#five star hotel mattress

[snoozerfinemattress]

https://www.snoozermattress.com/

Snoozer is one of the best luxury mattress brands in India, offering a wide range of mattresses that are designed to provide superior comfort and support. Our mattresses are made with the finest materials, including natural latex, memory foam, and pocket springs, and they are handcrafted to the highest standards.

[pranasleepnaturalmattress]

We at Pranasleep ® give you a soft mattress for bed that will give a luxurious look and feels for relaxing sleep. Stay connected to opt for the mattress today.

[ipegchangbin]

— it takes two

sub!jisung x dom!reader x sub!jeongin

You wonder if Jeongin regrets staying on the extra bed of your hotel room with Jisung. Maybe he feels like your getaway is more of a honeymoon he butt himself into. But it isn’t really third wheeling when he gets to join in on the fun too, right?

🗒️ 4.6k

🏷️ fem!reader (she/her pronouns, afab) smut. fluff. porn, no plot. 

🏷️ threesome. petnames “baby boy” and “noona” (reader’s age is never mentioned). tipsy sex (everyone is conscious enough to consent), unprotected sex, perversion, voyeurism, dacryphilia, jeongin is inexperienced, slight member x member, poly/open relationship themes.

📝 this is especially for the one and only @meivida !!! theyre my ride-or-die till the end, this is all for them ! to my proofreader, my twinnie, my bestest friend, the jisung to my changbin, the jeongin to my bang chan—who said that?? otherwise, enjoy!

18+ only. minors do not interact.

In his hotel room — and yours, and Jisung’s — there were two beds.

The main king-sized glory belonged to you and Jisung, the inseparable couple, and Jeongin claimed his place on the smaller extra bed. There was no reason to fret over anything.

But for some reason, Jeongin did.

He couldn’t seem to shut his mind off. Jeongin unpacked his things slowly and strategically, claiming his spaces in the cozy cabana-style room. It was supposed to be a simple vacation for the eight boys and their plus ones at the five-star resort, all for your well-deserved rest.

For some reason, he couldn’t relax.

Staring at the ceiling fan above him, he pondered the thought. It wasn’t that he had no plus one, nor that he didn’t have his own room. Those were childish things to complain about, and the cabana was too cozy to whine over.

His roommates, you and Jisung, weren’t exactly the source of his worries either. Sometimes you two would bicker and play around, sure, but it wasn’t annoying enough for Jeongin to feel as bothered as he was.

“Y/N, you know how I sleep. I’m taking this end of the bed!” Jisung whined, plopping a stack of his belongings onto the right side of the mattress.

You simply looked at him, astonished.

Again, Jeongin thought as he placed his train of thought back on its tracks; neither of you was exactly the problem. Jisung was his ride-or-die, his best friend for life. They showered butt-naked together multiple times. You weren’t the problem either; you had grown incredibly close with Jeongin to the point where you oftentimes stayed up to drink and plot against common enemies. Closeness wasn’t an issue with either of you; as a couple, he would willingly third-wheel anytime.

What if I’m intruding? What if I’m in the middle of something? What if they had their plans, he thought. He tried his best to wrap his head around the reasons behind feeling this uncomfortable, but nothing seemed to work. He cocked his head to the side, facing you and Jisung’s bed. It’s entertaining to watch you guys argue, but maybe sleeping is too awkward to interfere with. Was it too intimate of an activity? He had no idea, and, frankly, he didn’t think that was the issue.

“Oh, so you can’t even say please?”

You crossed your arms at Jisung, your gaze piercing through the poor boy. He shivered, and his eyes started darting everywhere but your face. You squinted at him, causing your boyfriend to finally freeze and respond.

“P-please? May I please take this side?” Jisung begged. “I-I’ll do…anything…”

The beats of silence that followed were nothing short of intense. Jeongin expected the awkward air to amplify, but it didn’t — instead, he caught himself zoning in on the scene, paying close attention to the both of you.

Your commanding glare softened a little. You almost chuckled at how pathetic Jisung looked, breaking into a nervous sweat, and it didn’t help that you smirked sweetly. Your hand trailed up from his tensed bicep up to his shoulder, his neck, and then his full and soft cheek. Caressing his skin with your thumb, you soothed your nervous wreck of a boyfriend, feeling his skin vibrate from your touch alone.

Jeongin couldn’t peel his eyes away from your movements. The both of you acted as if he wasn’t there; maybe you both thought that he had fallen asleep. Instead of counting sheep, he was counting the beats of the sequence, fully allured by you, and he didn’t understand why. It was as if he would have missed something if he blinked once.

He almost forgot to breathe.

“You’ll do anything for me?”

Jisung’s breath hitched, reminding Jeongin to exhale. “Yes, anything.”

He murmured something after. In a hush under his breath, Jeongin caught what he whispered.

“Anything for you, noona.”

Before Jeongin could even process the thought, you whispered something that he couldn’t quite make out, especially from his skewed, sideways view from the other end of the room. You both smiled, though: you smiled slyly as if you won the lottery, and Jisung smiled like he was obsessed.

Although he was more intrigued to know what you exchanged, you both walked away with your hands held together, making him shut his eyes and curl his head into the pillow to appear asleep.

“Yo, Innie, we’re just gonna grab a few drinks,” Jisung announced. “We’ll be—oh, look, he’s asleep.”

You both turned your heels and opened the door, leaving Jeongin alone and in awe.

Once he knew that you both walked far away enough, he attempted to sit up, only to feel an ache between his legs.

Well, fuck, he got hard, and he didn’t realize how long he had this hard-on.

Naturally, he ran to the bathroom and tried to take care of it himself. Unnaturally, though, nothing seemed to work.

Minutes ago, Jeongin desperately pulled his shorts down and took his aching cock in his hand. Pumping it slowly, he attempted to relieve himself, humming lowly at the sensations it gave him. He knew that he had to get off before you and Jisung came back.

But he couldn’t.

His cock stayed hard, almost as if it didn’t want to release. He picked up his pace, his long and pretty fingers making their way up to the aching red tip, palming it sometimes, only to slam down to his sturdy and thick base. Jeongin even teased his balls, cupping them slightly before stroking his above-average length. His panting turned into moaning, and when he realized that he wasn’t even close to leaking, he started whining.

“Fuck, why can’t I…” Jeongin started to desperately thrust his hips into his hand, leaning his back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. He met eyes with his reflection in the big mirror in front of him.

Embarrassed at the look of his desperation, he tried to cum with the thought of it. Jeongin hated the thought of being watched right now or being walked right into. You and Jisung could come home drunk, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be embarrassed. You could come home anytime. He had every reason to worry, and he did, and it made him hornier — but he couldn’t quite cum yet.

He’s insanely comfortable with both of you, but to be caught masturbating by his best friend and his best friend’s girlfriend feels leagues worse.

But maybe they both noticed how hard he had been since earlier. He was able to notice the tent under the comforter earlier, so what more is there with either of you? Jeongin started blushing in embarrassment, his ears turning red and the apples of his cheeks flushing shades of warm pink. He sniffled his nose at the warmth of the blood rushing through his veins.

The thoughts couldn’t stop running. Maybe you didn’t notice, though, since you and Jisung were so zoned in on each other earlier. He couldn’t forget the sultry look in your eyes, sending Jisung into a state of panic that Jeongin’s rarely seen before. He never saw his best friend seem so…small. He faltered under your touch so easily, the silly and tough guy persona leaving him for just a single moment. Jeongin remembered how he couldn’t breathe while watching you, his eyes eagerly following your pretty fingers as they danced their way across Jisung’s skin. You put your boyfriend in a trance, but Jeongin was caught in it too.

He wondered if you knew it. He wondered if he missed the way you both glanced at him and smiled.

This is wrong, Jeongin thought. This is wrong, he repeated in his head. “This is fucking wrong!” Jeongin said aloud, panicking yet still pumping his cock at an even faster pace.

He shut his eyes at the overwhelming sensations. It felt like he was being overstimulated despite not cumming yet — except he was; he was finally close to releasing, even leaking solid amounts of precum on the shower tile. He whimpered a string of curses under his breath, letting pathetic whines echo through the shower and the entire bathroom. He was beyond desperate, not caring for how he looked. He pulled his shirt up and bit the bunched fabric, drowning out his noises as the cold air hit his nipples. Jeongin could only focus on the rushes of ecstasy, the pleasure in the pain, the growing release, reaching the point of cumming, until he finally—

“Bro? Innie? You in there?”

Upon hearing the hurried knocks on the door, he pulled his shorts up and fixed himself. He didn’t cum. Instead, he took two breaths to compose himself and respond.

“Yeah! In the bathroom!”

“Oh okay. We’re gonna head to bed. Good night,  Yennie!” You greeted, pushing your slightly off-balanced Jisung onto the right side of the bed.

Jeongin slid his shorts down, not to continue but to stare at his red cock.

He tried to tap the side of it just to let it spill the pent-up cum that he failed to release.

Nothing happened. It remained hard and aching, but he couldn’t cum as if he’d gone back to square one.

Jeongin whispered through clenched teeth, “How am I supposed to sleep now?”

His walk back was fast yet laughable. He was glad that neither of you saw it since he awkwardly shuffled in his steps, practically jumping into his bed when he reached it.

Trying to hide his erection was one thing he could do, but sleeping with an angry dick felt like hell on earth for him.

He shut his eyes and tried to sleep. Unfortunately for him, the more he dozed off, the worse the pain got.

Jeongin tried to breathe deeply just to ease the ache in his cock, shifting positions so that he could feel more free under the covers. As it happened earlier, nothing worked, and he only felt more stuffy.

He hummed a lullaby in his head. He furrowed his eyebrows, looking like a troubled fox that hadn’t known sleep. He sniffled like one too; his nose still flushed a reddish pink.

