, a smirk appearing on his face, that same fucking smirk that pulled you under him in the first place. 

a laugh barrels out of your mouth before you can stop it, “go back to your little friends and get away from my bar unless you’re buying me a shot, yunho.” 

your words are leaving your mouth before you can think about them, your mouth moving faster than your brain. the last thing you want is for him to leave, walk away, forget about you. you wanted the same thing he did, even if you wanted more. 

he leans in closer and you fight the urge to step back, his tight jaw and lowered eyes daring you. you don’t give in.

“oh? was that a no?” his expression doesn’t change despite his playful words, “what a shame. i’ll meet you after your shift is over.” 

he turns to walk away and you can feel the heat in your cheeks. you call after him and he turns with a single eyebrow raised, “meet me where?”

“wherever the closest marriott is,” his playful smile returned to his lips, the same one you met him with. it excited you and made you nervous, you weren’t used to meeting hookups at hotels. 

their apartments, whether they live alone or with roommates, yes, but never hotels. it made you feel like a hooker first, and that’s usually a red flag and means someone is married, or worse, still lives with their parents. living in such a huge, expensive city, a hotel for a night isn’t cheap at all whatsoever. you decide not to think about it too much, let yourself bask in the excitement of being with him, and look forward to an entire night dedicated to letting off some steam. 

“who was that?” yunho’s girlfriend asks when he slides into the booth next to her, petting his bicep. her question is full of innocence, her eyes still bright, slightly glazed over with need, definitely from the one or two shots she took in his absence. 

“mingi’s favorite fling at the moment,” he gives her a tight lipped smile and kisses her head, pulling her closer to his side. mingi was always the easiest out, she bought it every damn time. 

the rest of the night he sat with his cute little girlfriend on the booth wrapped around the table, he didn’t see you again. he was fighting to keep his excitement to himself the longer he got away with it — not just his girlfriend seeing you, but you seeing his girlfriend, who wound up basically on his lap the more she drank. his friends drank and danced, the six of them together finished all three bottles, a few of them even moved out to the dance floor instead of their private section. as much as yunho hated places like this, he loved to be with his friends, see them happy, spend time with them in such a carefree environment. 

when it came up on midnight, yunho decided it’d be best to head home, taking his girlfriend with him. she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, which she usually did after a good fuck. after some drinks in her, he knew she was out for the night, she’d sleep through a tornado. not that there would be one in new york city. 

he even had time to shower before he headed out for the night, literally choosing your preferred hotel closest to the club. he got a room and headed over to the bar, having another drink or two before they shut it down for the night. he waited past two, three…

it was 3:45 and he started to lose hope. he realized you’d never even said yes — were you even going to show? did you forget in the craziness of your shift? what time did the club even close? when did you usually get home? these kinds of hours really mess with someone’s sleep schedule. 

every few minutes he’d glance at the glass doors, hoping and praying you’d walk inside. 

ten minutes past 4, you finally did walk through the revolving entrance, and relief rushed through him. ugg slippers, sweatpants, a hoodie and your hair tied up, all he could think is how excited he was to take it all off of you. his skin was burning with impatience, he almost leapt off his seat. 

“i was starting to think you forgot about me,” he starts, a curated smile placed on his cheeks as he slips from the faux leather chair. 

“a part of me didn’t think you were serious,” you respond in the same tone, coming to a still in the middle of the lobby. 

he couldn’t place the emotion in your eyes, you looked unsure, nervous even, from across the lobby. he made it to you in two quick strides, towering over your small frame. 

“yet you still showed up,” he wore the same face from earlier when he stared you down over the bar, eyes low, hungry. he could smell you, nearly taste you on his tongue. you still had your makeup on and he immediately knows there’s no way you had time to wash up, for some reason it made his pants tighter. 

“here i am,” you shrug, picking at your sleeve. you looked so small, your cocky demeanor from earlier far gone, replaced by uneasiness, an emotion he hasn’t seen on you yet. it fed his own power trip, in combination with his figure that completely enveloped your own, he felt on top of the world. like he owned you already. 

he huffed out a small let’s go and grabbed your dainty hand that peeked out of your sleeve, guiding you to the elevator, up to the room. 

“this is nice,” you compliment the suite, blacks and grays and wood accents filling the space. 

“everything you dreamed of?” he sits down on the bed, legs spread, hands behind him. 

“i wouldn’t say that,” a small smile appears on your face as you tuck a stray hair behind your ear, standing awkwardly in front of him. 

“no? after i got exactly what you asked for,” yunho slips a tsk out, tilting his head to the side and his chin up, staring you down from under his eyebrows. 

your giggle is nervous, “that’s not what i meant. i’m just wondering why we’re at a hotel,” your curiosity got the best of you, you physically couldn’t hold the question back, unable to shake the feeling of something being off.

“do you want me to be honest, or lie?” he asks, his voice full of amusement. the question takes you by surprise and you have to think about it for a second, there’s layers to that ask. layers you don’t know if you want to peel, something about his tone makes you not want to know the truth. 

“lie,” your voice is barely above a whisper, and a shiver crawls up your spine. that off feeling must’ve been your gut, fully awake now, talking to you, screaming at you, saying you shouldn’t be here. 

“i live with three guys, don’t wanna keep them up all night,” he licks his lips, the lie so evidently fucking clear on his tongue, the lie you asked for. the lie you needed to go through with this despite your gut begging you otherwise. 

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “that’s nice of you.” 

he shrugs, pulling his hands into his lap, slouching forward ever so slightly, making himself smaller. his body language is intentional, he could read it all over you that you didn’t need to be intimidated, you need to be comforted. feel at ease, feel the want, feel that same primal fucking hunger that was beginning to consume him. 

“i’m a nice guy,” his face contorts, an easygoing smile on his lips instead of that dangerous smirk, “come here, stranger.” 

he uses the same word on you that you used earlier and it evokes a smile from you, a genuine smile, he’s grateful that’s all it takes to crack you open. he didn’t have it in him to try anymore. 

as you take two steps forward he leans back, displaying his lap for you to sit. you wrap around him, your knees hugging his hips, your arms wrapping around his neck. 

“there she is,” his voice is sweet and soft, laced with desire as he looks up to you, shifting himself under you, “been so long.”

you whimper out his name, immediately feeling him press up into you, your eyebrows furrowing. you wanted to be okay with this, wanted to press your gut feeling down, but you couldn’t. 

he mumbled out a hm? as he pressed close mouthed kisses to your jaw, his brain already miles ahead of you. you wanted to say fuck your curiosity, fuck the truth, fuck whatever he’s hiding, but it’s eating at you. you can’t relax in his touch the way you’re desperate to. 

“wan’ you to be honest now,” it was half a moan when it exited your lips, and yunho didn’t miss a beat. 

“no you don’t,” he spits out too fast, the truth keeping itself hidden somewhere beneath his heavy chestnut bangs. his hands traveled up your back, beneath your hoodie, “i missed you, wanna taste you.” 

as his tongue makes contact with the column of your neck you let out a hiss, his touch feeling like electricity, sending your brain elsewhere. 

he could tell. he could read it all over you.

he could feel the stiffness, the discomfort that touched every bone in your body, he was over it. how did he get here? he just wanted to see you again. he shouldn’t of answered that question the way he did and he knows it, but he also is willing to bet his life on the fact that you’ll fold. he can’t find a single scenario where you leave him, all alone in this suite, spending the night by yourself elsewhere. 

he thinks on it for a moment, an evil thought crossing his mind for a second, that one second easily spinning him into a spiral. did you have something else lined up? is that why you wanted to leave so bad? you were seeing someone else after him? an emotion he can’t explain is simmering inside him, something between rage and hurt and the urge to prove himself. he’ll show you why you missed him, why you needed him, why no one else will ever fuck you the way he can. 

he attacks your neck instead, sucking harshly and groping your ass under your sweatpants, making you jolt forward into his chest with a muddled moan. he chuckles in a low tone before picking you up and putting you on your back in one quick motion. you yelp at that, no doubt taking you by surprise, he can’t help but keep laughing. the laughter is dry, it’s knowing, it’s a little menacing, too. 

as he attached his lips onto yours, he can feel you physically melt into him. your body softens, that tension that once sat in your shoulders now gone, your fingers pulling into his hair. 

finally, he thinks. 

once again, jeong yunho’s winning streak continues, and he can’t help the prideful look as he looms over you. 

you audibly said fuck it. 

as long as his lips were on yours, his dick continued to press into your too layered core with experienced fingers touching every bit of your skin, you didn’t fucking care. you didn’t see a wedding ring and, shit, if he did still live with his parents, the hotel room was pretty nice. you could live with that. 

your body felt hot — too fucking hot. you had too many layers on, too much weight on top of you, impatience was crawling up your throat. 

“take this off,” you tugged at his shirt, mumbling between kisses, and he obliged. you took the moment of freedom to strip yourself of your hoodie, unclipping your bra with one hand. 

he watches in amusement, lips glossed over with your spit and a still growing tent in his jeans. you’re thirsty, you’re hungry, you’re itching for him. and he can read it all over you. 

“take it easy, we have all night, princess,” he comments, yet his pupils are blown and his hands immediately flocked to your chest, “such perfect fuckin’ tits.” 

“take it easy, my ass,” you laugh before he shuts you up quick, attaching a slick mouth to one of your nipples, making an involuntary gasp leave your lips. you arch your back and your head digs into the pillow, sizzling hot pleasure coming from every nerve ending, a moan leaving your lips as two fingers wrap around the other and pinch. 

“fuck,” you’re hissing out in pain and pleasure and he switches, soothing the sore one over with a soft tongue, rough fingertips tweaking the other. you buck your hips up and he chuckles into your chest, the vibrations against you only made you moan louder. 

he finally pulls away, looking down at you with hooded eyes that matched your own, paired with a snicker from your reactions, “you gonna survive me this time?” 

you smack his bicep with a laugh, “fuck you.” 

“patience, baby,” is all he responds as he reaches for the waistband of your sweatpants, pulling them down in one swift go. you feel the cool air hit you and you can feel yourself steaming, body too hot for the chill of the room that you didn’t notice until now. 

he peppers open mouthed kisses along your stomach, all wet and messy and hot. you whimpered, your hips bucking again at the stimulation, body craving more. muscle memory took the driver’s seat from the last time you slept with him, your body knew what was to come, and the anticipation was killing you. 

he spreads your legs, a strip of black lace standing between yunho and what he would choose as his last meal. he uses the pad of his thumb to rub you through your underwear, making quick circles across the bundle of nerves. his pressure was too light to get any real friction and you buck and twitch against his thumb, but he catches you before you can get any satisfaction against him. 

“yun, please,” you beg, chest growing hot. your knees are nearly touching the bed from your legs spread so wide, you didn’t have the energy to endure the teasing. 

“please what?” the corner of his mouth lifts, brown hooded eyes full of amusement. you whine, frustration getting the best of you, not a care for what you look or sound like. you needed friction, relief. 

“finger me, eat me out, i don’t care, please,” your words are rushed and breathy, audibly impatient. embarrassment is last on your list of worries right now. 

“yes ma’am,” he nods and pushes your underwear to the side, not even taking the time to fully take them off of you. you mentally thank him for it. 

he’s quick to spread your slick up your slit, letting out a pleased noise at how wet you are. you were wet the second he said the word marriott at the club, it’s been steadily accumulating since, you thought about him and what’s to come nonstop until you clocked out. he pushes a finger inside, hooking it upwards, pulling a guttural moan from inside you, ripping you out of your thoughts. 

your head shoots back into the bed, back arching, hips bucking into his hand for more. his other hand goes to grip onto your hip as you steadily rock against his finger, he’s amazed at how hungry you are for it, how shameless you could be for what you needed. he’s watching with wide eyes, not even pushing back into you, letting you guide yourself to pleasure against him. letting you use him. 

“almost forgot what a fucking slut you are,” his teeth are showing through his wide grin, eyes dark and glossed over. you’re a moaning mess, words already mushing together into something entirely unintelligible, grateful for some form of relief even though its nowhere near what you need from him. 

“only f’you,” you mumble out in between moans, eyes opening to see his gaze strictly focused on your cunt that’s swallowing his finger so greedily, “more, please?” 

“awh, you my nice girl tonight?” he finally meets your eyes, “whatever my girl wants.” 

he leans down and accompanies his finger with his mouth, immediately wrapping his lips around your clit. you yelped out, hands reaching out to tug at his hair, pulling him closer to your throbbing clit. he flattened his tongue against your folds and you started weeping, moans and words combining into a string of noises. 

he added another finger inside you and started at a brutal pace, tongue flicking at your clit at the same rhythm. his fingers curled with each thrust, looking for that sweet, spongy spot inside you. as your fingers tightened around his roots and a loud cry left your lips, he knew he found it. 