Giving up slightly, he carefully and slowly slid his hand down his shorts. His fingers reached his cock, and he had to bite a hiss back. It felt swollen even if it grew to its maximum size, and every single touch felt like fire coursing through his skin. Jeongin took his time to touch himself.

Just like you took your time to touch Jisung.

For some reason, his brain seemed to always want to circle back to the scene. You two had already dozed off, the alcohol in your systems wearing away in your sleep; Jeongin was the restless one about it. He was fixated on your deliberate movements, thinking about how your fingertips must’ve felt warm and ticklish for Jisung. He also couldn’t believe how easily compliant his best friend became. It was a side to him that was new yet interesting, one that Jeongin never knew he wanted to both see and feel for himself.

And why did he enjoy seeing that side of him?

He didn’t know if he wanted to be you or if he wanted to be Jisung, but fuck, he couldn’t help but replay the scene in his mind. It was everything he wanted: the intimate yet powerful touches, the gazes, the closeness, and the shamelessness.

All of it was so wrong.

Jeongin dug his head further into the plush fabric of his pillow. He was under stress yet pleasure, pain yet delectation. He teased his cock and the inner points of his thighs, strolling his fingers down to tease his ass and sliding back up to the overly sensitive tip.

And then he heard a kiss.

His ears perked up at the noise, prompting him to pause. He didn’t fully stop, hoping that his mind was playing tricks on him. He couldn’t look back at your end of the room, instead facing the closed curtains in front of him.

See? You’re already hallucinating and hearing things, he thought to himself.

And then he heard another kiss. And then another.

The smooching was slow and steady; it wasn’t obnoxious in sound, it wasn’t too wet, it didn’t sound forced. They weren’t too calculated but they sounded as warm as love would’ve felt. Passion burned through Jeongin’s nerves with each kiss of the lips. It was so quiet yet it thumped so loud in his ears, ringing throughout his system and echoing through his brain with the strongest reverb. His cock twitched from under the sheets, moving on its own.

Jeongin took the remaining courage he had and turned his head to face you. The ruffling and shuffling of the fabric made the kissing pause for a few solid seconds.

He opened his eyes slightly and, as expected, saw your body sprawled over Jisung’s, angled in such a way that it looked like natural sleep — except that your lips were attached to his.

The moment you both thought that Jeongin had fallen back to sleep, you picked up the pace. Soon enough, Jisung swiped his tongue across your mouth. His neediness was apparent with the way he persistently dug his face closer to yours, but you had the reigns. You took control with your slight bites and nibbles. At that point, you were straddling his hips, grinding ever so slightly on Jisung.

Jeongin could barely see anything but he could hear it.

Soon enough, Jisung pulled your body up and closer to his. He quietly insisted on making you drop your full weight on him. You kissed him passionately until you didn’t, your mouth left with his drool all over it. Licking it up, you started kissing outside his mouth, the perimeters of his lips, the outline of his jaw, the peaks of his cheeks, all the way up to his temples, and down to his neck.

He instinctively jutted his hips upwards, grinding on you from underneath. An apology nearly rolled off his tongue when you caught it, pecking the tip of his tongue and lightly sucking on his bottom lip after. That was when you did the same, fully rolling your hips onto his, making you moan into each other’s mouths.

At this point, Jeongin had shifted his body to the other side to watch. Neither of you seemed to notice — nor care, or so it seemed — which was his go signal to watch with half-opened eyes.

Like earlier, his eyes followed everything. From your hands making their way down to Jisung’s tiny waist, to Jisung himself cupping your breasts ever so softly: the boy watched it all in awe.

Nothing was helping Jeongin’s erection at all.

He started tearing up at the nearly unbearable ache. He needed release but he couldn’t have it even in embarrassing ways. Even then, he simply couldn’t stop watching as you pulled Jisung up. He pulled your shirt over your head as you threw his shirt aside as well. He helped you out of your shorts as you did on him, every single action needy and desperate yet equally as full of love. They seemed to only burn with the risk, whispering things Jeongin couldn’t understand onto each other’s skin. Maybe you were telling him to go slower, maybe he was telling you to be quieter. Maybe you both didn’t care and were teasing each other for it.

Maybe you were plotting. Nevertheless, the poor boy found himself subconsciously rutting on the pillow between his legs.

You positioned yourself between Jisung’s legs, his bare and firm length awaiting your warmth from beneath — finally being met with the plush walls of your pussy. You kissed him hungrily this time and Jisung responded with a shamelessly loud kiss back.

Like a fox, Jeongin could be prey. He salivated at the sight, something he saw in real life for the first time even if he shouldn’t have seen anything.

He straddled the pillow more harshly, wrapping his legs around it underneath the sheets. His lips twitched as he tried his absolute hardest not to moan. He wanted to match your pace with Jisung, but he couldn’t, he shouldn’t.

You could notice him anytime.

And you did.

“Innie,” Jisung spoke up, pulling away from the kiss with a dumb smile. He turned his head to face Jeongin. “Noona’s asking if you wanna come and join.”

You ruffled Jisung’s hair and kissed his head. “Good boy, told your friend as I asked you to.”

Jeongin couldn’t believe anything. A few silent breaths escaped his system.

He was caught. You laughed at his face in the middle of your kisses. You knew, Jisung knew, and Jeongin was the last to realize.

He simply fell silent and the dead air thickened as milliseconds turned into seconds. A minute almost ticked by, causing everything to break. Suddenly, this probably wasn’t a good idea for anybody. You and Jisung grew slightly nervous.

If only you knew how much Jeongin wanted to say yes.

“If you don’t…I-I’m sorry. We don’t…we didn’t mean to invade. Promise. Just forget it if you don’t want to, we’ll take care of ourselves privately…”

Jisung started holding you tighter. You calmed him with soothing circles on the nape of his neck, assuring him to wait for Jeongin. His best friend couldn’t reply. He was too stunned, making you feel guilty for suggesting the sudden invitation in your tipsy thoughts.

“I know we drank, but I promise we’re fine. We’re so sorry it’s so sudden. If you’re uncomfortable—”

“Yes, i-if it’s okay, may I join?”

You and Jisung widened your eyes at Jeongin. The boy was probably also only half-aware of what he was saying but you knew that he meant it.

“I should…be the one saying sorry.” Jeongin sat up from his bed, not minding his erection in full view. he did not need to be embarrassed at this point. “Not gonna lie, I-I’ve been watching you two since earlier.”

It wasn’t jealousy. He didn’t feel jealous that his best friend was getting it on, nor did he envy that you were fucking his best friend right in front of him. It was longing; longing for whether he wanted to be either of you or to be the prey caught right in between.

“I just…w-wanted to be a part…of it…” Jeongin could feel a lump in his throat. His eyes got watery from half-shameless embarrassment and the pain in his cock.

“Well then, what are you waiting for?” You smiled gently and tapped the small space left on the bed. “Come join us, baby.”

Jeongin practically threw his comforter away to stand up. You giggled and the sensation of your body moving against Jisung made him whimper.

While waiting for Jeongin to settle, you turned to face Jisung, your wonderful boyfriend. You cupped his face with gentle hands and watched him smile, soft cheeks filling your palms.

He was excited. He’d been craving a threesome for a long while and he knew that you liked Jeongin enough for it.

You pecked his lips and rolled your hips back, allowing him to fill more of your cunt until he bottomed out. “You’re my good boy. This is your treat.”

“Mhmm, always gonna be noona’s good boy.” Jisung bit his lower lip with a shy smile. “Noona’s baby w-will be good all the time so we can always have this.”

You had to laugh. “Did you hear that, Innie? He wants to have this all the time.”

As you turned, though, you were greeted with the sight of a salivating boy, eyes trained on your pussy as his hand sat still at the base of his cock.

“Need help there?” you suggested, placing your hand around his.

With gentle tugs and feathery touches, you guided his hand up to the tip of his aching dick. You slotted your fingers between his and played with his smooth flesh. He had never had anything like this before and he was too shocked to move without you.

Too dumb to know how to use what’s his.

“A-ah, fuck, n-noona…” Jeongin’s hips jutted forward by instinct. Jisung mirrored the action, pressing his cock deep into your walls.

It wasn’t intentional but it was expected; you’re dealing with two needy guys after all.

“Good boy, you know what to call me already.” Your hand slid down his cock in the same way you moved your hips along your boyfriend’s cock. “You’ve been listening intently, huh?”

You squeezed Jeongin’s cock at his shaft. “Like a pervert?”

“N-no—” you squeezed harder. “Fuck! Yes, yes, I’ve been a pervert!”

You laughed and let go of him, only to slap him right where you left his touch. You clenched your cunt tightly around Jisung at the same time — the two boys moaned and writhed at the same time.

“I’ve been watching since earlier! I’m sorry, noona! M—fuck!” He was on the brink of tears. Precum leaked out of him again but he still couldn’t bring himself to release.

Smack. Smack. Smack. With each hit, he would cry harder. His chest heaved and the tears finally spilled at the fifth turn. Your boyfriend wasn’t suffering any less, though: his hands clung to your hips and tightened with every slap. He flinched even if he wasn’t at the receiving end of pain — or maybe he was since you couldn’t stop clenching and thrusting abruptly too. He started shaking, moaning in higher and higher pitches, the flinches turning into full-body writhing as he mumbled random things that only you understood.

He was close. You pressed down on Jisung’s chest as your thumb covered the hole in Jeongin’s cock, teasing him. Your boyfriend immediately came inside you and allowed all his cum to gush out in the smallest, prettiest series of thrusts.

Jeongin wished to cum that way, but you were literally blocking him.

He didn’t dare let go of you, though, and his shaky hands never left your hips and back. Instead, Jisung opted to stay still inside you. He brought his upper body closer to yours, whispering into the crook of your neck. Jeongin couldn’t hear it through his sniffling but was glad to hear you parrot it back.

“My good baby here said that you should treat noona well. Only then can you cum.”

Jisung hid his face in your skin but only popped his eyes out to watch his best friend. “Sorry, Innie. Please fuck noona well.”

Jeongin couldn’t believe that he had to fuck his best friend’s girlfriend with his cum inside her. Moreover, he couldn’t believe how much it turned him on even more.

“Think you can do it?” You asked with a smirk.

“Y-yes, noona.”

Not even one beat passed and Jisung propped you off of him, guiding you down on the bed. He gave Jeongin a pat on the back of his shoulder, a gesture he’d always done before.

Jisung kissed his cheek too before latching his lips onto your bare nipples for comfort.

Jisung sucked at your supple and plump skin while Jeongin positioned himself in between your pussy’s reddening lips. Even its exterior felt all sorts of soft to him, far from the quality of a silicone fleshlight. Despite this, he still knew that you would treat him like a stupid little fucktoy.

And you did.

You simply pushed Jeongin by his waist down onto your body. Suddenly his tip made its way inside, forced in with an overwhelming amount of ecstasy that Jeongin couldn’t take anymore. He still held back from cumming, breathing deeply and rapidly in a failed attempt to calm himself. He continued to cry as he sank himself further inside you, feeling the mixture of your smooth wetness and Jisung’s thick and creamy cum. It didn’t help that you were moaning so deliciously, roaming your hands around his waist, and Jisung was giggling and smiling contently while playing with your boobs.

It was all too much for Jeongin but he kept going. Your hand squeezes earlier were nothing compared to the grip of your cunt. Nevertheless, he did his best to pull back and push down to fill you up to your limit. He made sure to make you moan as soon as he found your sweet spot — he’s glad that Jisung pressed down on your skin.

“Noona, noona, fuck, god fuck…”

“She’s amazing right?” Your boyfriend smiled until his gums showed and his eyes crinkled.

“I better be,” you teased back.

He laughed in response, licking a heart shape on your nipple with his tongue. “Mhmm. I love my noona.”

“And I love my baby boy.” You signaled him with a finger to turn him around. Jisung showed you his ass and you tapped his round cheek, hitting the mole that cutely reflected his face mole. Before he knew it, you sank two fingers inside his ass.

“I’ll make you cum again, pretty boy. Show me how much you can cum with that pathetic little cunt of yours.” The words echoed through Jisung’s emptying head as he grew more and more in need. You knew that it wouldn’t be long before he was close anyway since his legs were closing and his ass seemed to clench nonstop.

“And Innie baby, please, show me how good you can make me cum.”

At this point, Jeongin truly only felt like he was good for cumming and making you cum. He mindlessly picked up his pace on your cunt, shocking you with how mind-numbingly fast he went. He grew completely desperate the more that he went, pressing every inch of your skin and moaning your name over and over. He was pathetic yet focused.

Jisung came, ass clenching around your fingers, but he couldn’t peel his gaze off the action.

He needed to cum as much as you did. He could feel your walls fluttering around him and your voice seemed to falter slightly as his thrusts became deeper and harder. You didn’t even need to command him. Your boyfriend seemed to help the both of you too, playing with your clit with one hand whilst he praised his best friend endlessly.

“Innie,” you huffed, “Inside. please.”

Jeongin blinked hard, not holding back on his whines, screaming when he finally released inside you.

His cum gushed out with load after load after load. It seemed as if he couldn’t stop, and he never could bring himself to pull out. He simply collapsed on your side, his thick cock still sunken deep inside you. You came at the same time, moaning his sweet little nickname while you felt yourself gush your essence along with his release. Jisung watched the white, creamy cum leak out of you before bringing a finger to it just to taste it.

You all tasted fucking good.

“Oh shit. I’m dizzy.” Jisung plopped his head next to yours and clung to your other side.

Your boyfriend mumbled something about the soju being rough on him before he sleepily told you that he loved you. Jeongin thought that he would be knocked out solidly after, but felt whiplash as soon as Jisung kissed his cheek again and told him the same.

“Love you both. Thank you so, so, so…”

He instantly fell asleep, his face squished next to your cheek.

You laughed lowly and turned slightly toward Jeongin. You held his face with your free hand and stroked his chin. His eyes smiled along with his dimpled cheeks in pure contentment.

“Smile more, baby. Your dimples are cute.”

He blushed hard in response. “Thank you, noona. R-really. Thank you for tonight.”

“Anytime.” You kissed his forehead and then his nose. “I love you, Innie.”

The boy melted at your words with a pretty, full-toothed grin. “I love you too, noona.”

taglist: @toastyseungmo @hobihearteu @biddes-enthusiast @snow-pegasus @subby-kpop @myrandomthoughtsandhobbies @eggielix @turnipfizzle @hanniecheesecake @chrisbahng @laylasbunbunny @ppiri-bahng @he-they-heathen @chriscentric @svintsandghosts @starryoong @bbyquokka @suengmi @fun-fanfics

this was done for mei’s day, i’m glad you enjoyed again twinnie <3 i owe it to them for being my number one, and for getting me into skz and this horny ass fandom ^^ check my bff meivida out! WISH THEM A HAPPY 20TH!!!

thank you for reading ! consider reblogging and leaving feedback if you loved my work 💗 artwork and writing © ipegchangbin. no reposts and translations.

[deadsetobsessions]

REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPT BY @out-of-jams

TOO MANY BEDS

DCXDP, GEN

——

The Wayne foundation was a giant in the corporate world. What made it impressive was that their company was based in Gotham where, despite or perhaps in spite of the frequent rogue attacks and general hostile environment, the Waynes managed to run a tight and efficient ship. Their operations run extremely smoothly.

However, that was not to say there were no mistakes. There were. Wayne Enterprises usually had enough-more than enough- budget to cover such mistakes.

The employees, after all, were humans (though their new CEO, Timothy Drake, might have been a vampire considering how pale he was) and were prone to make mistakes.

Thus, due to the nature of human mistakes, the visiting senior class of Amity Park’s Casper High found themselves in a rather baffling situation.

“Well, we can’t say there’s not enough beds.” Their chaperone-teacher, Mr. Lancer rubbed the back of his bald head.

Before them laid not ten, not twenty, but fifty five twin beds arranged in neat rows in Gotham Academy’s auditorium.

“What is this, the military?” Their other chaperone-teacher, Mr. Falluca, grumbled.

“It’s not like we haven’t slept in worse places.” Sam grimaced. The class collective shuddered as they remembered the junior camping trip from hell.

“Ugh, my hair is going to get frizzy if we sleep here.” Paulina muttered.

“I thought we were getting called here for cheer or something.” Star frowned. Her boyfriend of four years, Kwan, slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to comfort her.

The doors open as a harried Wayne Industries employee ran in.

“I am so, so sorry! This isn’t where we were supposed to have you stay but WE mistook the donation request and sent in beds instead of paying for hotel rooms!” They blurted out, looking panicked. “Your hosting class - we’ll have you meet them outside, maybe?”

“It’s fine, right guys?” Danny spoke up, arms crossed. Tucker hummed at his side, tapping quickly at his

“Yeah, whatever Fentina says,” Dash grumbled. After the reveal of Danny’s identity as Phantom, his hostility and bullying died a quick death. Though, Dash kept the nicknames as they were a hard habit to kick and there weren’t any malicious intent behind it. In fact, Dash quickly became one of Danny’s biggest supporters, hidden behind scowls and general posturing.

“We could just meet in here. Get rid of the bedframes and just have a giant sleepover while you guys get everything sorted out.” Valerie volunteered.

“That’s a great idea!”

The class, coordinated from years of ghost attacks, quickly assembled the giant floor mattress. Gotham Academy’s senior class filed in ten minutes later, gaping at the giant floor mattress(es) before whooping and joining Casper High’s seniors in tumbling around.

——

Danny threw an empty plastic water bottle at Kwan’s head.

“Hey! No PDA on the giant mattress!”

“Yeah, get that love shit out of here!” Someone else hollered.

“There might technically be only one bed, now, but it’s still multiple mattresses!” Stephanie Brown, one of Gotham Academy’s seniors heckled.

“Hey, Danny, it’s your turn for truth or dare!” Tim said.

“Truth.” Danny returned.

“Lameeee.”

“C’mon Fenturd, too chicken to do dare?”

“Danny, that’s so boring,” Sam smirked.

Danny scowled. “Hey, whose side are you on?”

Sam and Tucker grinned and said in unison, “The winning side, duh.”

Tim cut in. “So, what’s the worst thing that’s happened to you?”

Danny groaned. “Camping trip, no contest.”

“Camping trip?”

——

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Buzzed

steddie, omegaverse, modern AU, Eddie got out of Hawkins and got famous

Most days it’s easy to pretend. Steve and Robin share a house and a workplace and most of a life in Indianapolis. He can usually forget how he and Eddie almost had something.

But that was before Eddie moved to L.A. to try doing something with his music, found his way into playing a busker in an indie film that miraculously got oscar buzz, and suddenly he’s a household name, booking tons of projects.

And Steve is happy for him!

Really!

He is.

It’s just… He misses having Eddie around. How excitable and goofy he can be, but also having a thoughtful alpha to hang out with other than Robin.

Not to mention his campfire scent and the way his callused fingers feel against Steve’s skin.

They still talk occasionally, texting mostly, little check-ins every couple months, but Steve hasn’t seen Eddie in-person in at least five years.

That’s why it’s easy to pretend. Steve’s old friend, Eddie, and Eddie Munson, alpha movie star, are two different people.

Steve’s crush can exist between the pages of magazines and on internet gossip sites.

He can moon over the pics from Eddie’s photoshoots that he has saved on his phone in private. Can keep his fantasies contained in his nest as he imagines his fingers sliding into short curls.

At least until he gets a call from Dustin on an unassuming Friday night. Steve and Robin are already nearly through a bottle of wine, kicking their feet up after a long week of teaching, when Steve’s phone rings.