“taste so fucking good,” he said into you, not even bothering to look up at you. he was lost in your pretty pussy, the pussy he’s been dreaming about for weeks. the same pussy he’s been wishing for during sex with every other woman since you. now he has you under him, naked and screaming for him once again. yunho was overflowing with satisfaction and pride. 

satisfaction, pride and a lust so great, his cock began aching in his pants. he started grinding against the mattress mindlessly, in the same rhythm as he was using on your cunt, small moans and grunts leaving his lips just adding to your own pleasure. you could feel the familiar knot in your stomach tightening, building steadily. 

the same as him, you’d also been looking for another life-changing fuck since that night you spent together. all the worries you felt earlier were long gone, like they never happened in the first place. all that mattered was yunho and the impending orgasm he was giving you, this is all that was important to begin with. 

“close,” you moaned out, “i’m sofuckingclose yunho don’t stop!” 

he let you have it, let it consume you. it nearly blinded you, your orgasm, your head dug so fucking deep into the mattress and your joints locked up so hard it had you seeing stars on the inside of your eyelids. he guided you through it, steadily pumped his fingers and kept his pattern on your clit until you were thrashing against him, hands pulling up on his hair to get him off of you. 

he had half a mind to keep going, pleasure you through the overstimulation, he needed to see you cum again. with your eyes rolled into the back of your head, back arched up and lethal noises leaving your lips… he could watch it on repeat for days, months, years. it’s his new favorite movie. he let you come down, tore his lips off of you, slowing his fingers movements down to nothing. 

he quickly crawled back up to kiss you, tongue sliding into your mouth, and you tasted yourself happily. your hands trailed up his arms that stood strong beside your head, then down his chest, down to his waistband. your fingers slipped underneath his boxers to grip his length, and the action almost made him cum in his pants, his patience is running too thin. he’s so fucking horny, so blue balled by the mattress he just fucked his hips into like a middle schooler, he needed release and he needed it fast, despite wanting this night to last a lifetime. 

his hips bucked into your hand and you giggled, “i think you missed me.” 

“you have no fucking idea,” is all he responds as he pulls away from you, slipping his sweats down to his ankles and then off of him entirely. you make quick work of getting your panties off, the black lace seeing enough action for one night. you needed to feel him against you, all of him, no barriers. 

“enlighten me then,” you spit into your hand as he crawls above you once more, spreading it all over his already leaking cock. he grunts out, hips twitching, he needed you just as bad as you needed him. 

“missed these fucking tits,” he said as he grabs your chest, squeezing them hard. you kept your pace on his cock, tugging upward, circling your hand around him. 

“missed your pretty face,” he leaned down and planted a kiss on your lips then another on your jawline. 

“missed eating that sweet pussy,” he leaned down, out of reach for you to keep stroking him, and spit on your already too slick cunt while holding your legs up.

“missed fucking you stupid,” he lined himself up, spreading his precum and spit all over your folds. you hissed out, hips bucking to meet him, hoping to push him inside you already. 

“missed hearing you when you cum,” he matched your impatience and pushed inside, met with no resistance, sheathing himself inside you without hesitation. you screamed, screamed so fucking loud the entire hotel probably heard you, not expecting him to fill you so fast. 

“missed that sound, too,” he smiled, bottoming out, and you couldn’t respond. couldn’t do anything but breathe, the sheer length of him overwhelming, stealing your senses. he filled you so good, so right, you couldn’t form thoughts let alone words. primal instinct took over, your body moved before your brain could process. 

“need you to stop squeezing me so i can move, baby,” he grunts out, eyebrows furrowing, “missed this tight pussy too much, all i could think about for weeks.” 

“ho- holy fuck yunho, y’split me fucking open,” you choke out, trying to relax your muscles, trying to get your breathing even. 

“what’s that you called me earlier? spine breaker?” he asked, and his demeanor was too cool, too casual. like being inside of you wasn’t affecting him nearly as much as it was affecting you. you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you nodded, the only response you could muster. 

he chuckled, chuckled, while being balls deep inside you, “that’s a new one.” 

that’s all he said before he started moving. with no warning, if you weren’t sure before that he split you fucking open, you were definitely sure now. you were a screaming mess underneath him as he rutted into you, long fingers hooked under your knees, pressing them toward your head, you only got louder. 

“fucking h-hell, yunho,” you cried out, eyes lolling back again as he fucked into you at a harsh pace. 

“so fucking wet,” his knuckles were turning white at his grip on your legs, pistoling himself at a rhythm only he could keep up with, easily rearranging your insides. 

“you can take it,” he says before you can say a word, he can see your eyebrows furrowed, your moans muzzled down to small sounds of despair leaving your lips. he knows he’s being rough, he knows he’s fucking you harshly, but you’ve taken it before, so you can do it again. 

“yun, i don- i can’t—”

“yes you can,” he encourages, but it doesn’t feel much like encouragement as he only picks up the pace. 

he gives you a second to breathe when he pulls out, but he only flips you over, pulling you up by your hips so you’re on all fours. you hiccup, already reduced to jelly, you don’t know if your legs can withstand the force of his thrusts. 

“slutty little cunt has taken me before, she’ll do it again,” his words are just as harsh as his thrusts as he slips back in, pushing your back down into the mattress with a large hand when it inevitably rises to meet his thrusts. 

your face meets the pillow, turning to the side so you can at least breathe, tears wetting the mattress at his relentless abuse at your cunt. he reaches around your hips and brings a finger to your clit, rubbing quick circles, and god you don't even know what sounds are coming out of you at this point. 

tears and screams are leaving you, but your hips are fucking back on him, meeting his thrusts, and he’s smiling. wide, teeth showing, he’s so prideful. he knew you could do it, take him, take whatever he’s giving you, because you’re a slut. his slut. he won’t let you out of his hands again. 

“f-fuck ‘m close, fuck,” he can hear the sobs through your words, he only wishes he could see the tears that are now soaking the mattress, no doubt ruining your makeup. 

he could feel it in himself too, he was far too close to be fucking you like this. as much as he needed release, he wasn’t ready to cum just yet. he wanted to see you. 

he flipped you back over, slipping back inside you with ease, and your arms immediately hooked around his neck to pull him into a kiss. 

it was sweet, almost soft, the way you were kissing him when the way he fucked you was almost dehumanizing. like you didn’t matter, your pleasure was up to you, yet you both knew that was far from the truth. his thrusts kept up as he kissed you slow, nasty, tongues moving in tandem with another. you were whimpering in his mouth and he could feel you tightening around him, he knew you were close. 

“there you go baby, cum on this cock,” he broke the kiss, keeping your foreheads together, plowing into you with fervor. 

“gonna,” tears still streamed down your face, back arching so your chests met, skin touching skin. he needed you to cum now, he could feel his continence slipping. 

you finally tightened around him, really tightened around him, a high pitched, languid moan leaving your lips. he only repeated yes, yes as you shook against him, creaming around his cock. he finally let his release take him over, burying himself inside you, filling you up. 

you could feel every drop, the warmth spreading through you like wildfire, there was no other feeling like it. it was comforting, being so full, being so heavy with this huge man resting his weight on top of you.

he finally rolls off, laying beside you, catching his breath just as you were. 

“it’s kinda crazy that you came to my club tonight,” you take your hair out of it’s entanglement on top of your head, letting it fall free on the bed, “i really thought i’d never see you again.” 

“i’d never let that happen,” he shook his head, eyes closed as he laid beside you, chest still heaving. 

“what do you mean?” you turned to look at him, “you knew i worked there?” 

“nah, i’m just lucky.” 

[chexnluv]

. , part time , l.hs. (💤)

pairing: colleague ! heeseung × songwriter ! afab reader, warnings: smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, bending over, not proofread, established relationships, wc: 1.3k,

ruby’s note — this is my first post on tumblr, so i do hope you guys like it. reblogs and feedback are always appreciated since i’m still new to writing smuts.

after collaborating on songs for heeseung’s solo album, your late-night studio sessions became more than just work. with every shared glance and lingering touch, the boundaries blurred, leading to intense moments neither of you could resist any longer.

Heeseung murmured, his index finger gently tapping on the line in question. His gaze flicked up to yours, seeking confirmation. “Can you rephrase this part, maybe something more... intimate?” His voice was low and husky, sending shivers down your neck. He leaned closer, your knees touching.

You bit your lip, heart racing at his proximity. “Intimate, huh?” You repeated, trying to keep your voice steady. He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. You cleared your throat and began to scribble down new lyrics, trying to channel the emotions swirling inside you. “How about this?”

Heeseung leaned in further to read over your shoulder. His breath ghosted over your neck, making you suppress a shudder. “Mhm, I like it... But can we make it even bolder?” He whispered, his hand covering yours, halting the pen.

Your breath caught as he intertwined his fingers with yours, his warm touch sending sparks through your system. You met his gaze, seeing the intensity burning within those dark eyes. “Bolder, huh?” You echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “Like... Your touch sets my soul on fire, every kiss is a desperate plea for more. Something like that...” His voice trailed off, and he pressed his lips to the sensitive spot behind your ear. Your grip on the pen tightened, knuckles turning white. “Heeseung... the lyrics...”

Heeseung pulled back slightly, his warm breath still tickling your ear as he spoke. “Let me finish it for you.” He reached out with his free hand, grabbing the pen from yours and continuing to write. His handwriting was messy, but the words he wrote were like nothing you'd ever seen before.

You watched, mesmerized, as he finished the line. “Your touch, your kiss, your love... it's not enough. I need more, I need all of you.” He set the pen down and turned his attention back to you, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you onto his lap.

You gasped, straddling him as he claimed your mouth in a passionate kiss. His hands roamed your body, touching you in ways that made your blood boil. You could feel his arousal pressing against you, and it only served to heighten your own desire. “Heeseung... we shouldn't...”

“Shh...” He silenced you with another kiss, his hands continuing to explore your curves. “Forget about what we should and shouldn't do. Not right now... please?” His voice was a mixture of pleading and commanding, and you found it impossible to resist.

You nodded, unable to speak as he wrapped his arms around you and stood up, carrying you over to the desk. He set you down on the surface, his eyes dark with desire as he looked at you. “Stay here,” he instructed, before getting up and closing the door to the room.

You watched as he locked the door, your heart pounding in your chest. He turned back to you, a wicked smile on his face as he approached the desk. “Now...” he whispered, his hands gripping your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the desk. “where were we?”

You giggled nervously, wrapping your arms around his neck as he leaned in to kiss you once more. His hands slid up your thighs, pushing your skirt out of the way. You felt his touch grow bolder, his fingertips brushing against your core through your underwear.

“Heeseung... oh god...” You moaned softly, arching into his touch. He smirked against your lips, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down. He knelt before you, his eyes locked onto yours as he slowly spread your legs.

Heeseung's fingers traced gentle patterns on your inner thighs, his eyes never leaving yours as he spoke in a hushed tone. “Imagine if our fans found out about this... the scandal would be huge.” His words sent a shiver down your spine, the thought of being discovered both terrifying and exhilarating.

“or what if the company found out?” You whimpered, your voice barely audible as his touch grew closer to where you wanted it most. “They'd probably forbid us from being alone together... no more late-night songwriting sessions, no more stolen kisses...”

Heeseung's hands tightened on your thighs, his face inches away from your most intimate area. “But... they're not here now, are they?” He whispered, his breath hot against your skin. Before you could respond, his mouth found your center, his tongue parting your folds and delving inside.

You let out a cry, your hips bucking against his face as he feasted on you. “Heeseung... if they found out... they'd... they'd fire us...” You panted, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continued to pleasure you.

Heeseung paused for a moment, looking up at you with those deep, dark eyes. “Let them try...” He growled, before returning to his task. His tongue swirled around your bundle of nerves, his fingers slipping inside you. “Because I can't stop now...”

“Oh god... Heeseung...” Your moans filled the room as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. “And... and what if... if we got caught... doing this...” Your voice hitched as his pace increased, your body tensing as your release neared. “They'd...”

“..see everything,” you managed to gasp out, your body shaking as he worked you over with his mouth and fingers. Just as you were about to climax, Heeseung pulled away, leaving you desperate and aching.

He rose to his feet, his chest heaving as he unbuckled his belt. “Maybe they'd see this too...” He murmured, wrapping your hand around his hard length. You looked down, your eyes wide as you took in the sight of your fingers wrapped around his thickness.

“Heeseung...” You whimpered, your body still yearning for release as you stroked him. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. “Or maybe... they'd see this...” With a sudden move, he spun you around and bent you over the desk. “And this...”

He lined himself up with your entrance and pushed inside, filling you completely. You cried out, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk as he began to move. “and... and what if...” You panted, your body swaying with his rhythm. “They found out about this too...”

He grunted, his pace quickening. “Then... they'd know... that no matter what... I had to have you...” His hands gripped your hips possessively, his thrusts deep and powerful. Your moans filled the room, mingling with the sound of his body slapping against yours.

The desk creaked under the intensity of his movements. He leaned over you, his breath hot against your back as he growled, “And maybe... they'd even hear... us... through the walls...” His words sent shivers down your spine, the forbidden nature of their situation heightening your arousal.

Your hands tightened around the desk's edge, your knuckles turning white as he continued to pound into you. The room was filled with the sounds of your combined passion, the scent of sweat and perfume hanging heavy in the air. “Heeseung... please...” You whimpered, your voice barely audible.

“Please what, my darling?” He grunted, his pace relentless. “Please stop? Please be quieter?” He chuckled softly, his breath fanning across your back. “Or please... let me... finish inside you?”

You felt him twitch inside you, his thrusts becoming erratic as he neared his climax. “Yes... please... finish inside me...” You begged, your own orgasm building at the base of your spine. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and spilled his seed into your waiting womb.

His body shook with the force of his release, his hot cum filling you up completely. You collapsed forward, your arms giving out as the desk creaked once more. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close as he struggled to catch his breath. “Mine,”

He whispered in your ear, his voice possessive. “All mine...” You shivered at the tone of his voice, your body still sensitive from your own orgasm. As he slowly pulled out of you, you felt his cum dripping down your thighs. “And I'll make sure... everyone knows it...”

© chexnluv | tumblr

[tragicvampireromanceisland]

they are SILLY!!! and CUTE!!! and UNDERRATED!!! that is all!!! 💛💚

[flowersforbucky]

logan howlett x reader

a late night thunderstorm and some questions about what never was and what could be.

a/n: i don't even know what came over me, i just needed to jot this down and get it out of my system. i'm so fond of the "reader being in love with original logan and then meeting worst logan" trope. may or may not expand on this soon!

warnings/tags: not explicit but mdni, tension and longing, minor angst, no use of y/n, 750 words

“How well did you know him, exactly?”

You knew the question would come. Truthfully, you're surprised he hasn't asked already. And yet, you're still not prepared to answer.

You pour yourself another glass of wine, hoping for an ounce of liquid confidence to get you through this conversation.

The oven timer begins to beep, nearly inaudible over the roar of the wind and rain that beats down against your windows. He watches you from his seat across the kitchen island. Not in a way that makes you feel pressured to respond - there's patience and understanding in the way he looks at you in the dim lighting of your small kitchen.

Well enough to know he deserved more than this life ever gave him.

You think these words, but keep your mouth shut, pursing your lips. Instead, you turn to the oven behind you and quiet the incessant beeping before sliding your hand into an oven mitt and pulling out the roast chicken and vegetables that you had thrown together.

“You don't have to answer that,” Logan says into the thick silence. “I'm sorry. Let's talk about someth–”

“No, it's okay,” you stop him, bracing yourself on the edge of the counter. You're still turned away from him, but you can feel his stare on your backside. You reach up to a cabinet above you, pulling out two plates before turning back to face him.

“I want to talk about him. Really, I do. It's just been a long time since I have.”

He watches as you divide up the food and slide a full plate across the island to him. You can't help but feel a sense of deja vu - you've cooked for this face before. You've served these crinkled hazel eyes this exact meal before, what feels like a lifetime ago.

But for the person sitting before you, this is a first.

“We were close,” you finally continue after clearing your throat, your voice rising an octave on the word close. “Close enough for me to miss him very much.”

You don’t elaborate any further. You don’t tell him of all the almosts and what ifs that run through your mind at the mere mention of his name.

“Is it difficult for you?” he asks in a hesitant voice. “To look at me and see him? To be near me?”

You don’t answer right away. You grab your plate of food and walk around to the other side of the counter, to join him where he sits. You pull out the barstool next to him and sit so that your body is angled towards him. He puts his fork down, giving you his full attention.

The air in the room suddenly feels heavy. You’re close enough that his leg brushes against the side of yours and a shiver runs down your spine.

“Yes,” you admit in a whisper. “It is difficult. But at the same time, I can’t help but want it.”

You can’t quite bring yourself to say you.

“I felt guilty for it at first,” you continue. He watches you with more understanding than you feel you deserve. “For wanting to be around you, to get to know you,” you clarify. “It felt like I was just looking for him in you, and that wasn’t fair to you.”

He extends a hand to where your own rests on your knee. He covers yours with his and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Your eyes flutter closed at the warmth and familiarity and you selfishly hope that he doesn’t pull away.

“But then I got to know you, and I learned all of the ways that the two of you are similar, but more importantly, I learned all of the ways that you're different. And the differences didn't matter to me. I still wanted to be around you just as much. Even more.”

You take your free hand and place it on top of his. You stare down at where your hands are stacked together, tracing a thick vein from his knuckle to his wrist with the tip of your finger.

“I never told Logan how I felt about him. He and I.. missed our chance to be anything more than what we were. I don't want to make that mistake again.”

He brings his other hand to your face, cupping your jawline in his palm. You can't help but melt into the touch. He tilts your face up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“You don't have to.”

•••

thanks for reading 💕💕

follow @flowersforbuckyfics & turn on notifications to stay updated

[gabrielleragusi]

For Artists: My Experience with Commission Platforms and Illustration Agencies

Hi there! I’ve been wanting to compile a list of commission platforms that I’ve personally used for the longest time, and I finally did it! I’ve highlighted the still-active commission platforms in bold and struck those that don't exist anymore so you can jump to the sections that interest you without needing to read my entire story.

Let me start by briefly introducing myself.

I’m Gabrielle, a fantasy illustrator. Since 2014, I’ve been working on book covers and illustrations for publishers, authors, and book subscription boxes. Early on, work wasn’t as frequent as it is now. I had to search for opportunities myself, and even small private commissions were important for building my portfolio and earning some money, which I’d spend on materials, books, and online courses. Like many other artists, I started out by trying my luck with the biggest art community available at the time.

DeviantArt

2009-2018

Once upon a time, there was a virtual haven called DeviantArt. To my teenage self, it was a magical place. I signed up in 2009 and thought I’d never leave!

At first, I created an account just to share my work and learn. I didn’t even think about commissions for four or five years. But when that first inquiry finally landed in my inbox, things took off! My mum swears she remembers my excitement when I got my first commission, but for some reason, I’ve completely forgotten about it. I can't remember what it was or how much it paid. It might have been a portrait of a fantasy character.

Commissions on DeviantArt were fairly frequent, especially considering my cheap prices at the time. I used to offer discounts and post my rates in my DeviantArt journal, or in Commission groups that featured artists either monthly or weekly. After checking out my profile, a client could simply send me a private message and from there, we’d discuss payment, deadlines, and other details, and the platform didn’t take any fees, much like how ArtStation works today. Everything happened through private messages or email, with direct contact between artist and client.

The downside of this process was that there was no dispute resolution system on the platform. I had to handle all issues myself, and unfortunately, problems did arise sometimes: there were clients changing their minds about commissions, asking for refunds after work was delivered, refusing to pay, or just ghosting me. These issues didn’t happen because clients were evil, but rather because I was inexperienced and allowed some to take advantage of my naivety.

However, all that frustration helped me develop my commission process through trial and error (mostly error). And despite the challenges, I can say with satisfaction that most of the commissions I received through my DeviantArt profile were positive experiences.

DeviantArt eventually introduced a commission feature for Core (Premium) users, which came with a platform fee, but I didn’t use it much, and I’m not sure if it still exists.

The real beauty of dA, though, was the connections I made. I was able to meet people, both artists and clients, that I’m still in contact with today, and some of whom I still collaborate with.

I closed my account in 2018 or 2019, but by that time, I hadn’t really used it for a couple of years. The new user interface was a bit of a turn-off for me. I had always loved the geeky, and dare I say cozy, look of the old green and grey aesthetic, with its customisable panels that you could move around and personalise with HTML code... But I digress.

Artists and Clients

2013-2016

While taking small commissions on DeviantArt, I discovered Artists & Clients. It was a nice platform for clients to get things like their D&D characters or groups illustrated for relatively cheap. I think my highest price was $50 for a single character portrait, with the platform taking a 15% cut. I used it for about two or three years before the platform started to change.

As more artists with hentai art styles flooded in, the homepage shifted, and so did the clientele. There’s nothing wrong with drawing naked anime girls, of course, but you can understand that if a client is looking for a fantasy, semi-realistic painting of their female orc character, or a realistic portrait of their spouse, it's more than likely that they won't bother sifting through a sea of anime girls to find the style they want, imagining it isn't here. Let's just say that, at the time, the website took a definite direction that wasn't in line with my genre, but this direction didn't make the different, more realistic art styles stand out either.

Soon, commissions slowed down for me, so I closed my account, but by then I was already working elsewhere.

That said, this platform could still be a useful tool if you’re looking to take on smaller commissions.

DreamUp

2014-2015

DreamUp wasn’t an AI generator back then. It was actually a subsidiary of DeviantArt, where clients could post projects and artists could apply. It was a competitive platform that offered well-paid work–very well-paid. I remember seeing jobs posted that ranged from $300 to $1,200. DreamUp was a very professional platform for clients with a mid to high budget.

I believe I landed my very first book cover commission through this website when I was in my last year of high school. I remember getting the job and going to school the next morning, excited to share the news with my classmates. Everyone was super thrilled for me (we were a really close-knit class!), and I felt like I was walking on air.

Unfortunately, as far as I know, that book was never released, but it didn’t matter because I was moving forward, and fast.

I’m not sure when DreamUp was shut down, but I do know that DeviantArt held onto the copyrighted name, assigning it to something so anti-old DreamUp that it still boggles my mind.

ArtCorgi

Now Artistree

2014-2019

When I received an invitation to join ArtCorgi from its founder, I already had a somewhat consistent portfolio. I was painting portraits and fantasy illustrations, and the clients on this platform were looking for both–your typical wedding and pet portraits, as well as book covers, which were what really interested me. To get to the latter, I had to do the former. Over the years, I’ve painted so many realistic portraits that now I have a strict rule for my own sanity not to do them any more. I have great respect for portrait artists, but it’s just not me.

When I first submitted my prices to the person I was in contact with, she kindly suggested that I raise them... a lot. That was a major step forward in my professional career. I went from charging $50 to $100/$200 overnight. And to my surprise, people actually wanted to commission me at those prices!

From 2014 to 2019, I took nearly every commission that came my way. I never spoke directly with the clients; all instructions and feedback went through my point of contact, which helped maintain a level of professionalism, although now that I’m used to working directly with clients, I’m not sure I’d want to go back to having an intermediary.

Sadly, as with all good things, this chapter came to an end. My point of contact eventually left communication in the hands of someone else, and shortly after, the commission fee changed to, I believe, 30%.

Simply put, 30% is an unrealistic cut for a website like this. For an agent that gets you all kinds of big work in the publishing industry, sure, but since this was not the case I had to stop taking commissions. Despite that, my overall experience with ArtCorgi was very positive.

Today, ArtCorgi joined another platform, Artistree. As far as I can tell, Artistree doesn’t take any fees from artists, with clients covering a small cost instead.

Sketchmob (?)

2016-2020

This was probably the platform I used the most. I’ve lost count of how many commissions I received through Sketchmob. Many. Enough to generate a steady income at the time. With reasonable fees and a variety of art styles available, clients contacted me almost daily. Communication was direct between artists and clients, and payments could be split. The review system also worked very well… for a while.

Once I raised my prices, requests became fewer and farther apart. But by then, I was already working with my own clients.

Is this platform still active? Who knows. The website is still up and the chat feature works, but I’ve seen users complain that money available for withdrawal never arrived via PayPal (the only payment method the platform accepted, if I remember correctly). Personally, I wouldn’t risk completing a job through Sketchmob right now, at least not until they release an update.

If you’ve used the platform recently and successfully received payment within the last six months, please let me know, and I’d be happy to update this section!

Upwork

2017-2019

In 2017, I was determined to break into the book publishing industry. After trying out Fiverr and Freelancer.com with no success (the competition was too fierce for someone just starting out), I decided to give Upwork a shot. The platform looked very professional, and while the process sounded a bit complicated, I wanted to land the interesting projects I saw featured in my category. I really wanted to work with a big client… but big clients didn’t seem to want me, despite having the Rising Talent badge.