“Eddie’s next movie is shooting in Chicago,” Dustin starts.

“And he’s flying out early so he can stop in Indy for a week. I may have told him he should skip the hotel and stay in your guest room.”

“Dustin!”

“What? You’ve got one of the mattresses from the podcast ads in there! It’s comfy! And that way he doesn’t have to deal with paps!”

“Can you just say paparazzi like a normal person?” Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “But it should be fine. When does he get in?”

“Next weekend.”

“Dustin!”

“I only just found out! El and I are driving down in a week, and Mike and Will are only able to skype in.”

He doesn’t mention Lucas and Max, since they also live in Indy; Dustin and El are likely staying with them.

Robin elbows Steve and hisses for him to put the call on speaker, getting caught up as Steve has a private crisis at the thought of finally seeing Eddie again.

To make matters worse, his totally not stalkerish web alert for Eddie’s name pings after he hangs up with Dustin. A new photo shoot.

Eddie’s curls are gone, buzzed down to his scalp; Steve mourns for a fraction of a second.

Then he needs to squeeze his thighs together.

The wanting that he’s been squashing down for the better part of a decade comes back in full force, strong enough that Robin asks if his cycle is early and he’s going into heat.

Blushing, but knowing he can’t keep a secret from her to save his life, he shows her his phone.

“All I can see is how noticeable his ears are now,” Robin says with a judging look and a shrug. “And I am never going to buy Eddie as a tough guy, but I guess I can understand what you omegas see in him.”

“Rooooob!” Steve whines, indignant.

“Steeeeeve!” she teases back.

“I just… Fuck, I need to get laid.”

“I’m sure Eddie would if you asked him nicely.”

“Rob!”

“He looks like he could hold you down, get you to stop stressing so much.”

“Robin… I can’t think about that.”

“Sure you can.”

“I can’t.”

“You can, and you know why: The bulk of the conversations Eddie and I still have are about you. He always asks me how you are, what you’re up to, at least once a month.”

Steve’s taken aback by that. “What?”

“Yeah. He usually asks if you’re seeing anyone. Tries to sneak it in. Like I’m not going to notice.”

She raises a single eyebrow, and Steve feels intensely confused. “Then how come he doesn’t ask me? Or talk to me more?” He tips back the last of his wine and pulls his legs up tight to his chest.

“Because you’re both idiots,” Robin says, voice warm and full of love as she hugs him.

A week later, a car with dark tinted windows pulls up in Robin and Steve’s driveway.

Eddie has a baseball hat and sunglasses on as he gets out, the disguise barely enough obscure his features, but even if it were better, Steve would still recognize him by his posture.

Robin is out running errands and picking up dinner, but mostly giving Steve an hour of privacy. A chance to say something before either of them can get stuck inside their heads and fuck it up.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie says with a smile as he pulls off his sunglasses in the entryway.

“Hey yourself,” Steve replies, pulling Eddie in for a hug, ready to make it quick, only for Eddie to hold on tight and press his nose to Steve’s neck. A purr rumbles from his chest.

Steve reaches up and pulls the hat from Eddie’s head, letting it fall to the ground.

He rubs his fingers over the stubble of the alpha’s hair, keeping him pressed close to the bonding gland at his neck, his scent crying out for Eddie to claim him.

Soft lips ghost against Steve’s neck. “I missed you,” Eddie whispers.

“Missed you, too.”

Steve kisses the side of Eddie’s head, the only part he can reach, lips pressed to the velvet of his shorn hair. Then it’s like his brain suddenly catches up with him. “Sorry! We- I didn’t-”

Eddie presses a single finger to Steve’s lips, finally pulling back to look in his eyes.

Without his curls, Eddie’s gaze is somehow more intense, dark chocolate looking into Steve’s heart. “Don’t apologize, puppy. You have nothing to apologize for, not to me.”

“Eddie…”

“I’m the one who ran away, who’s been hiding instead of alpha-ing up and telling you.”

“Telling me what?” Steve asks, lower lip trembling.

“That even after all this time, I can’t get your scent out of my nose. That I still dream about you every night. That I work so much to keep from going insane missing you. That I sh-”

Steve cuts him off with a kiss.

Eddie doesn’t waste any more time, just picks Steve up, their lips still connected, and carries him to the nearest bedroom—fortunately Steve’s—and drops him on the bed. Getting out of their clothes doesn’t take long; they’ve both waited long enough.

And Robin will be home soon.

Part 2

Now expanded into a full fic! Read here

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Gridlocked {4}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: A single photo puts half of the truth out into the world. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fingering, swearing WC: 2.3k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five

Round Nineteen - Mexico 2022 You woke to a delicious smell and felt the strains of the free practices deep in your bones and every muscle protested the movements needed to get out of bed. Giving up, you laid there for a minute more, mentally preparing for the final free practice and qualifying race, before tossing the blankets back. 

You probably looked like a zombie the way you stumbled your way bleary eyed through the hotel suite to find Charles cooking breakfast. 

“Good morning, baby.” Lando grabbed you by the hips and pulled you into his lap while he waited patiently at the table.

“Just morning,” you grumbled with a yawn. “Nothing is good before noon.”

“I can think of one thing,” he teased as his fingertips traced the curve of your leg.

“Feeling a little tender, chérie?” Charles asked with a kiss to your forehead as he placed two plates on the table. “We can give you a massage after breakfast. Bon appétit.”

“Okay, maybe there’s a few good things in the morning,” you conceded before opening your mouth for the forkful of food Lando offered. “Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

“Sorry, love, Zak’s invited me and Danny to a charity event,” Lando apologised with a pout. “I’m sure Charles can take care of you all on his lonesome.”

“Of course,” Charles said with a soft smile, “but I’d rather you be with us.”

You shifted on his lap to face him and kissed your way along his jaw to his lips. “Me too.”

“Me three,” he murmured when you pulled back to finish eating.

As promised, after breakfast you found yourself lying face down on the bed with massage oil drizzled over your skin. Heavenly moans filled the pillow your face was buried in as the two of them found every knot in your muscles and eased them away with their strong hands. 

“I hope you don’t make sounds like that for Kristian,” Lando teased. He had given up helping Charles working his way along your body and instead parted your legs to focus his touch on one particular place. 

“Can’t say he’s ever fingered me,” you said before laughing at the soft spank he responded with. “Yet.” Heat burned across your ass at the smack he dealt and your yelp turned to a moan as he soothed the sensitive skin with his palm before kissing it softly. 

“I think our Lando is a little possessive of you, chérie.”

You squirmed on the mattress as his fingers worked their way back into you to find your cunt soaked for him. “I like it.”

“I’m not possessive, I just don’t want to share with you anyone else.”

You lifted your head from the pillow and found Charles’ lips pressed lightly as he tried not to laugh but the amusement was thick in his voice, “That’s what possessive means, mon cher.”

You felt sorry for Charles as he was given a three-place grid penalty for something that wasn’t entirely his own fault. It was easy for the stewards to say he could have used his wing mirrors to see George coming up behind him on his flying lap but the window of view was so small that the stars had to align to actually see anything and react in time. 

His engineer should have warned him.

The urge to go to Ferrari and find him almost won but Max called out before you could leave the garage. “Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”

“Uh, yeah, I do,” you said as you scratched the nape of your neck nervously, something that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Is it a date?” You hated how intense his scrutiny was and his eyes narrowed the longer the question went unanswered. 

“Does it matter?”

“You’re dodging the question, zusje.” Max crossed his arms and looked over your shoulder. “Who is he?”

“Who’s who?” Your mood turned sour as you heard Jos’ voice behind you. “Are you coming to dinner?”

Max shook his head. “She’s going on a date.”

“And even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t choose to spend my evening with you,” you said as you turned to face your father. 

“You have a boyfriend?” Jos asked with a tick in his jaw. “Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”

“Let’s list off the reasons. 1) it’s none of your fucking business, 2) it’s none of your fucking business, 3) it’s none of your-”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Max growled as he dropped his arm over your shoulder and turned you away. “We’ll talk about this later, go calm down somewhere.”

You stormed out of the garage without a goodbye and straight into Ferrari’s next door, ignoring the looks they gave you as you climbed the stairs to where the driver’s rooms were. 

Carlos had just opened his door as you were passing it and he looked a little dishevelled and disappointed as he sighed to himself, and you could only imagine how much worse Charles was feeling. “Tough quali for you guys,” you said as you caught his attention and accepted the hug he offered. “How’s he doing?”

“Pissed off. Xavi is probably hiding in a hole somewhere by now. I would if I were him,” he huffed a humourless laugh. “It’s good that you're going out to dinner, I don’t think he would leave his room otherwise.”

“That’s what friends are for.” You gave Carlos a little wave as he went on his way before you knocked on Charles' door. “Hey, it’s me.”

The door opened before you had even finished speaking and you slipped inside quietly as you saw the sullen look on his face. Needing to comfort him, you caught the door with your shoe and kicked it shut so you could cup his face in your hands and pull him into a kiss. 

“I forgo-” You froze against Charles as the door swung open and Carlos filled the doorway, his jaw slack as he stared wide-eyed. “What the fuck, mate,” he hissed quietly as he stepped inside and closed the door shut. “You know Max is going to kill you, right?”

“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Charles muttered as he stepped back and took your hand instead. “What did you forget?”

“Huh? Shit, I forgot.” Carlos frowned and looked back at the door. “So…Just friends, ay?”

“Not just friends,” you chuckled, squeezing Charles’ hand. “But not ready to go public just yet.”

“Because of Max?”

“Because of Lando,” Charles admitted. 

“Ohhhh, because he’s been in love with her forever and you got the girl,” Carlos nodded to himself as he spoke only to stop when you laughed. 

“Because we are dating Lando too, and it will be a PR nightmare to explain.” You laughed as Carlos’ mouth dropped open and he pointed between the two of you. “Me, Charles and Lando, yes.”