In two years of bidding for jobs and submitting proposals, I only landed two projects: a small commission from a private client who actually reached out to me, and another project that I bid on.

Don’t get me wrong, I was ecstatic at the time and truly appreciated every opportunity that came my way. But looking back, I can see why Upwork didn’t work out for me. The platform just wasn’t the right fit for my style and niche, which is fantasy illustration. Graphic design, however, was (and still is) in much higher demand.

The commission process on Upwork wasn’t as simple as on other platforms. For instance, at the time, costs were calculated hourly, which was a challenge for someone like me who prefers working with flat fees (having already calculated my average hours spent on an illustration). From what I’ve seen, this has since changed.

One positive aspect of Upwork is its current 10% cut on what artists earn. I don’t recall if this has changed over the years, but 10% is quite reasonable in my experience. Of course, 0% would be even better, but for a platform as large as Upwork, 10% is fair.

Illustration Agency

2019-2021

By 2019, I had built a solid, consistent portfolio thanks to my personal work and commissions. I had a simple website in place, my Instagram following was growing… I was steadily working toward my goal of illustrating covers for big publishers (which didn't happen until two years ago).

So, when an illustration agency reached out to me one day, I was over the moon. I had always heard that artists were the ones who had to approach agencies, not the other way around.

Well, that should have been my first red flag.

I won’t name this agency because, unfortunately, I have nothing positive to say about it. In fact, the word “nothing” perfectly describes my involvement with them. Nothing came of this barely there experience.

The agency invited me to sign up, not on an exclusive basis, but they assured me they’d get me work. That work never came. Once in a while, I’d receive messages saying they were trying to pitch my portfolio to a French publisher or another client, but... nothing.

Please understand that meanwhile I was already working directly with shops and authors, so I don’t believe my portfolio was the problem. The real issue was something I didn’t realise at the time: some agencies do this. They feature talented artists in their catalogue without having actual clients lined up, just to appear more professional and credible to potential clients. Did this strategy work for them? Maybe. I’ll never know.

In 2021, I politely asked them to remove my portfolio from their website, and that was the end of it.

After that, I never actively sought out an agent again. By the time my portfolio was strong enough to approach a serious agency, I just didn’t need representation anymore.

Hireillo

2019-2022

My experience with Hire an Illustrator, or Hireillo, is mixed. At the time, Hireillo was a platform that hosted artists' portfolios, featured artist-submitted news, provided useful articles, resources, and directories of artists and agents. I joined the site hoping to catch the eye of publishers, but I was mostly contacted by authors and one fellow artist for a graphic novel.

Unfortunately, most inquiries didn’t go beyond the first couple of messages due to budget constraints. I did, however, have fun sharing news about my painting process and projects I landed on my own, which were often featured by the website. Additionally, if I had questions about 'complicated' things like copyright, or just needed advice, I could ask the website’s owner and that was incredibly helpful.

Despite these benefits, I didn’t see any real results, which was a little disappointing. The subscription fee was also... odd, for lack of a better word. $5 per week. In the end I just couldn’t justify the cost, so I stopped using the website altogether.

Reedsy

2019-2022

Finally, we come to the turning point.

I remember stumbling upon Reedsy randomly. It wasn’t very well known at the time, and I think it still isn’t. I was nervous when I submitted my portfolio because their catalogue features the best of the best: designers who’ve created covers for bestsellers, THE bestsellers, people who’ve worked on Stephen King covers, or George R.R. Martin's. Designers, editors, and marketers who are veterans. I didn’t have high hopes for my application. So, I was in shock when it got accepted.

I had an introductory Skype call with a representative from Reedsy, who explained how everything worked. Before the call ended, I remember asking if there was a good chance I’d get work through the platform. The rep laughed and said, “Yes.”

A few weeks in, I understood that laugh.

Reedsy has an overwhelming demand for book covers and commercial projects. For every designer there are many more clients. In peak seasons, I was getting requests almost every day. I’m not exaggerating.

Reedsy transformed my portfolio and my pricing structure. Thanks to the income I earned through the platform, I was finally able not to take everything that came my way but be selective and choose only the projects that really interested me.

The commission process is simple: artists pretty much decide how to split payments, what to include in agreements, and the best part, the most beautiful and helpful feature of all, they can request and adjust deadlines. For someone like me who's terrible with deadlines, this feature was a lifesaver. The admins are also very kind and responsive, available via email or chat.

Unfortunately (this is my last 'unfortunately', I promise), my time on Reedsy came to an end for personal reasons. I’ll explain since it’s no secret.

All my images on Reedsy were watermarked with my signature (my full name), which apparently violated the platform’s rules. Why? Because if a client saw my last name, they could contact me directly and bypass Reedsy, which meant the platform lost potential fees. I’ll admit this did happen a few times, but I had the good sense to redirect the client back to Reedsy.

After three years, an admin finally noticed and asked me to remove my full name from the watermark and any text on my profile. It was a simple and reasonable request, but here’s where the problem started. Profiles on Reedsy are public, and images appear in search engines like Google Images, meaning anyone could download my work and use it without permission. Sure, watermarks can be removed, but uploading my work without one in the first place felt like a bad idea. Btw, not only do I use watermarks, but I also use Glaze to protect my illustrations before sharing them online.

Anyway, for this reason, and also because I couldn’t get over the fact that full names were public at the time, something I won’t get into because, believe me, I tried over email, and my reasons went into the void (now, last names are just initialised, like Gabrielle R. Okay. Sure.), I had to close my account–they would have done it anyway because it was already 'flagged'.

Overall, if you’re willing to overlook the last name conundrum, I can’t recommend Reedsy enough. If you have a killer, solid portfolio and a love for books and editorial projects, go for it!

--------------------------------------------

I hope you'll find this useful! If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask (: Oh, and here's an old article I wrote in 2020, titled:

Tips to freelance illustrators to avoid being screwed over

Who knows, maybe I'll write another 'article' post in four years!

Instagram  - ArtStation - Website - Inprnt - Etsy - TikTok

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

*Astarion drunkenly stumbles up to a sleeping Esme in the middle of the night and snuggles up behind her*

E: Mmm? Astarion?

A: Hello darling. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.

E: Hm, you smell like bear.

A: And you smell divine.

E: You're not feeding on me love, you're clearly drunk. You don't need more.

*she says through a sleepy giggle*

A: You wound me! I came to be close to you. I'm a bit cold.

E: Get close then, warm up.

*Astarion nuzzles into the back of her neck and wraps his arm around her, planting soft kisses onto her while she falls back asleep*

[bluishfrog]

[fuck-customers]

I just need to vent about something that happened last week.

I work for an Airline at a small airport. Couple weeks ago, we had a flight come in, pretty late due to delays in the plane’s route. When it landed, it was super late, and the Pilots were going to time out. For some reason the Airport’s Weather system was down

Ops told us to proceed as normal. Pilots didn’t notify us anything was wrong until the end. We had all the bags loaded and passengers on and THEN they decide to tell us something is wrong :)))

Pilots time out, and the flight is pushed back to the next morning and we have to remove all the bags and passengers. Reaccommodate or refund those that want those options.

We unloaded the bags, and my coworker takes them to the baggage carousel. Then I go help unload the plane. Eventually it comes down to the wheelchair passengers, who always come off last. I took care of 5 of them. One at a time. Took them to the baggage carousel helped them get their bags, and take them to their cars separately. All 5, by myself

That matters because, once I help the final wheelchair passenger, my coworker that was putting the bags on the carousel takes off the bags that weren’t picked up, and drives them to our office so we can contact the passengers about their bags so they can get them.

As I come back inside after helping the final wheelchair passenger to their car, I hear a shrill yell from a woman standing by the Carousel. She yelled out to me asking where her bag was. I TRIED to tell her that after a bag has been on the carousel too long we take it off and back to our office. I say tried because she kept cutting me off yelling “Where’s my bag?”

This woman, who was not a wheelchair passenger, and was sitting in the front of the plane, so she was one of the FIRST to get off the plane, did not make it to baggage claim in time to get her bag. In the time it took to unload all 155 Passengers including the 5 Wheelchairs I did on my own at the VERY END, she was the only one not able to get her bags.

At this point it was 2 AM, I had been up since 6 AM, I was so close to just telling her to fuck off. But I bit my tongue and kept a professional attitude.

Once I was able to tell her that it’s being taken to our office, and if she follows me to the ticket counter I can help her. And she starts going off on me, asking why couldn’t we just leave it there. Why we take it back to the office, don’t we know they’re coming?

I did my best to keep calm and tell her that if she just comes with me to the ticket counter I can give her her bag.

I tried to explain our policy at the airport. First, we can’t just leave bags unattended, because we have to treat it as a threat or it could get stolen.

Then she asked why we can’t just pull it off and stand there with it. They do it at X Airport that is 10 times larger with 20 time more employees.

I explained to her we are not allowed to, it is airport policy and we could lose our SIDA privileges and even get a ticket. And on top of that, we are a team of 6 fucking people. We do not have the man power.

Eventually we make it back to the counter. I tell her to wait there as I go into the back to find her bag. I’m going through the bags left behind, I’m back there for less than a minute. Then comes this loud banging on the door.

She walked behind the ticket counter, and started slamming on the door so she could get her bag. She couldn’t even wait the 2 minutes it took me to find it.

I grab it, then go to the door she’s slamming. I open it and she almost hits me because she’s mid bang.

I ask her very politely not to do that or I will have to call the police. She just scoffs and asks for her bag. I ask for her ID to confirm the bag is hers, and she’s about to lose it. She was ready to blow and I was very much done with the situation. She started going off about how bad this airport was and how she’s going to blast us on social media.

She kept asking why we could take her bag to the back but not have anyone watch it at the carousel like Airport X does. I told her what I did before, We are not allowed to, it is airport Policy, and we don’t have the man power.

She said “No you just don’t care”

I was 🤏 this close to blowing up on her. I wanted so badly to lay into her. But I didn’t. I just kept calm, centered myself, and just let her go on with her day. Thankfully there were other passengers that saw and were understanding and helpful to me.

Anyway once that was all done I got her itinerary number and had her black listed from our airline. :)

I know I’m preaching to the choir here, but please for the love of god, if your flight gets canceled, don’t take it out on the ground crew. We want you gone just as badly as you do. We lose money on canceled flights, we lose hours, and it just makes our lives harder.

If you know anyone that acts like the ground crew has ANY control over the operations of the airline and abuses them, please slap some sense into them.

Posted by admin Rodney

[callmedaleelah]

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— look at this idiotic fool that you made me ; cherish every seconds you have cause you never know when it’ll turn upside down

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

The night stretches long and silent, cloaking your room in a stillness that feels both comforting and stifling. You've been lying there for hours, staring at the white ceiling, tracing invisible patterns with your eyes, trying to will yourself to sleep. But the quiet isn't enough to lull you into rest. Your thoughts keep drifting back to the dinner, the awkward exchanges, the warmth in Tsukishima's gaze that you can't seem to shake.

You roll over in bed, pulling your blanket tighter around your shoulders, your pink pajamas soft against your skin, but they offer no comfort tonight. The room feels empty now that your parents are gone, their voices and presence lingering only in your memory. It’s strange, this quiet solitude—something you used to cherish before all these new feelings started creeping into your heart.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, the bright screen cutting through the darkness. You grab it, blinking to adjust your eyes, and frown when you see the name on the screen.

Tsukishima ; You still up?

Your heart skips a beat, confusion mingling with curiosity. It’s late—much too late for him to be messaging you, especially after saying goodbye to your parents just hours ago. Without thinking, your fingers move swiftly across the screen.

Yeah, why?

His reply comes almost instantly, making your pulse quicken: I’m outside the building. Can you meet me here?

You sit up abruptly, the blanket pooling around your waist as your mind tries to process what he just said. Outside? At this hour? You rub your eyes and glance at the clock—it’s almost midnight. What could he possibly want? For a second, you consider ignoring it, but curiosity gets the better of you.

Throwing the blanket off, you slip your feet into your slippers and grab your student ID before rushing out of your room, your footsteps muffled by the carpeted hallway. The dormitory feels eerily quiet, the soft hum of the heating system the only sound accompanying you as you reach the entrance. The cold air hits you the moment you step outside, and you shiver, cursing yourself for not grabbing a jacket.

Then you see him. Tsukishima, standing just outside the entrance, bathed in the dim glow of the streetlights. He’s wearing his usual hoodie, hands buried deep in his pockets, his head tilted slightly as he waits for you. His tall frame is relaxed, yet there’s an intensity in the way he looks at you that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice a little breathless from both the cold and the sudden rush of adrenaline. You cross your arms over your chest, trying to retain some warmth.

Tsukishima’s eyes scan you from head to toe, lingering for a second on your pajamas before meeting your gaze. “It’s cold out here,” he says simply, his voice steady, but there’s an undertone you can’t quite place.

You blink, confused. “Yeah, I know. It’s almost midnight. Why—?”

“And yet you didn’t wear a hoodie before heading out?” He cuts you off, his eyes narrowing slightly as if your lack of common sense is somehow personal to him.

Your mouth opens and closes, flustered by his bluntness. “I—I didn’t think I’d need one. I didn’t plan on staying outside long,” you mumble, suddenly feeling exposed under his sharp gaze.

Tsukishima sighs, the sound filled with mild exasperation, but before you can protest, he’s already unzipping his hoodie. The fabric rustles softly in the quiet night as he drapes it over your shoulders, his hands brushing against your arms as he adjusts it on you. The warmth from his hoodie seeps into your skin, and you’re enveloped in the faint scent of him—clean, slightly musky, with a hint of something fresh and familiar.

You stand there, frozen, as Tsukishima takes it a step further and zips up the hoodie for you, his fingers lingering on the zipper for a beat too long before he steps back. His silence feels like a command, one you don’t dare disobey.

He doesn't say anything, but the way his eyes linger on you makes your heart race. It’s as if he’s silently telling you to wear it—no arguments. You swallow, nodding slightly, unsure of how to respond.

“Come on.” His voice is softer now, as he reaches for your hand, the warmth of his palm sending a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold. He tugs you gently, guiding you toward his car parked a few feet away.

You follow, too stunned to speak, your mind still reeling from the sudden shift in his demeanor. The wind whips through the open space, biting at your cheeks and making your hair whip around your face. Tsukishima, always composed, doesn’t flinch from the cold, his steps measured and steady as he opens the passenger door for you.

You hesitate for a second, looking at him with wide eyes, but he merely raises an eyebrow, silently urging you to get in. You comply, sliding into the seat as he shuts the door behind you with a quiet click. The interior of his car is warm, a stark contrast to the frigid air outside. You watch as he walks around to the back seat, retrieving something before climbing into the driver’s seat beside you.

When he sits down, there’s a small bakery box in his hands. You tilt your head, confused again, until he opens it to reveal two chocolate muffins, each with a small candle sticking out of the top.

Your mouth drops open slightly. “What…?”

“You didn’t get to eat your cake at dinner,” he explains, his voice casual as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter. “So I brought you something.”

You stare at the muffins, your chest tightening with a mixture of surprise and something else you can’t quite name. “You…did this for me?”

He lights the candles one by one, the soft glow illuminating his face as he nods. “Your mom isn’t around, so you can eat this without her knowing, right?”

His words make you laugh, a light, breathless sound that escapes before you can stop it. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away quickly, smiling at him through the soft haze of candlelight.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you whisper, your voice catching in your throat as the weight of his gesture sinks in.

Tsukishima shrugs, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. “Make a wish.”

You stare at him for a moment, your heart swelling with gratitude and something deeper, something you’re not quite ready to name. Then, closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and make a wish, blowing out the candles as the soft flames flicker and die.

When you open your eyes, Tsukishima is watching you, his expression unreadable, but there’s a softness in his gaze that makes your chest tighten all over again. And in that quiet, intimate moment, surrounded by the warmth of his hoodie and the dim glow of the candles, you realize something: you’re no longer alone in the dark.

The warm glow from the streetlamp outside cast a gentle light into the car, highlighting the small, cozy space you shared with Tsukishima. You reached into the box with a soft smile, pulling out the first muffin and holding it toward him.

“Here’s the first one for you,” you teased lightly, eyes sparkling. “You get to eat first ‘cause you’re special.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a teasing smirk. “I do?” He placed a hand over his chest dramatically. “Well, thank you, I’m honored.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his playful response. That sweet laugh—the one that always escaped when you felt at ease, when it was just the two of you. You took a bite of your muffin, the flavor melting in your mouth. “Oh wow, this is so good. Where did you get these?”

Tsukishima hummed in acknowledgment, swallowing his bite before answering. “You won’t be able to get these again,” he began, his tone casual but hinting at something more thoughtful, “I found a random cake shop still open late—“

“All for me?” You interrupted him, grinning cheekily as you leaned in a little closer, the air between you becoming more playful, yet intimate.

Tsukishima sighed softly, shaking his head with a small smile. “Yeah… all for you.”

The silence that followed was comfortable, the kind of silence that felt like a warm blanket draped over the two of you. As you ate your muffins, you exchanged small, shy glances, and each look seemed to speak louder than words could. There was something special in the air tonight—something you both felt but weren’t quite ready to address.

Just as you were about to take another bite, Tsukishima’s voice dropped to a low whisper, catching you by surprise. “Have I told you this before?” he began, his gaze softening as he looked at you, “you have a really beautiful smile.”

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as his words hung in the air. His eyes held a sincerity that made your chest tighten. You blinked, feeling your cheeks flush. “No, you haven’t… but thanks,” you replied shyly, your fingers nervously playing with the muffin wrapper. “You… you have a really nice smile too,” you added, your voice barely audible as you glanced at him bashfully.

Without realizing it, the space between you had slowly diminished. His presence felt closer, warmer, as if the barrier that had always been there had quietly melted away. You couldn’t help but admire the way his glasses framed his face, how his soft eyelashes cast delicate shadows across his skin. His nose scrunched slightly, his brow furrowed in that usual way when he was concentrating, yet somehow, you’d never noticed before how undeniably handsome he was.

Before you could fully process your thoughts, Tsukishima’s hand gently reached out. His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind your ear with a tenderness that made your heart race. The pad of his thumb softly caressed your cheek, and your breath caught in your throat at the sudden contact.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath but carrying so much warmth, so much meaning.

Your lips curled into a soft smile as you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a brief moment, savoring the simple happiness that bubbled in your chest. You had never felt this kind of joy before, a joy that was soft and warm, that made you feel completely seen—like you mattered in ways you hadn’t realized until this very moment.

Then, Tsukishima handed you another small box. You blinked, confused at first, before your curiosity took over. “What’s this?” you asked, a mix of excitement and surprise coloring your voice.

He gave you a lopsided grin. “Your present—obviously,” he said with his usual teasing edge, though there was a softness to his tone now, an almost shy undertone.

You opened the box, and inside was a delicate bracelet. Its design was simple yet elegant, a perfect reflection of your style. You gasped, eyes widening as you stared at it, then back at him. “No way, seriously?” You covered your mouth with your hand in disbelief, your heart swelling with joy.

Tsukishima chuckled softly, his fingers gently taking the bracelet from the box as he clasped it around your wrist. His touch was light, but the simple action sent a jolt of warmth through you. “Do you like it?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

“I love it!” you exclaimed, your excitement overflowing as you reached out and squeezed his hand without thinking. “Thank you so much.”

He didn’t say anything, just smiled—a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. And in that moment, your gaze locked with his, and the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. The silence between you was no longer awkward or empty—it was filled with something unspoken but deeply understood.

Your fingers, almost on their own, intertwined with his. You squeezed his hand gently, feeling the nervous energy building inside you, but it wasn’t the kind of nervousness that made you uneasy. It was the kind that made you feel alive, like something important was about to happen.

You opened your mouth, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “I like you,” you whispered, the confession hanging in the air between you. Your voice trembled slightly as you continued, feeling your heart pound against your chest. “I don’t know when it started, but… you always make me feel seen. I… I really like you, Tsukishima. I can’t stop thinking about you, and sometimes I feel like my heart’s going to burst because it’s all just too much. I—”

You stopped abruptly, noticing the subtle shift in his expression. His teasing smile had vanished, replaced by something unreadable. Slowly, he pulled away from you, retreating back into his seat, his gaze now fixed on the windshield. The warmth that had filled the car moments ago suddenly felt cold, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Your heart dropped, and you blinked rapidly to push away the sting of tears. “I… I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have said that. You don’t have to say anything. I—”

You swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. The awkwardness hung thick in the air, suffocating your chest. You glanced at him, hoping for any response, but Tsukishima remained silent, staring out of the window.

Feeling a sharp pang of rejection, you hastily removed his hoodie, folding it neatly before opening the car door. “Thanks for tonight,” you murmured, your voice wavering. “I—really appreciated it.”

Before he could respond, you stepped out of the car and shut the door, your legs carrying you swiftly back to the dorm. Tears blurred your vision as you reached the building, your heart aching with every step.

By the time you reached your room, your heart felt heavy, and the thoughts spiraled in your mind. You threw yourself onto the bed, burying your face in the pillow.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you muttered to yourself, replaying the events of the night over and over again. All this time, you thought you had seen something in his actions—the compliments, the gentle moments, the way he seemed to go out of his way to help you. But now… you weren’t so sure.

Was it all in your head? Was Tsukishima just being kind, and you had misread the signs? You weren’t sure of anything anymore, except for one thing: your heart ached with every beat.

The dorm room felt colder than usual as you curled into a tight ball on your bed, hugging your knees close to your chest. The bracelet on your wrist shimmered faintly under the low light of your lamp, reminding you of the bittersweet memory that had unfolded just moments ago. Your confession replayed in your mind—over and over again—each repetition twisting your heart a little tighter.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push away the embarrassment that bubbled up inside you. Tsukishima’s silence, his sudden retreat, it all played like a bad dream. And now, you weren’t even sure if you could face him again.

Burying your face into the pillow, you let out a frustrated groan, “Why did I say that? Why now?”

But no matter how many times you questioned it, the truth remained: you liked him. There was no denying it anymore, no pretending that your feelings weren’t there. They were real, and they had spilled out of you like water breaking through a dam.

Maybe you should’ve waited. Maybe you should’ve held back a little longer, but then, how much longer could you have gone pretending that your heart didn’t skip a beat every time he smiled at you?

tagslist (free to mention) ; @theweirdfloatything @snowthatareblack @ilovemymomscooking @nayiiryun @knightofmidnight @kozumesphone @scxrcherr @thechaosoflonging @monya-febrjack

[kings-highway]

haikyuu ships but its ways they said "i love you" before they had the courage to say "i love you."

daisuga: Suga's favourite movie of all time doesn't really mesh with Daichi. He thinks it's confusing and weird, and the gore is way over the top. But Suga loves it, and the comfort it provides, especially when he's sick, so Daichi always watches it with him even if he hates it. "Why do you always agree to this?" Suga asks, as Daichi's settling in to ride out another viewing. "Because it's something you love," he replies, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

iwaoi: Iwaizumi doesn't think he's ever going to convince Oikawa that he's the best setter, or that he's worked hard enough, or that he doesn't need to compare himself to everyone else. But he hates the way Oikawa can't seem to find value in himself outside of some seemingly fickle ranking system in his mind. So when they're fighting, and Oikawa keeps saying that it's just "objective fact" that Tobio is better than him, Iwa has to grab him by the face and tell him: "I won't let you slander things I care about."

ushiten: Tendou had often made the joke about being Ushijima's best friend, because it was funny. All their team, their classmates, always laughed. "He's my bestest bud," Tendou would say, because the whole school knew they made a funny pair, and it was laughable to think Ushijima would ever articulate a sentiment as juvinile as "best friends." Of course, when Ushijima realizes that people find this joke funny, he's very confused. "If it is a matter of not being good enough for you," Ushijima says, because he cannot think of a reason anyone would disparage Tendou, so it must be joke at his own expense, "then I will earn it."

kagehina: Hinata gets injured late in their second year. Its not the worst injury in the world and will heal just fine, but it takes him out of practice for a few weeks at the beginning of summer. He expects Kageyama to forget about him during this time. What good is a spiker who can't jump, can't even practice? But that doesn't happen. Kageyama seems to, if Hinata's not mistaken, dote on him. Carries his stuff, scolds him for not elevating the offended ankle properly, tells him to be careful. "Why are you being so fussy?" hinata asks. "Because I can't stand the idea of you not making a perfect recovery," Kageyama replies. "Who else could keep up with me?"

tsukkiyama: Yamaguchi likes to tease Tsukki over his lack of other friends. "You're too mean, you scare them away!" and "You're gonna have one lonely birthday if the only person who bothers to show up is me!" The last time he said this, though, Tsukki had replied with: "You're enough." and Yamaguchi still hasn't quite gotten over it yet. They celebrate his birthday just the two of them that year.

arankita: Aran came over to help on the farm over spring break. He didn't have to - between you and me, he hated that kind of physical labour anyway - but it was a way to spend a little more time with Kita before they graduated. At the end of the break, Kita surprises him by giving him a key to the house, "for emergencies," just in case. When Aran blusters and tries to ask why, Kita says: "I trust you." Considering Kita has never trusted anything except for himself and his own actions, Aran isn't sure any spoken sentiment could have meant more in that moment.