“Woooow,” he laughed as he recovered and shook his head once more. “Max is 100% going to kill the both of you. Nice knowing you, mi amigo.”

“Thanks for your support, mate,” Charles drawled sarcastically and reached for his keys. “Let’s go, amour.”

“Can I just ask…” Carlos leaned back against the door so Charles couldn’t reach the handle. Crossing his arms, Charles rolled his eyes and waited impatiently for the question. “Does she top you like in the driver standings?”

“First Pierre, now you, putain de merde,” Charles sighed and pushed Carlos out of the way as he laughed. 

But then the laughter dried up and he turned to you offended at the news. “Pierre knew before me?”

“Since Suzuka,” Charles said with a smirk knowing it would irk him more.

Carlos reeled back and his eyes widened. “What the fuck, and that pendejo didn’t tell me. How long have you been together?”

“Just before Monza.”

“Before Mon…Monza! Ay!” Carlos dragged a hand down his face. “I thought we were friends, and Lando too? That guy has never kept a secret in his life.”

You looked at Charles with a giggle. “So dramatic, is he always like this?”

“Mhmm, try being teammates with him,” Charles replied with a roll of his eyes. “He just needs time to process, and I want to get out of this place before I cross paths with Xavi.”

“Kristian would have a coronary if he saw this. I’m so full but it’s too good to waste.” The Italian restaurant Charles had found in the centre of Mexico City was beautiful but the menu was definitely not suited to your pre-race diet. “Is this your plan to slow me down tomorrow?”

Charles stroked your hand beneath the table. He had managed to get the reservation for a secluded corner booth hidden behind a thin thatch privacy wall, but you still tried to remember to be careful. “Nothing can slow you down, amour.”

“Not even the metaphorical baggage I carry around?” 

“What?” Charles choked on a laugh and had to take a drink of water to stop coughing.

“Something Lando said a while ago.” You chuckled at the memory as you twirled more creamy fettuccine around your fork. “Apparently I have daddy issues, along with his temper.”

“You’re nothing like Jos.” Charles shook his head adamantly. “Back in karting my family would come and cheer me on and I remember when Max came anything less than first place, Jos wouldn’t even clap for him. He didn’t want anything to do with him unless he was on the top of the podiums.”

“I know what an asshole my father is, you don’t need to convince me,” you muttered quietly, feeling sorry for Max’s upbringing that was vastly different to yours.

“I’ve watched you cheer for Max from the pits when you’ve had to retire early. I’ve seen how concerned you get when he’s in a crash,” he said, bringing your attention back to the present. “You’re nothing like Jos.”

Unable to articulate how grateful you were to hear those words, you instead chose an action. Charles froze with surprise for a moment when you kissed him before instinct took over and his fingers curled around your nape to deepen it further. The white wine that had been paired with the pasta was warming your body but not as much as Charles’ hand was as it crept up beneath your dress.

A throat cleared beside the table and Charles pulled back with a sigh as a waiter stood awkwardly holding a dessert menu. 

“No, we’ll take the bill, thank you,” Charles said before the young man could offer the specials. 

“You seem to be in a rush to leave all of a sudden,” you teased in his ear as the waiter left with Charles’ credit card. 

You watched his teeth bite his bottom lip before his eyes trailed down your body. “I want dessert, amour, just nothing they can offer.”

The car ride back to the hotel was tantalisingly slow and it felt like the air conditioner was set on high with the heated looks shared between you. It wasn’t until your phone rang that you were able to tear your eyes away from him and you saw the name on the ID.

“Shh, it’s Max,” you warned before answering the call. “Hey bro, how’d dinner with the donor go?”

“When were you going to tell me you were dating Charles?”  The air in your lungs froze and you knew Charles had heard the exclamation by the tightening of his fists around the steering wheel.

You knew there would be alerts going off on Kristian’s phone as the Aura ring on your finger picked up the sudden spike in your heart rate. “Wh-what makes you think that?” 

“Because you said you were going on a date and now I’m seeing pictures of you and Charles kissing.” 

A tirade of curse words tumbled from your lips, colourful enough to make Charles blush as he indicated to pull into the hotel valet entrance. It wasn’t unusual for any of the drivers to spend time outside of racing together but now the crowd waiting seemed to have a new hunger. 

“Keep driving,” you urged as you saw the cameras flashing. “Go!”

“Pull Charles on the phone,” Max growled. “We need to have words.”

“Fuck off, you’re not my father so don’t act like it.”

“In that case, here.” 

“Don’t you even think about-” you heard the phone exchange hands and hit your head against the window when you heard Jos’ voice.

“What do you think you are playing at? Do you know how this reflects on the family?”

You ended the call and turned the phone off so neither of them could ring back. “The audacity of that man! I’m sorry, Cha, I fucked up.”

“Amour,” Charles said softly as he reached across and took your shaking hand. “It will be alright, we will figure it out together.”

“Shit, Lando!” You rushed to turn your phone back on and saw the missed calls from Max, Jos and even Vicky - which was a low blow since you would have answered your little sister’s call if you had seen it. “He’s not answering.”

“He is probably still at the charity dinner,” Charles reasoned as he stroked his thumb over your hand gently. “We can’t just drive around all night, we will have to go back to the hotel at some point.”

“I know…this just changes, well, everything.”

A smile tipped up Charles’ lips as he reached a stop light and looked across to you. “It doesn’t change one thing; I love you.”

Click here for part five.

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 16

dbf!joel miller x female reader

"Tag, you're it."

summary: the dark truth came

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, pedophilia, cannibalism, human trafficking, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 16

masterlist!

previous | chapter 15

next | chapter 17

The grand façade of the five-star hotel in Atlanta towers above you, its glass exterior reflecting the city’s vibrant energy as you and Joel step inside.

The lobby is an opulent display of marble and gold, with plush furnishings inviting you to sink into their comfort. A bellboy takes your bags, and the moment the door to your suite closes behind you, the weight of the world seems to lift, leaving you with the soft hum of luxury.

You can hardly contain your exhaustion from the long drive, and the bed calls to you like a siren. As you collapse onto the plush mattress, you let out a sigh of relief.

The softness envelops you, cradling your tired body. “I thought we were running low on money?” you ask, glancing over at Joel as he leans against the door, a playful smirk on his lips.

“Yeah, well,” he says, his voice low and reassuring, “you don’t need to worry about that. Your well-being is important to me.” With that, he strides over, climbing onto the bed beside you.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. His warmth washes over you, and as he leans in, his lips brush against yours, igniting a spark that flares into a heated kiss.

You both lose yourselves in the moment, the world outside fading into a distant memory as you make out, the kisses growing deeper and more fervent, your bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces. After a blissful five or seven minutes, you pull away, breathless and smiling.

“Tomorrow is your birthday,” you remind him, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “What do you want, mister?”

“Just you,” he replies, his tone serious yet tender, a glimmer of something deeper in his gaze.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “But you already have me.”

“Then I don’t need anything else,” he insists, his sincerity wrapping around your heart like a warm blanket.

You can’t help but tease him, your fingers playfully ruffling his hair as you sit up. “C’mon, be serious. Do you want something? You gave me this beautiful necklace for my birthday. I want to give you something.”

Joel hugs you tighter, his arms strong and protective around you. “Baby, you don’t need to do that…”

But you’re persistent, determined to show your love in a way that feels tangible. “Maybe tonight, I’ll buy you something around here,” you say, the idea of surprising him bubbling up excitement in your chest.

As the sun begins to dip toward the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you both spend the morning and afternoon wrapped up in each other’s arms.

You explore the depths of passion, losing track of time in the sanctuary of your room. You love how he makes you feel—desired, cherished, and utterly safe.

By the time your knees feel weak and your body is pleasantly sore, the late afternoon sun spills golden light through the window, casting a soft glow around the room.

Joel eventually decides it’s time to venture out, to treat you to something special. “I have a surprise for you,” he says, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

He hands you a beautifully wrapped package, and when you open it, a stunning dress spills out—silky and elegant, in a deep emerald green that complements your eyes perfectly.

“Joel,” you breathe, taken aback by his thoughtfulness. “It’s gorgeous!”

“Put it on, doll,” he encourages, watching you with a smile as you slip into the dress. The fabric feels luxurious against your skin, and you twirl in front of the mirror, the dress swirling around you like a dream.

Hand in hand, you walk to the restaurant he’s chosen, the path lined with flickering street lamps and bustling with life. The atmosphere is electric, filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses, and as you step into the fancy restaurant, the scent of gourmet dishes wafts through the air.

Joel’s hand on the small of your back feels like an anchor, grounding you as you navigate the elegance of the evening. You catch glimpses of couples enjoying their meals, laughter and conversation mingling in the air like a sweet perfume. Joel leads you to a cozy table adorned with candles that flicker softly in the dim light, creating an intimate atmosphere.

As you sit down, your heart swells with gratitude. Here, in this moment, you feel cherished and adored, cocooned in the warmth of Joel’s affection.

As you both settle in, the waiter brings the drinks first—a vibrant cocktail for you, a robust whiskey for Joel. The glimmer of the glass catches the candlelight, sending dancing reflections across the table waiting for the foods you both ordered.

You take a sip, the sweetness swirling in your mouth like a warm embrace, but your attention drifts to a family seated at the table across from you.

The sight of them—two children, a boy and a girl, with laughter spilling from their lips and the warmth of belonging wrapping around them like a cozy blanket—stirs something deep within you.

You feel a pang of yearning that echoes in the hollow spaces of your heart. Oh, how you wish for that kind of life with Joel.

A home filled with love, where you could nurture little ones, providing them with the warmth and affection that was so cruelly absent from your own childhood.

You’ve always wanted a family—a sanctuary of laughter and joy, where the walls would hold stories of adventure, and every room would resonate with the echoes of happy memories.

You envision tiny feet padding softly across the floor, their innocent giggles dancing through the air like music, filling your home with life. You want to heal the wounds of your past by giving your children the kind of love you’ve never felt—by being the parent you always needed.

But a shadow of doubt clouds your mind. Is Joel ready for this? Does he even want more children after everything he’s lost? The memory of his daughter, Sarah, still clings to him like a bittersweet fragrance, a reminder of love that was once vibrant but has now dimmed.

What if he doesn’t want to marry you? The thought sends a shiver down your spine, tightening your chest as anxiety settles in. You know that asking him could change everything, and the fear of his answer lingers in the air like a fragile butterfly, ready to take flight at the slightest disturbance.

Lost in your thoughts, you stare into your glass, watching the ice clink softly against the sides. You consider broaching the topic but hesitate, the weight of your desires pulling at your heart.

Should you risk this beautiful moment for the sake of your dreams? You know you’re still young, yet the longing for a life shared with him swells within you, demanding to be heard.

“Hon?” Joel’s voice cuts through the fog of your reverie, pulling you back to the present. You meet his gaze, the warmth in his brown eyes a grounding force. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his brow furrowing in concern.

The question lingers in the air, an invitation to delve deeper into your thoughts. You feel the delicate thread of hope intertwining with your fears, the two battling for dominance in your mind.

Maybe it’s time to talk about this—to share the dreams that swirl around in your heart like autumn leaves caught in a gentle breeze.

“Nothing, really,” you reply, your voice soft as you gather the courage to speak your truth. “I was just thinking about...” The words feel heavy, laden with unspoken fears and wishes, but you tread carefully, hoping to navigate this conversation without pushing him too hard. “About us, and what the future might look like.”

Joel leans back slightly, his gaze unwavering, encouraging you to continue. “What do you mean?” he prompts, his voice a gentle nudge, urging you to share.

You take a deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs as you wrestle with your thoughts. “I just... I see families like that,” you say, nodding toward the children, “and I can’t help but dream of having something similar. A home filled with laughter and love.”

His eyes narrow slightly, processing your words. You can feel the weight of your confession hanging in the air, fragile yet profound. “Do you think we could have that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, afraid of the answer yet yearning for honesty.

As you await his response, the restaurant buzzes around you, but all that matters is this moment—the flickering candlelight, the delicate clink of silverware, and the silent hope hanging between you like a fragile thread of possibility.

Joel falls silent, his brow furrowing as he absorbs your words. His hand envelops yours, warm and reassuring, yet you can feel the weight of his thoughts pressing down like an invisible shroud. You hold your breath, the air thick with anticipation. In the depths of his gaze, you can see the flickering flames of his emotions, battling against the shadows of his fears.

He finally speaks, his voice low and steady, as if sharing a secret that only the two of you can hear. “I want a family with you, doll,” he admits, his words tumbling out with a mix of tenderness and hesitation. “I want to marry you.”

A rush of warmth floods through you at his declaration, a promise wrapped in hope. But then the storm clouds gather in his eyes, and he continues, his voice strained. “But I don’t know if all this is too soon. You’re young, and I’m getting older.”

Your heart sinks, feeling the chill of his worries seep into your bones. You can see the flicker of doubt in his eyes, and it cuts deep. “I just... I’m afraid I won’t be here for you or for any future kids,” he confesses, a shadow passing over his features. Tomorrow, he will turn 50, a milestone that carries both wisdom and an aching sense of time slipping through his fingers like sand.

The thought of having children at his age weighs heavily on him. “I had Sarah too young, right after high school,” he continues, his voice heavy with reflection. “I don’t know if I’m ready again. You deserve someone younger, someone you can grow old with.”

His words hit you like a cold wave, and you feel the need to push back against the tide of his doubts. “Don’t you say that, Joel,” you insist, your voice firm yet gentle. “You’ll be fine with me. I’m never going to leave you.”

A pause lingers between you, filled with the electric tension of your hearts colliding. “Baby, I understand,” he replies, the vulnerability in his tone slicing through the air like a fine knife. “I want to marry you so bad. I will, one day.”

You can see the struggle in his eyes, the inner battle raging as he grapples with his fears and hopes. “But I don’t know about having kids…” His voice trails off, leaving the unsaid hovering between you like a fragile wisp of smoke, swirling and twisting in the candlelight.

Your heart aches for him, for the man who has faced so much loss and heartache. You wish you could wrap him in a cocoon of comfort, shielding him from the shadows that loom in his mind. “Joel, I want you to know that it’s okay to be scared,” you say softly, squeezing his hand. “I’m scared too. But what we have—it’s real. It’s worth fighting for.”

In that moment, the world around you fades away. The noise of the restaurant, the laughter, the clinking of glasses—it all blurs into the background as you focus solely on the man before you. His fear, his love, and the intricate tapestry of both weave together in a way that is raw and beautiful.

“I want to build a life with you,” you continue, your voice steady, grounding. “I want to create a home filled with love, with you by my side. We don’t have to rush into anything, but let’s not let fear keep us from dreaming.”

His gaze softens, the flicker of hope returning, and you can see the cracks in his armor. You are a light in his darkness, and you feel the shift in the air as he processes your words. In that moment, you know you’re both standing at the precipice of something extraordinary, a bridge between your dreams and his fears, ready to take a step forward together.

***

After dinner, the two of you decided to explore the vibrant streets of Atlanta, your hands intertwined as you strolled through the lively atmosphere. The night was electric, the air thick with laughter and the distant echo of music drifting from nearby bars. But as the evening deepened, you found yourself gravitating toward the inviting warmth of a jazz bar, the sultry melodies beckoning you inside.

The bar was alive, filled with a cacophony of voices, laughter, and the smooth sounds of a saxophone serenading the crowd. You nestled into a corner table with Joel, who seemed captivated by the performance, his gaze fixed on the stage, a gentle smile gracing his lips. He leaned back, losing himself in the rhythm, while you couldn’t help but marvel at how this moment felt like a scene from a classic movie—a snapshot of two souls caught in the magic of the night.

As the night wore on, the atmosphere around you pulsed with energy, but you felt a flicker of mischief spark within you. You decided to slip away under the guise of fetching something from your room, an excuse that would allow you to find the perfect gift for Joel. “I’ll be quick and back here,” you assured him, your voice bright with excitement.

He nodded, handing you the key with a small smile. “Alright, I’ll hold down the fort,” he said, oblivious to your true intentions.

Instead of heading to your room, you dashed to the watch store next to the hotel, heart racing with excitement. You slipped him some cash, knowing he wouldn’t mind—this was your chance to surprise him. The chime of the doorbell announced your entrance, and the warm, inviting atmosphere wrapped around you like a soft blanket.

As you browsed the selection, a sense of determination fueled your steps. Joel always wore that old, broken watch; you wanted to replace it with something new, something that signified your shared journey. The shopkeeper engaged you in cheerful conversation, but a nagging feeling began to creep in, an unsettling sense that someone was watching you. You glanced over your shoulder, but the store was filled with strangers, each lost in their own world.

You shook off the unease, focusing on the task at hand. After a brief search, you found the perfect watch—a sleek, timeless piece that felt like it belonged on Joel's wrist.

You purchased it, the wrapping paper crinkling under your fingers as you prepared to make your way back. But as you stepped out of the store, that feeling returned, a prickling sensation along your spine, urging you to hurry.

You went to your room first to put the gift under the night desk and then hurry back to go back to the bar, your heart racing as you spotted Joel still seated at the same spot, engrossed in the music.

He looked up, his brow furrowing in concern as you approached. “What took you so long?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You feigned fatigue, stifling a yawn. “I’m tired,” you murmured, leaning against him, feeling the warmth radiate from his body.

He stood, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, his jacket falling around you like a protective cocoon. “Let’s go to bed, baby,” he said, his voice low and soothing.

Once back in your hotel room, he guided you to the bed, laying you down gently. The soft sheets enveloped you, and as you closed your eyes, you felt his hands carefully unzipping your dress, replacing it with comfortable pajamas.

You could sense his tenderness, the way he was taking care of you as if you were something precious.

Just as sleep began to pull you under, Joel’s phone buzzed, interrupting the tranquility. A frown creased his forehead as he read the text from Tommy.

"Joel. Need to talk to you ASAP. Call me.”

You could feel the tension in the air shift, the weight of concern settling over him like a heavy cloak. “Joel, come to sleep with me,” you murmured, your words laced with sleepiness and a desire for closeness.

But his heart raced at the urgency of Tommy’s message, a sense of dread creeping in. “I have to call Tommy,” he replied, a hint of reluctance in his voice. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going? Don’t leave me,” you pleaded, the fog of sleep clinging to your mind.

"I'll be right back, you go to sleep, don't wait for me," He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, a promise lingering in the air as he slipped out of the room and locked the door behind him.

You watched him go, the warmth of his presence lingering like the fading glow of a candle. Alone in the room, you felt the shadows lengthen, and the unease that had chased you earlier returned, whispering doubts into the silence.

What was so urgent that he had to step away?

Meanwhile, outside, Joel walked toward the outdoor bar, the cool night air hitting him like a splash of cold water. He dialed Tommy’s number, anxiety bubbling just below the surface. The music from the bar faded into a distant murmur, replaced by the rapid thumping of his heartbeat.

“Tommy, what’s going on?” Joel’s voice was low, laced with the urgency of a storm brewing on the horizon.

Each word hung in the air like a fragile note in a symphony, the tension coiling around him as he braced for the storm that was about to unfold.

“Joel, her parents are missing,” Tommy’s voice crackled through the line, a jolt of electricity that shot straight to Joel’s core.

Confusion washed over him like a tidal wave. “What?” he managed, the word slipping from his lips like a prayer in the face of dread.

Tommy explained, his words tumbling out in a rush. Days ago, your parents had stormed into his home, frantic and wild-eyed, demanding to know where you were and where Joel had taken you. They had been like a tempest, filled with anger and desperation, leaving Tommy shaken and frustrated.