[jogetsobsessed]

One Night - Paul Lahote x reader

She's backkkkk! I know this isn't what you want, however, this survived the great laptop crash of 2024 (unlike the half-finished prophecy pt2 doc). This however is cutie in my opinion and I would be open to writing a part 2 (if anyone wants it). Also, I'm almost to 200 followers which is so crazy? Thank you for all the love!

---------------

“No, no, no, no”, you wailed as you looked at your hands. They were shaking as you clutched the plastic, the plus sign clear as day. Your body slumped down the wall of the bathroom, your body curling into itself as you hit the ground. 

What are you going to do? 

You were young, too young in your life to start thinking about starting a family. It's not even like you were seeing anyone. This whole situation came about after you had a bad day and just wanted to forget. To forget life and all your problems. 

You let yourself have fun, with someone you only kind of knew.  At the time that had seemed like the best plan. You knew of him and had met a few times through your friend Emily. It was better than prowling on some meaningless app that you would just delete the next morning. He was nice to look at, extremely cocky, kind of an asshole to everyone else, but always kind to you. 

The few times you had met Paul Lahote before your night of fun he had never gone out of his way to talk to you but that was okay with you. All the other boys that hung around Emily’s house could be way too much. Just dropping her off after work would lead to you being pulled into a two-hour conversation because none of them knew when to shut up. Paul however would always hover on the porch or somewhere else in your eyeline. He never came up to join the conversation but never left his spot of isolation either. 

So after a bad day at the clinic, Emily invited you back to her place for a drink and you accepted. Emily was your friend, one of the only actual friends you had made since moving to the Forks area six months prior. But you haven't spent much time together outside of work, except for riding to and from the clinic. 

But this shift had been so rough on both of you that you needed to vent to each other and get something in your system to make you forget a little. Cut to hours later neither of you notice her fiance and his friends walking in the house to you and Emily losing it on the couch, clutching your sides from how hard you were laughing. 

It wasn't even the alcohol necessarily, the two of you had split a bottle of wine but that wasn't enough to get you messed up to the point of uncontrollable laughter. No, it was finally being able to relax in good company, let loose and enjoy yourself. 

The boys had just snickered at the two of you, Emily’s fiance ushering them back into the kitchen to give the two of you some space. However, at some point, hunger struck and the kitchen was calling your name. 

Emily had declared nachos as the snack of choice and you couldn't agree more. She had charged through the sea of testosterone while you decided to timidly hug the doorframe, not knowing where to place yourself down. The kitchen was full of Sam’s friends and there wasn't a place to sit. You were thinking of slipping into the kitchen and leaning against the counter while Emily assembled plates of goodness.

That was until a particular tanned-skin boy stood up and very subtly gestured towards the chair. A sudden confidence had taken over you, and you certainly can blame that on the wine. Crossing the room in just a few paces you lower yourself onto the previously occupied seat and join the rowdy group at the table. 

Looking up you gave him a silent look of thanks as he stood, leaning his back against the countertop. He reciprocated a small smirk before returning his attention to the intense game of spoons that the other boys were trying to rope you into. 

After that, the night was a blur. You had played a few rounds of the card game, Emily eventually joining with heaping plates of nachos, placing herself in her fiance's lap. Paul had disappeared momentarily, reappearing with an old wooden stool, sitting directly to your left. 

You tried to focus on everything happening, but it was no use. All you could think about was that simple gesture of kindness. The act of chivalry that no doubt was gonna earn him some teasing from his buddies, which is what made it and him so much more attractive. 

Thoughts of the beautiful man plagued your mind the whole night and when he offered to drive you back home at the end of the night you accepted. He blamed it on the fact that he wouldn't feel right if he let you drive home after drinking, even if it was just a few glasses of wine and that had been hours ago. 

Even though you felt completely sober at this point as it had been hours and you had eaten your fair share of nachos you obliged, how could you pass up the opportunity for one of the most attractive men you had laid eyes on in a long time to drive you home? 

Attractive and chivalrous, two things he had going for him. 

The ride home was nice, the windows rolled down, and your hair flowed in the breeze. He drove smoothly and slowly, taking the winding corners with ease. A song that occupied the radio 24/7 played, and you were in such a state of comfort that you allowed yourself to sing along softly. 

It was weird, you barely knew this man, yet you felt so comfortable around him. Being in his presence was easy. 

Once your headlights illuminated the front of your modest home you felt your heart sink. This was it, your night of bliss was going to end. He threw the truck in park, turning to face where you sat. He opened his mouth, to say what you have no idea because you cut him off before he got the chance to speak. 

“Do you wanna come in?”. 

--------------

That night had been six weeks ago. And since then you hadn't seen or heard from him once. Not that you had reached out much. The last thing you needed was to make things awkward and complicated with a friend of a friend. 

Only now things were gonna have to be awkward and complicated, it was sorta unavoidable. 

Time paused as you sat there on the bathroom floor. Staring at the pinked-capped stick. Part of you wished you hadn't taken the test, even if that would have just avoided the inevitable for a few days, maybe a couple of weeks. 

Your head was reeling as you attempted to comprehend the news. On one hand, you had always wanted to be a mom and had dreamed of it. However part of the dream was a perfect house, a perfect job, and a perfect husband. Someone that loved you and supported you. Having a baby daddy that you hardly knew wasn't exactly in the picture. 

------------

At some point your body went on autopilot, you picked yourself off the ground and went through the motions of getting ready for the day. You didn't know what you were getting ready to do, you had already called out after you had woken up before the sun to empty your stomach of last night's dinner. 

The brain fog seemed to slightly lift once you were closing your car door, clutching the steering wheel as your life preserver. The pregnancy test in your pocket feels as if it weighs a thousand pounds. 

You felt insane. 

Who were you to go to this man who you barely knew and just throw this information at him, even if he deserved to know? Because this was his burden too. This wasn't an instance of immaculate conception, it took both of you to get into this situation. 

Recalling an earlier conversation with Emily where you had not so subtly asked what Paul did for work you remembered her mentioning the name of the garage. 

Since today simply could not get more insane you decided to embrace the insanity and started the drive towards the reservation. 

You practiced what you were gonna say over and over, but nothing sounded right. 

“Hey, remember me? I'm the girl you slept with once and ghosted, well I'm pregnant”. 

“Paul, remember me? Y/N, yeah so you kinda got me pregnant”. 

“Hey so remember when I told you that you didn't need a condom, well I say dumb things I don't mean when I’m around pretty people”. 

You were so screwed. 

----------

The parking lot was practically empty because of course, it was. Of course, there wouldn't be enough cars for you to blend in and hide for a little bit to gather your confidence. No besides your car there were only three others, and since you knew that Paul's truck was one of them there was a decent chance that the other two were also employees. The large bay doors of the shop were opening, one of the bays occupied with an old Volvo on the lift. 

Crossing the parking lot, the man of the hour caught your attention. Paul was alone in the garage. Grease and oil covered his hands and forearms as his attention was focused on the car above him. Patting your jacket pocket you made sure your proof was still there. You had only made it about halfway once he spotted you. He did a double take, a minor look of confusion showing. I mean why wouldn't he be confused, you weren't friends and here you were just randomly showing up at his place of business. 

Deciding to pull whatever last shred of confidence you had buried deep down you didn't turn chicken and run back to your car. No, you carried on walking, right up to the edge of his behemoth of a toolbox, slightly leaning on it to gain some support. The nerves make your whole body feel unstable. 

The wrench was abandoned, clattering inside said toolbox and he found a discarded towel that was so dirty it looked like it was only gonna make his hands worse. You couldn't help but study the way his body moved, how he looked in his work clothes, and how his muscles were contracting as he attempted to clean off the grime. Jesus Christ you need to get a hold of yourself, you thought. 

What you didn't notice was he was doing the same to you, looking you up and down searching for a reason as to why you were here. It wasn't until a breeze blew through the garage, that he realized he didn't only smell the dense forest and the various scents of the garage. It carried a faint smell of vanilla and lavender. But it wasn't just that, it was mixed with pine and rosemary. He bristled at the realization, the unique combination meant one thing and one thing only. It had been weeks since he last saw you there’s no way his scent would hang out on you that long unless…

Suddenly nothing else mattered except what you had to say. He wanted to help, to try and make the situation better. So he started to speak, to try and break this ice. But just like you had done weeks prior you beat him to the punch. 

“I’m pregnant”. 

The visible look of relief caused him to calm down, the last thing he wanted in this situation was for you to be stressed out. And the thought of you being so scared to talk to him broke his heart a little bit if he was being honest. 

“Is it mine?”. 

Paul could have ended it all in that moment. Why was he like this? 

He knew it was his, he had definitive proof, and he chose to play the idiot and make the woman who was carrying his child feel worse than she already did. 

“What the hell are you suggesting Paul? Yes it's yours, I wouldn't be telling you if it wasn't”. You crossed your arms across your chest, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable and exposed. The confidence meter has fully run out. 

“Yeah no yeah. That um makes sense, I’m sorry. That was a real jackass thing to say. Of course you wouldn't tell me if it wasn't mine”. Paul rubbed the back of his neck as he rambled, avoiding eye contact with you. The magic inside of him was screaming at him, his instincts to protect almost taking over what little composure he held. 

He hadn't planned on telling you about the bond you shared. At least not for a while. 

You were still kinda new to town, and it wasn't fair to derail your life because you had decided to be a kind person and drop Emily off just a few weeks after you had moved. The bond had set in that day, as he was leaving Emily’s house and heading out to his truck. His eyes had darted up upon hearing Em’s voice and what he hadn't expected was to almost fall flat on his face. 

Because for a split second, the two of you made eye contact, it was fleeting and you had returned your eyes to your friend immediately. It had meant nothing to you and everything to him. 

Since that day he vowed to protect you but also to not act selfish and to allow you to make your own decisions.  Which is why he couldn't help but feel horrible. He had ruined your life. 

Paul thinks back to that night, running his mind over every minute, had you been drunk? He had only used that as an excuse to drive you home. But if you had been too intoxicated to make coherent decisions he would never forgive himself. 

“Yeah that was a real jackass thing to say”, you sniffled proud of yourself for not bursting out into heavy sobs. Because in all honesty while it felt like a physical blow hearing him question your morals he was handling the situation better than you would have if you were in his position. It was a fair question, you had only slept together once. 

The next few minutes seemed to pass slowly. After standing there basking in the awkward silence he told you to wait a second and walked into the attached office. You did as he said, too nervous to take the opportunity and leave. He returned a few moments later with much cleaner hands and a small smile graced his face. God, how you were growing to love that smile. 

“Boss told me to head out for the day, don't worry I only told him that I need to take a certain pretty girl out to lunch”, he sent you a wink as he slammed the lid on the toolbox down. Your cheeks grew warm at the compliment, even with how pg it was. I mean this man got you pregnant but him calling you pretty had your chest hammering. 

His hand found its way to the small of your back as he walked, ushering you out of the garage so he could lower the bay door. Once it was down he turned to face you with a smirk replacing the kind smile from earlier. 

“Come on doll, looks like I gotta feed my baby mama”. He howled with laughter as the small tinge of red on your cheeks turned into your whole face going crimson. “Oh this is gonna be fun”, he said through his laughs. 

His warmth on your skin brought you back to that state of peace that you remembered so fondly. You let him lead you towards his truck, thanking him as he shut your door. 

As Paul jogged to the driver's side a smile fought against the smirk. This wasn't how he pictured everything going but he wasn't mad. It wasn't like he got some random girl pregnant, no he got you pregnant. And while you may believe that you were just a random girl to him that was not how he felt. But he wasn't going to tell you that, at least not right now. The last thing he wanted to do was stress you out even more than you already were. 

So he was going to wait. 

He could learn to be content with you being in his life as a girlfriend, or even just the mother of his child. And when the time was right he would tell you.

But for now, he could wait.

[maximumzombiecreator]

What's your preferred system for megadungeon play? I tried to make one in 5e and while it was fun I really had to fight 5e's rules to make it work

Yeah, I had a similar experience when I ran a 5e megadungeon, and as I've mentioned in a few posts I've run Abomination Vaults in pathfinder 2e, and I think that system isn't good for megadungeons either.