Now, days had passed, and whispers of their absence crept through the town like an unsettling shadow. “The church says they’re missing. No one has seen them,” Tommy said, the weight of fear heavy in his voice.

“They fucking knew you're in Atlanta,” Tommy continued, the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Joel's heart dropped, a chill creeping through his veins. “What? How the fuck did they know?”

“Evelyn,” Tommy replied, his voice tight with anger. “Her mom manipulated Maria to tell her where she is. She promised Maria that she just wanted to meet her, that she wouldn’t tell her husband. But you know how it is. Maria is a mother—she felt sorry for Evelyn, so she let it slip. I'm so sorry, Joel."

Joel’s fists clenched at his sides, anger surging through him like fire. “How could you let your wife snitch, Tommy?!”

“Joel, she just felt sorry for her! She’s a mother too!” Tommy countered, his frustration evident. “You know how emotions run deep in situations like this.”

A harsh breath escaped Joel as he wrestled with his rage. “And now they’re coming for us. We’re not safe anymore.”

“Listen to me,” Tommy said, urgency lacing his voice. “You need to move tonight. It’s been two days; they’re probably already in Atlanta, tracking you down. You need to get to Miami tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow, but you have to lay low now. Pack everything. Leave tonight, Joel.”

Each word carried a blend of reassurance and unease, but before they could delve deeper, chaos erupted in the background. A scream echoed from the phone, and Maria’s voice cut through the air, followed by a loud pounding at the door.

“Police! Don’t move!” The command reverberated, sending chills down Joel's spine. Panic surged within him, a wild creature clawing at his insides. “Tommy, what’s going on?” he shouted through the phone, desperation threading through his tone.

But before Tommy could respond, the line went dead, severed like a fragile thread. Joel’s heart raced, dread curling around his mind like a creeping vine. He tried to call back, but his phone had died, leaving him in a whirlwind of uncertainty.

"Fuck!"

***

Tommy stood frozen in the chaotic scene unfolding in his home, Maria and Ellie trembling beside him as they were ordered to raise their hands, kneeling on the cold floor, surrounded by a swarm of police officers.

The tension was palpable, the air thick with anxiety and confusion. “What’s going on?” he demanded, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at his insides.

One of the officers stepped forward, a grave expression etched on his face. “Are you Tommy Miller, Joel Miller’s younger brother?”

“Yes, what’s going on?” Tommy replied, confusion bubbling within him, spiraling into concern.

The officer gestured to the floor, a stack of papers in his hands. “We need to ask you some questions regarding your brother. Is this his property?” he asked, pointing to the house in Houston that belonged to Joel.

Tommy felt his heart plummet. “Yes."

"Where is your brother now, Mr. Miller?”

Ellie’s eyes widened, a spark of panic igniting in her voice. “What’s going on, Tommy?” She looked to him, fear etched in her young features, and he struggled to maintain a calm façade for her sake.

“I don’t know. He left months ago. What’s the problem, officer?” Tommy’s voice wavered slightly, his mind racing with thoughts of Joel’s well-being.

The officer hesitated, a grim expression painting his face. “Are you in contact with your brother?”

“No, What’s going on?” Tommy say try to calm in front of his family.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to come to the station with me,” the officer said, his voice firm yet devoid of hostility. “It’s alright. We just need to ask you some questions.”

“What’s going on?” Tommy demanded again, dread coiling around him, tightening like a noose.

The officer’s words fell like shards of broken glass, each one slicing through the air with brutal precision. “We found Reverend Tony Gibson and his wife’s bodies inside your brother’s Houston house. And we discovered the remains of Father Ben Anderson and Jamie Lee buried in the backyard. We believe your brother is the killer.”

Tommy felt his world tilt, like the ground beneath his feet had been torn away, leaving him suspended in a void of disbelief. The truth, heavy and suffocating, crushed against his chest. It couldn’t be. Joel? The man who had bled for his family, who had protected and sacrificed… a killer? The words reverberated in his head, but they didn’t settle. Instead, they churned like a storm, throwing everything into chaos.

***

Meanwhile, downstairs at the bar, Joel sat in the eye of his own storm, gripping a cigarette between his lips, staring out into the dim light with a mind that churned restlessly. He couldn't afford to panic. Panic clouded judgment, and judgment was the only thing keeping you both alive.

The bitter sting of whiskey still lingered on his tongue, mixing with the acrid smoke as he paced, his boots scuffing against the rough outdoor pavement. His thoughts moved in a fevered rush: What if they find us? What if they take her away? I can’t lose her…

The thought hit him with the force of a wrecking ball, his heart twisting painfully inside his chest. You had become the tether to his sanity, the one fragile thread of goodness that kept him from unraveling completely.

If they took you, it would be like losing his daughter and wife all over again. The thought was unbearable.

As he dragged in another breath of smoke, someone bumped into him, jarring him from his dark thoughts. “Oh, so sorry, my friend,” the man said, his voice oily and smooth.

Joel turned, eyes narrowing as he took in the stranger. "It’s alright," Joel muttered, but something about the man’s posture, his voice—it scratched at the back of Joel’s mind.

He had seen him before. Where? The man's gaze lingered a moment too long, and then he smiled—a wide, unsettling smile that crawled up the edges of his mouth like something out of a nightmare—before turning and walking away.

Joel's stomach churned with unease as the man disappeared into the night. He flicked the last of his cigarette into the street, watching the ember sizzle as it was swallowed by the rain-soaked ground. A chill ran down his spine. He didn’t have time to puzzle over strange men and familiar faces. He had to get to you.

Up in the room, you were tangled in the softness of sleep, a temporary reprieve from the endless fear that had become your constant companion.

But something stirred you—an unease in the pit of your stomach, or maybe just thirst. You reached out beside you, feeling the empty, cool space where Joel should have been. His absence sent a pang of loneliness through you.

Groggy, you slipped out of bed, your bare feet cold against the floor as you padded towards the bathroom. The hum of the TV filled the quiet, a distant murmur that felt comforting in the otherwise silent room. You left it on, just to chase away the shadows of isolation.

The tap water was cool, sliding down your throat as you drank, but it did nothing to quell the growing unease. And then, the door creaked open behind you. “Joel?” you called out, your voice still thick with sleep as you set the glass down. You turned toward the door, half-expecting his familiar silhouette to fill the frame.

But there was no answer.

The silence was unsettling, creeping under your skin like ice. You moved out of the bathroom, glancing around the room. It was empty. The door was closed again, as if no one had ever entered.

“Joel?” you called out again, the uncertainty now sharp in your voice.

And then the TV flickered, the volume suddenly blaring, a reporter’s voice slicing through the quiet. You turned, your heart thudding in your chest as the words sank in.

“Breaking news—Texas police have discovered the remains of Father Ben Anderson and Jamie Lee, as well as the bodies of Reverend Tony Gibson and his wife, Evelyn Gibson. All found inside the Houston home belonging to successful Texas construction businessman Joel Miller.”

The reporter's voice filled the room, chilling you to the core. “The police suspect that Joel Miller is responsible for the deaths. His whereabouts remain unknown, and no motive has been identified.”

Then, Joel’s photo appeared on the screen, his face a familiar sight, the man that has saved you. The man that you love so much. “If you see this man,” the reporter continued, “please contact the FBI immediately.”

Your heart stopped as the world crashed down around you. No. No. This can't be true. The world around you tilted, your breath caught in your throat. It wasn’t possible.

The photograph flashed again on the screen—Joel’s face staring back at you. The man you trusted, the man who had saved you. He couldn’t have done this. He couldn’t have killed them…

Your heart pounded wildly as the room began to close in on you. Fear tangled with confusion, twisting in your gut. How? How could this be? 

Joel had been with you—he hadn’t even seen your parents for months. The police were wrong. They had to be. But the panic was relentless, clawing at your chest, suffocating you with questions.

And then you heard it. A sound. The floor creaked behind you. You spun around, fear surging like wildfire through your veins. “Joel?” you called, your voice trembling now, barely more than a whisper.

No answer.

Instead, a hand clamped over your mouth, smothering your scream before it could escape.

“Hello, darlin’,” a familiar voice purred into your ear, dark and twisted. No, no, no. Your heart dropped, icy terror flooding your veins. 

Not him. Please, not him.

You struggled, but his grip was iron, his breath hot against your skin. “Oh, finally, you’ll be mine, little lamb,” he whispered, his words like poison, seeping into your bones.

His free hand gripped a syringe, and before you could cry out again, you felt the sharp sting of the needle piercing your skin.

“Tag, you’re it,” he hissed, his voice low and menacing as the drug slipped into your bloodstream, pulling you into darkness.

The world blurred around you, the room spinning as your legs buckled beneath you. Your vision dimmed, the edges of the world fraying like an old photograph. And then, everything faded to black.

But even as you fell into the void, one thought burned through the haze: Joel.

***

Joel stubbed out his cigarette, the embers smoldering like the thoughts consuming his mind. He moved towards the elevator, the weight of the world pressing down on his chest.

His hands fumbled in his pockets, searching for the room key that wasn’t there. Damn it, he thought, retracing his steps, trying to recall if he had left it upstairs.

He didn't want to disturb you, already knowing you were probably fast asleep. His exhaustion made the world blur, but his urgency heightened every sense as he turned back towards the lobby.

“Hi,” he said at the front desk, leaning heavily against the counter. “I left my key in room 313. My girlfriend’s asleep, and I don’t want to wake her. Could you give me a spare?”

The receptionist offered a polite smile. “Of course, sir, but I’ll need to verify it first. Could you show me the receipt we sent to your email when you checked in?”

Joel, nodding absentmindedly, pulled out his phone, the device trembling in his hand as he scrolled through his emails. “Yeah, here,” he muttered, showing her the screen.