Broadly, I think for megadungeons, I want a couple things from a system:

First, I want combat to be fairly quick. I think room restocking and wandering monsters are important, and I don't want to feel like I'm bogging things down with extra combat. I want easier combats to resolve in 5-10 minutes, not 20-30.

Second, I want meaningful attrition. If there are going to be easy fights, those easy fights still need to have stakes. The party should still want to avoid them if possible. This means resource management, difficult healing, injury systems, consumables, etc. Anything that is going to create a cost that small fights can incur even when death isn't on the table.

Third, I want good timekeeping. Making dungeon time matter is important. If dungeon time doesn't matter, it takes away a lot of decision points. When you're tracking every 10 minutes, the decision to stay in a room and rest / investigate / plan becomes significant, and that is going to drive interesting choices constantly.

Fourth, I want a good balance between the players having interesting tools to interact with the dungeon and the players being able to trivialize the dungeon. I like players getting access to spells like Spider Climb or Water Breathing that are going to allow them to interact with the dungeon in interesting ways. I do not like spells like Tiny Hut that take away interesting problems like finding safe places to rest. (And yes, I know that there's all kinds of advice on the internet for "dealing with" Tiny Hut, but I find most of it very adversarial in a way that I do not like at my table.)

I think any system that ticks those boxes is going to work fairly well. Most of my megadungeon experience is in AD&D 1st and 2nd edition, as well as OSRIC, which is just AD&D but someone has taken off its glasses and puts its hair down so you can see that it was beautiful all along. But I've done some megadungeoning in other OSR systems¹, and it always went well.

One thing I am actually eager to do is try out a megadungeon in a game that ticks those boxes but isn't a fantasy OSR game. NSR games, like Troika!, try to accomplish similar things to old school D&D but from more modern design sensibilities. I'd love to give them a shot. And I've been chewing on the idea of running a cyberpunk megadungeon in Cities Without Number for a while now.

But if I wanted to play it safe, I'd probably go with OSRIC or OSE. I know they'll do what I want.

¹ Old School Revival, a set of games and table practices focused on recreating the playstyle and vibe of OD&D / AD&D.

[munsonkitten]

read on AO3 | rated T | sick fic

Eddie groans on the other side of the room. He’s curled up on the recliner with a pillow hugged to his chest. Beside him, a half eaten bag of chips and an unopened Mountain Dew can sit on the side table. He groans again and shifts in his seat, drawing his knees up higher to his chest like he’s trying to crawl inside himself. 

“You okay, baby?” Steve asks from the couch. 

A quiet grunt comes from the mess of curly brown hair covering his face. He unravels himself slowly, crawling out of the chair without bothering to put down the foot rest. The pillow gets left where it is, and the chips and his drink lay forgotten where they are. 

“I’ll be back.”

Eddie disappears from the living room, and the bathroom door clicks close. He’s gone for a little while, and Steve’s about to get up to check on him when the bathroom door opens again, and then he hears Eddie step out and the bedroom door clicks shut instead. When Eddie finally comes back, he’s replaced his jeans for sweatpants, and he has one of his blankets wrapped around his shoulders. 

“My stomach hurts,” Eddie says, his voice sounding miserable. 

It’s a common occurrence at this point. Steve’s used to Eddie being so up and down — he has good days and bad days, and he eats too much junk food for his stomach to handle. Most days something hurts, and Steve wishes he could wrap Eddie up and keep him safe and away from the pain forever. 

In the few months they’ve been together, and the year before that they were friends, Steve’s seen more stomach aches, headaches, painful periods, heartburn and other various ailments than he can count. And he knows Eddie can feel completely miserable over the smallest things — he doesn’t handle any of it very well, moaning and groaning and sighing while he looks for tums and ibuprofen and whatever else he needs. 

Steve hums empathetically, sitting up in case Eddie wants the spot where he’s laying. “Can I get you anything?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“Is it period cramps?”

Eddie shakes his head again. 

“Good old fashioned tummy ache, then,” Steve says. 

Eddie shrugs, wrapping his blanket tighter around himself. He turns around and goes into the kitchen, and Steve hears glasses clinking in the cupboard, and then the sink running. Eddie comes back with a glass of water, taking small sips as he comes toward Steve.

He places a damp hand on his forehead, and then his cheeks, cooling his pink skin. He might have a fever, too, Steve thinks. Something’s been going around, and it’s knocked out each kid one after the other this week — it was only a matter of time before Eddie or Steve caught it too. 

“C’mere, kitten,” Steve says, opening up his arms.

He lays back down, gesturing for Eddie to come lay with him on the couch. 

Eddie fits himself half on top of Steve, the rest of him slipping between Steve and the back of the couch. The blanket covers them, and Steve can tell Eddie took off his binder when he left the room, too. It’s rare for him to take it off during the day, even if it’s just them at home with no other plans, so he knows Eddie must really not be feeling good. 

“Are you sure you don't want a ginger ale, or something?” Steve asks. He slides his hand up and down Eddie’s back, trying to soothe away the pain. 

“Don’t have any.” 

“I can run to the store.”

“No,” Eddie says. “Only cure is cuddles.”

“Is that so?” Steve snorts. 

“Don’t make fun of me. I’m being attacked by my immune system. I’m sick, Steve. You would make fun of someone for having an illness? Shame on you.”

It’s obvious Eddie’s heart isn’t really in it. The teasing doesn’t feel like it usually does because Eddie just sounds tired. He burrows his warm face into Steve’s neck, and sighs, a quiet groan slipping out along with it. 

“I’m sorry you don’t feel good, baby,” Steve murmurs. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers. “Always so sweet to me.”

“Just say the word, and I’ll go get some stuff for you, okay?” Steve offers again. 

Eddie just hums noncommittally and curls impossibly closer to Steve’s body. He’s snoring softly within the next few minutes, and Steve just turns his attention back to the TV, allowing Eddie to get some rest. 

They lay there together for a long while, and Eddie comes in and out of consciousness ever so often. Sometimes he mumbles out quiet words of ‘don’t feel good,’ or laughs at jokes on the show they’re watching, and falls back asleep again.

There’s a warm swell of love in Steve’s chest. The fact that Eddie’s comfortable with him, even when he’s miserable like this, makes Steve fall in love with him even more.

Each nuzzle of Eddie’s warm face against his neck, and each curl of his fingers in Steve’s shirt, or each slide of his leg over Steve’s hip as he gets more comfortable — it all makes Steve feel like the luckiest guy on earth. 

The afternoon slips away into evening, and Eddie dozes in and out for most of it. By the time Wayne’s about to leave for work, Eddie’s awake again and groaning in discomfort each time he shifts on the couch.

“I take it someone’s not feeling well,” Wayne comments as he leaves his bedroom. “You need anything before I go, bud?” 

“No,” Eddie says, lifting his head just enough to talk to Wayne. He drops it back down with a heavy sigh when the fatigue decides he’s done enough. “Steve’s taking care of me.”

Wayne lingers for just another second, probably waiting to see if Eddie changes his mind, and then he says his goodbyes and tells them he’ll be back in the morning, like always. 

Eddie mumbles out a goodbye and a ‘see you later,’ just as Wayne walks out the front door. 

He uncurls himself from Steve’s body, then, and worms his way into a sitting position. Steve shifts to give Eddie more room, and raises an eyebrow at him. 

There’s a sheen of sweat on Eddie’s face, his forehead glistening and his cheeks a rosy pink. He pushes the blanket off of them and sighs, head lolling back against the backrest of the couch. 

“It’s too hot,” Eddie bemoans. 

And it’s not, really. It’s winter, and there’s a chill in the air, even inside. Eddie’s like a furnace, though, and his forehead is warm when Steve lifts his hand to touch it. 

“You might be really coming down with something,” Steve says. 

“You should probably go home,” Eddie says. “Don’t wanna get you sick.”

Steve frowns and shakes his head. “I’ll take care of you.”

Eddie sighs, loud and long. “You shouldn’t have to.”

“I don’t feel like I have to,” Steve says, simply. “I like taking care of you. Figured you’d have noticed that by now.”

Eddie drops his head down to Steve’s chest and moans quietly in his throat. His fingers curl around Steve’s shirt and he holds on, curled in on himself. 

“Fuck,” Eddie grunts after a few seconds. “Sorry. Just had, like, a wave of nausea.”

“At the thought of me taking care of you?” Steve jokes.

“Shut up.”

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed, baby. You’ll be more comfortable.” 

“Give me another second. Please.”

“Take your time,” Steve says, rubbing a hand up and down Eddie’s back. His shirt is damp with sweat, and he’s radiating feverish heat. 

Whatever Eddie has is coming on quick because he was fine this afternoon when Steve first came over. That’s why Steve thought it was just a regular junk food induced stomach ache earlier, and that Eddie would be fine after some tums or a nap, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. 

He’s been around for headaches and stomach aches and other little ailments, but he’s never seen Eddie sick. Not like this. 

Eventually Eddie uncurls himself from Steve, and unsteadily makes his way to his feet. There’s exhaustion in his movements, and Steve is quick to wrap an arm around his waist to help him. It might not be necessary, but Steve can’t help it — he wants to take care of Eddie in any way he can, and making sure he doesn’t pass out in the fifteen feet from the couch to his bedroom seems like a good place to start. 

He gets Eddie situated in bed, fluffing up his pillows and making sure his blankets are within reach. Eddie takes one and pulls it up to his chin, rolling over to lay on his side. If he didn’t look so miserable, Steve thinks this would be really cute — Eddie being all cozy and cuddly always makes Steve smile and want to take a picture to save forever. 

“I’m going to the store,” Steve says, regretting that he has to leave Eddie alone, but knowing he needs more than they currently have to get through this. “I’ll get you some soup and some ginger ale, okay? Anything else you might need?”

Eddie shrugs. “Just be quick.”

“Of course, baby.”

He bends down and presses a kiss to Eddie’s sweaty forehead, running his fingers through his damp hair, and then he finds his shoes and keys and leaves. 

At the store, he picks out a few cans of soup and some ginger ale. He tries to remember what his mom would do for him when he was sick as a kid, and thinks of long nights with a cold towel pressed to his forehead, and a regularly refilled cup of ice for him to chew on. He doesn’t know how much ice Eddie has in his freezer, so he decides he’ll just buy a bag instead of worrying about finding ice trays or how long they’ll take to freeze.

His basket is full by the time he gets to the check out, and he knows he’s been gone for a lot longer than he meant to be. 

He gets back to Eddie’s, and finds him still curled up in bed where Steve left him. Steve gives him a Gatorade and a cup of ice before leaving to put the rest of the groceries away. 

“Here, try eating something,” Steve says gently, watching as Eddie’s big eyes give him a look that says he wants to do anything else. “Just a few crackers, okay? And I’ll make you some soup in a little bit.”

Steve leaves him to it, a napkin of saltines on his nightstand, and goes to wet a washcloth from the bathroom. He folds it a few times and moves Eddie’s bangs so he can lay it over his forehead. 

“Thanks,” Eddie whispers, bringing a cracker to his mouth to take a few small bites. He finishes it and moves to lay down on his side, now holding the cold washcloth to his forehead. 

“Do you need anything else while I’m up?” Steve asks. 

Eddie takes a few small sips of his Gatorade, and then a few more before answering. “I’m okay.”

With that, Steve climbs into Eddie’s bed, settling between his boyfriend and the wall. He pulls a magazine out of the crevice between the bed and the wall and flicks it open to where he left off the last time he was here. 

“You’re supposed to be cuddling me,” Eddie huffs, looking over his shoulder at Steve with as playful a look he can muster. “It’s the only cure.”

“How could I forget?” 

Steve puts his magazine back, and turns on his side so he can spoon up behind Eddie. His hand settles gently on his stomach, rubbing up and down in a way he hopes is soothing for him. 

It’s pretty likely, Steve thinks, that he’s going to get sick soon, too. This stomach bug has wiped out most of their friends at this point, and being this close to Eddie means it’s definitely going to jump to him next. 

He finds that he doesn’t really care. There’s no place he’d rather be right now, and there’s no way in hell he’s leaving Eddie to ride this out on his own. 

“So sweet to me,” Eddie murmurs sleepily. It isn’t the first time he’s said it today.

Steve presses a kiss to the back of his warm neck. “Get some rest, baby.”

“Mhm,” Eddie hums. “Tired.”

Sleep tugs at Steve, and he lets himself succumb to it, Eddie held safe in his arms.

(please leave kudos on AO3 <3)

[starlight-library]

Impromptu dates | LN4

pairing: lando norris x sick!bookworm!reader

summary: a bookworm & f1 driver + stomach bug = the best lazy date ever.

warnings: none!

fc: none!

wc: 859

Most people hated being sick.

It’s understandable that people hated being sick. They don’t feel. They feel gross. They feel off. The list goes on and on on why people hated being sick. Especially people who are more independent and hate the idea of someone else taking care of them. Which you understood as it hit a bit too close to home.

Which is why as someone fiercely independent as you are, people never understood why you enjoy being sick. 

You could never find the words to explain it when people ask you on the spot. You try and try yet you’re never happy with your answer and people never quite believed you which was fair but you didn’t care. You enjoyed it when you were sick. 

Not violently ill, which you emphasize. You did not enjoy running a super high fever, or running to the bathroom, or having your head constantly over a toilet vomiting up basically nothing. That was not fun. You enjoy the kind of sickness where you can’t go out into the world for a day or two. Maybe a low grade fever that’ll pass or a quick stomach bug that’s out of your system fast but you still take the precaution and stay indoors. 

Why?

Well that’s because it means you can stay under the covers after a shower with your kindle in its little tablet holder. Page turner remote in hand while having your water and drink of choice (mostly iced coffee), and some white noise as background noise. It was truly perfection for you.

Yet it was Lando’s hell.

Lando, your boyfriend, hated when you were sick. It meant no cuddles. No hugs. No kisses. Any physical contact was on halt and it was already torture given his schedule so the rare time he did get to see you in person and you were sick? He was miserable. Sure, you two video called but it just made him more sad that he wasn’t there to take care of you even if you swore that you didn’t need someone to take care of you. He refused to believe it so he would send you meals and medicine. He refused to let you pay him back so you’ve learned to accept it without the guilt weighing on your shoulders. It was a nice agreement you two had silently made and nothing really could beat this.

Until now.

There was a month break in between Singapore and Austin and Lando was going to soak up every second he could get and it was fine till somehow you caught a stomach bug. Lando refused to leave which also meant he caught the stomach bug.

You’re happily half laying/half sitting next to Lando against some pillows under a weighted heated blanket. You have one of his sweatshirts on while sipping your iced coffee and looking at your kindle while Lando tosses and turns next to you. You tried offering him medicine or some crackers and soup but he’s turned all the options down but now it seems he’s settled down. You look over and are greeted with the same green-blue eyes you’ve grown to pick out of the crowd in a moment. You see the curls sticking to his forehead and gently you push some out of the way and smile. “Hey.”

“How are you drinking iced coffee right now?” The Brit asks.

You shrug before smiling, “I don’t know. Guess I feel better after cleaning my stomach out and taking some medicine unlike someone.” Poking his forehead, you giggle while he huffs slightly and moves his head away. You hear Lando grumble something about the medicine tasting bad and you roll your eyes. “You’re such a big baby.”

Lando pouts slightly grumbling he is not a big baby before you return to your book. You look back hearing a huff and raise a brow. “Yes?”

“How do you just lay here and read and do nothing? I’m so bored yet too tired to get up.”

You shrug, “I just get really engrossed in my books sometimes I forget to even eat or pee.”

“You what!?” Lando sits up a bit in surprise before laying down and whining at his upset stomach.

“Oh come here.” You start.

You shift and sit up a bit more and reach over and rearrange your nightstand. You move your drinks further back along with your tablet holder before grabbing your TV remote and turning the TV on. You watch Lando lay there for a moment before shifting closer. He tosses and turns before slowly he settles on his stomach letting a soft sigh of relief out. Wrapping his arms around your waist, the Brit nuzzles his face into your stomach before settling down and looking at the TV. Lando flips through some apps and television options before settling on ‘The Hangover’.

Settling back down against the pillows you run your fingers gently through his hair while you go back to your book, the movie becoming background noise for you. This is how you two spend the evening and it’s the best impromptu date and now becomes your go to date.

[violettwrites]

trailer park trash 🏹 young!daryl dixon

a/n: had this sitting in my drafts for a while 🫠 but i finally got around to finishing it ! i’m lowkey obsessed w the idea of young!daryl atm as well he’s just so fine 😭 but i hope y’all enjoy this ! please give me a like, reblog, and/or comment if you did 🫶🏻

this is my masterlist !

and my ask box is currently open for requests !

( also shout out to @madelyncilne for being my beta reader i love u gf 🫶🏻😙 )

summary: 1988. reader has been best friends with daryl since they were little. as they celebrate his 19th birthday, drunken conversations happen where feelings that had been pushed down are told. ( pre apoc )

pairing: young!daryl dixon x reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol, smoking, mentions of weed— just a grunge-y trailer park party scene, making out 🫶🏻

word count: 1,856

— — —

it was july, 1988, a sweltering summer evening in the small, beat up trailer park you and daryl had called home for as long as you could remember. the worn out trailers sat in uneven rows, nestled between overgrown patches of grass and dusty gravel.

your fathers were friends— and though they were both horrible people, you were definitely blessed to have found daryl dixon amidst the chaos of your personal life. he had turned into your best friend— your confidant. he was the one you told everything to. no detail was ever too small. and even though daryl wasn’t much of a talker himself, he always listened.

it was daryl’s 19th birthday. merle, daryl’s older brother, had thrown together a party without much care. however, you both knew it was just an excuse for him to get drunk. not that he needed one anyway. he had mostly invited friends of his own. the kind you weren’t really a fan of; loud, aggressive, always looking for a fight— and way too drunk to care about the aftermath. you didn’t mind though, because you were there for daryl.

the air was thick with the smell of cheap beer and smoke, whether it was from weed or nicotine. merle’s sound system drowns out the hum of cicadas with its scream of pantera lyrics. but it was familiar to you, because this was how majority of your weekends were. you and daryl laying in his bed, ignoring merle and his friends as you smoked cigarettes. sometimes one, others five.

“hey! c’mon, you’re fallin’ behind!” merle shouted, staggering over to you with a half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. he was already wasted, his wild laughter echoing through the park. you rolled your eyes at him but took a sip of the beer you had in your hand. sure, you were definitely tipsy, and even though you had no desire to keep up with merle and his crowd, it was just easier to go with it.

daryl, leaning against the side of the trailer, had been watching you most of the night. between getting dragged into games of beer pong and the several shots that he had done, he had kept his eyes on you. ready to intervene incase any of merle’s drunken friends put their hands on you.

despite the alcohol in his system, you had noticed he had been quieter than usual. no echoing cheers as he won a tournament, or no whooping after he downed three shots in a row. his shoulders were tense, eyes dark in the moonlight. you really couldn’t tell what was going on through his head tonight, but you knew he wasn’t himself.

“hey, you good?” you asked when you had made your way over to him, the party roaring on behind you. someone had lit a fire out in the field behind the dixon’s trailer, and merle and his friends were starting to get really rowdy, howling at the flames like a pack of wolves.

daryl looked at you, eyes flickering in the dim light. he shrugged, taking a long swig from the bottle in his hand. “yeah, ‘m fine. just… it’s loud, y’know?”

you nodded, leaning against the trailer next to him. you could feel the heat of his arm just barely brushing against yours. it had always been like that with daryl. the way you were always near each other, like magnets that couldn’t quite pull apart.

merle’s laugh rang out again, and you could see him egging on some of the guys, probably looking for trouble. “looks like merle’s having a good time.” you rolled your eyes, sipping at your beer again.

“yeah, well, tha’s merle,” daryl muttered, his voice low and gravelly, like he had something caught in his throat. “he don’ know when to stop.”

the two of you stood in silence for a moment, listening to the noise of the party behind you. motörhead was now playing through the speakers, and the hollers of the group down by the fire in the field was still going.

“hey, it’s your birthday. we should do something. just you and me.” you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol making you bolder, but you decided to say what had been sitting on your chest all night.

daryl looked at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he was trying to read between the lines of what you said. “like what?”

“i don’t know,” you shrugged your shoulders, trying to play it off causally, “get outta here, away from this mess. go down by the creek like we used to.”

he stared at you for a moment, and you swore you saw something shift in his expression. he was already drunk, you knew that, but there was something else there too. maybe it was the same thing you had been pushing down since you were thirteen and realised what crushes were.

“yeah,” he said quietly, nodding, “let’s go.”

the two of you slipped away from the party, walking through the field and down towards the creek. although you could still hear the faint bass of the music, it was quieter down there. you could hear the water trickling over the rocks, and the occasional rustle of the wind in the trees. you sat down on the bank, the cool grass under your legs, and looked out at the stars scattered across the sky.

daryl sat down next to you, arms resting on his knees. he was closer to you than he normally was, his bicep brushing against yours. you could smell the whiskey on his breath, but you didn’t mind. you were used to the smell of cheap booze and cigarettes— it was part of life around here.

after a few minutes of comfortable silence, daryl spoke. his voice was rougher than usual, thick with whatever emotions he had been drowning all night. “y’ever think ‘bout gettin’ outta here?”

the question caught you off guard, but you answered honestly. “yeah,” you nodded, “all the time.”

he looked at you, his eyes glassy but intense. “where would ya go?”

“i don’t know,” you said with a soft laugh, “somewhere far away. maybe the mountains, or a big city. somewhere where things aren’t so messed up.”

daryl nodded his head, looking down at the bottle in his hand before taking another swig. “yeah, i think ‘bout it too.”

the silence stretched again, and you felt the weight of all the things left unsaid between the two of you. daryl shifted closer, his knee pressing against yours. his voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again.

“i ain’t ever told you this, but… you’re the only person i give a damn about in this place.”

your breath hitched, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest. you’d always felt something more for daryl, but you had never brought it up to him. you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had, and if you could only have him as a friend, then so be it. because it was better than being alone.

“me too,” you admitted, your voice barely steady. “i care about you too.”

he turned to look at you, his face inches from yours now, and you could feel the heat radiating off him. “i ain’t no good, though. you know that.”

you shook your head, your hand reaching for his, giving him a gentle squeeze. “don’t say that. you’re better than anyone else here.”

his eyes stared at you for a long moment, his eyes flicking down to your lips and back up again. the air was thick with tension, and then, without thinking, he leaned in. his lips crashed into yours, rough and urgent, tasting like whiskey and everything you’d ever wanted.

the kiss was messy, desperate, both of you giving into all of the feelings you’d buried for years. your hands cupped his cheeks, moving to crawl onto his lap, finding a new angle as you continued to make out with the boy underneath you.

when his hands moved to your waist, pulling your body closer, you swore it felt like fire when he touched you. you let his hands roam, both your tongues swirling with each other. it felt like bliss, like you were both lost in a world where only the two of you existed, the years of unspoken tension finally erupting in this one heated moment.

every breath was shared, every touch electric. you both had been waiting for this for far too long. his grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging in just enough to send shivers down your spine.

you felt the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, your nails lightly grazing the back of his neck as you deepened the kiss. the taste of whiskey still lingered on his lips, but now there was something more— something raw and unfiltered. the taste of desire.

his hands began to explore more boldly, pulling you even closer until there was no space left. your heart raced, and you weren’t sure if you were feeling your own heart thump against your chest, or his.

“daryl!” you heard a drunken voice holler from the trees, causing the two of you to break apart, breathless and cheeks red. you looked down at him for a moment, a small laugh coming from your lips as you heard the drunken voice holler once again for daryl.

merle.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that,” he mutters softly, hands gently rubbing at where he had dug his fingertips into you. he held your gaze, eyes dark.

“me too,” you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper. you could feel the weight of everything you both had left unsaid, all the words that had been replaced by the kiss, by the touch of his hands on your skin.

“daaaaryl!” you heard merle holler once again, and you chuckled softly, rolling your eyes as you moved to get up, holding out your hand to the boy beneath you, pulling him up off the creek bed.

“c’mon,” you huffed, shaking your head as you pulled him back towards the trailer. “merle’s either gonna have a fit, or he’s gonna end up drowning in the creek if we don’t get to him soon.”

daryl just chuckled, enjoying the feeling of your hand in his as you both walked towards the trailer, finding a stumbling merle with a now almost empty bottle of whiskey in his hand not too far from where the two of you had been hiding.

“there he is! there’s my baby brother!” merle shouted, throwing his arms open wide, bottle of whiskey smashing into the trees.

he watched as you let go of his hand to turn merle around, your palms on his older brother’s shoulders as you walked him back towards the trailer, a small smile on his lips.

daryl may have been trailer park trash, but at least he had someone that cared about him.