The receptionist looked it over and disappeared briefly. As Joel waited, his gaze drifted to the television hanging above the desk. The news flashed across the screen, pulling him from his thoughts with the force of a train wreck.

The reporter's voice sliced through the haze. “...suspected in the murders of Tony and Evelyn Gibson, with the remains of Father Ben Anderson and Jamie Lee found buried at his property in Houston.”

His body froze, heart pounding in his chest like a drum. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. His breath caught in his throat, his pulse deafening in his ears.

The mention of your parents’ deaths sent a tidal wave of dread crashing over him. He was drowning in it, unable to catch his breath.

They found the bodies. They found everything.

“Here’s your key, sir.” The receptionist’s voice barely registered as Joel snatched it from her and bolted towards the elevator, his mind a maelstrom of terror.

Someone had set him up.

He hadn't buried Ben and Jamie at his house—he buried them far from there, deep in the desert. And he didn't fucking killed your parents.

Someone was playing with him.

And the one thought ringing out like a church bell in his mind was you. He need to get you out of here, now.

The elevator doors slid open, but Joel barely noticed. His movements were frantic as he rushed down the hallway, bursting into the room. The air was too still, too quiet.

His heart thudded in his chest as he called your name, the words heavy with panic. Without looking to the bedroom, "Baby, we need to leave. Now. Pack your things." He moved straight to the bathroom to pack things, but there was no reply.

“Doll?” His voice cracked, the terror bleeding through as he searched the suite, opening doors, ripping back curtains. The emptiness swallowed him.

You were nowhere to be found.

His breath grew shallow, panic clawing at his insides as he tore through the room. Then, he saw it—a note beneath the blankets on the bed.

His hands trembled as he picked it up, unfolding the paper with dread sinking its claws into his gut.

"I told you to be careful and keep her safe, didn't I? Now this sweet delicious little lamb will be mine forever, my friend.

And you will never see her again.

P.S. Thank you for making it simple for me by the way, oh, and I killed the parents. You're welcome."

The words seared into his mind like a brand, a taunt that stoked the flames of his rage. His pulse roared in his ears, blood rushing hot and violent. 

Who is this? How had he missed the signs? How had he allowed this to happen? He should’ve seen it coming. Joel's hands clenched into fists, the note crumpling in his grip.

He's a mess, unraveling, his thoughts spiraling into chaos. Every fiber of his being screamed for vengeance, but fear gnawed at the edges of his control.

The man—the one who had been watching him, the one who had been following them—it had to be him. That same eerie smile flashed through his memory, the unsettling familiarity of the stranger who bumped into him earlier.

Chicago, the word echoed in his mind. He remembered the voice, the cryptic warning. He’d been too careless, too wrapped up in his own guilt and fear to see it. Now, you were gone.

Joel screamed, a raw, guttural sound that filled the suite like a wounded animal. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t breathe. You were gone, taken, and it was all his fault.

His vision blurred, anger and despair blurring the edges of his reality. He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t.

He stumbled to gather his things, tossing everything into a bag with shaking hands. His mind raced, but one thought rose above the chaos.

He had to find you. No matter what it took, no matter how far he had to go, Joel would burn the world down to bring you back to him.

He wouldn’t lose you. Not to some monster. Not again. Not ever.

As he sped down the highway, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, the world outside blurred into darkness. The FBI was after him, the law branded him a killer, but none of it mattered.

He would find you. He had to.

[trendywaifus]

just a short thirst. i’m down bad for her.

imagine topaz as your ex girlfriend chasing you down for a hot minute since you’ve been evading your taxes to spite her. she finally has you cornered in belobog, demanding you to pay what you owe to the ipc. you refuse to and she’s ready to arrest you. topaz pauses for a brief moment before her eyes lights up; peach lips stretching into a sly smile.

“ i can arrest you on the spot or, “ her gloved finger runs along your jaw sensually. “ we can discuss a different way to pay what you owe at the goethe hotel tonight. “

flustered by her suggestive actions, you stammer, “ a-are you serious right now, topaz? “

she chuckled, her gaze narrowed with desire and longing that she didn’t care to hide. topaz backs away. “ you’ll see how serious i am once you come. meet me at the hotel by 9:00pm sharp and i’ll escort you to my room. don’t be late, yeah? “ she smirks at you before walking off.

when you do meet topaz at the hotel at the designated time, she’s visibly in triumph. she’s excited to finally get her hands on you after so long. as much as she hates you for making her chase you around, she misses the way you made her feel intimately. after topaz takes you to her room, she immediately closes the door and locks it shut.

before you can speak, she lightly shoves you down on the bed. she grins down on you with a predatory glint in her purple teal eyes. she presents to you a single golden coin on her open palm. “ let’s play a little game of heads and tails. its simple, if the coin lands on heads, i’ll let you go and you don’t have to worry about paying a dime to the ipc. if it lands on tails, “ the corner of her lips grows wider with excitement, “ consider yourself in debt to me and you’ll have to pay your dues with your body for the next 300 years (300 years is outlandish!). “

she flips the coin in the air. you pray that it’s tails head so you can get away from your hot ex. when it lands back on her palm, her face turns smug, and you damn near fainted on the mattress. topaz walks in-between your legs and drops to her knees. her deft gloved fingers fiddles with the waistband of your pants/skirt. you stopped her hands bashfully, “ w-wait, i thought we were suppose to discuss? isn’t 300 years past both of our lifetimes?! “

topaz licks her lips, “ oh (name), we did discuss—with the coin flip. and, the 300 years was merely just an exaggeration—but I’m sure you do owe me at least over five hundred thousand worth of credits. “

within ten minutes, you’re on your back, fingers tangled in her white locks as her tongue and fingers has you seeing literal stars. you’re sobbing, begging for her to stop overstimulating you. too bad for you, this was only just the beginning.

[ladykailitha]

Just a goofy little thing that’s been on my mind the last couple of days.

Steddie The Dating Game style!

Steve is the one asking questions and they have given him three choices: Tommy the Prep, Billy the Punk, and Eddie the Metalhead.

The first question Steve asks is if they were trying to impress him on their first date, what would they do?

Tommy: I’d pick you up in my Jag, fly you out to the French Riveria and have champagne on the terrace watching the sun set.

Billy: I’d pick you up in my Camero, drive you to the fanciest restaurant in town, taking you to a five star hotel and fuck you into the mattress.

Eddie is looking over at these assholes like WTF: I’d find out your favorite places to go, start with making you breakfast in bed, take you out for a picnic of all your favorite foods, then do something fun like the roller rink or mini-golf. And then take you star gazing to finish the day.

Steve is stunned by all their answers, but Eddie’s the most.

As it goes on, Tommy’s answers get more and more extravagant and Billy’s gets more and more lewd. Eddie is trying to stay out of the pissing contest the other two seem to be engaging in.

Even Steve is getting tired of it. So he asks an offbeat question designed to throw Billy off and get him to shut up.

Steve: How do you feel about male lingerie?

Billy is confused and asks what that even is.

The host explains that it’s men’s underwear designed and made of the same materials that is found in women’s lingerie, but made to fit the broad shoulders, flat chest, and dick of men.

Billy frowns: For you or for me?

Steve rolls his eyes. He knows better than to say Billy: Me.

Billy smirks: You’d wear it once, Babe, and then I would rip it of you and fuck you until screamed my name.

It was exactly as disgusting as Steve thought it would be. 

Eddie leans into the microphone even though it wasn’t his question: If that’s what you liked, I would buy as many as you wanted in all the best colors. Black of course. Red for sure. Maybe even a little pink one for kicks (cue Steve turning pink). I’d even do a little photo shoot for you in your favorites and then lovingly removed to make love with you.

Steve who had already been leaning toward Eddie for the sheer fact he wasn’t an ass like the other two, is smitten.

After he picks Eddie and they are getting ready for their date, he confesses that the question was meant to throw Billy, but after Eddie’s answer, he almost wants to try it. With Eddie.

Come to find out, Eddie was just as rich as the other two, he just wanted to make sure Steve had fun and not just throw money at him.

They quickly become the show’s biggest success story.

[aristocratic-otter]

 Thank you to the people who don’t forget me when I’m gone for weeks (and I think there’s more, I noticed @moodandmist tagged me when I was scrolling Tumblr earlier, but I didn't get the notif. It’s this damn “only five tags” issue on Tumblr. So if I’m not mentioning getting your tags, that’s probably why) : @monbons, @rimeswithpurple, @artsyunderstudy, @roomwithanopenfire,

@best--dress, @whatevertheweather,

@noblecorgi, @alexalexinii,  @hushed-chorus, @larkral, @nausikaaa,

@blackberrysummerblog, @cutestkilla,  @thewholelemon, @youarenevertooold.

It’s been a really rough start to the work year, and this was the first weekend in a while I got significant words written. And, as always, I can count to six, but I just don’t care. So here you go, some amount of sentences from each of my current fics :)

From Saving Simon Snow 

My wings are slapping gracelessly at the air as I climb. They burn. The air is thin this high, there’s not as much for my wings to catch on, to push me higher. I force them to pump harder. I’ve got to get away or I’ll go off. 

But I can’t go off.

The feeling bubbling under my skin is the same, though.

From Snow Fox: 

“Why aren’t you blinded by prejudice?” I want to know. Even I had trouble with the concept of two men in love, right at first. How was my mother more accepting than me?

Now my mother’s smile is sad. “Did I tell you I had an older brother, when I was a child in Hindustan?”

Her phrasing is ominous.  ‘Had’ an older brother…”What happened to him?” I ask quietly.

From Cupid’s Shield

I made the decision, while Baz panted into my ear after his second orgasm, that I was done being a passive partner. So when he starts to shift his hips again, I plant my left foot onto the mattress and use that leverage to flip him under me. 

He stiffens for a minute, caught unawares. His hands claw at my sides, trying to bring our bodies back together. 

He’s going to succeed in a moment. I’ve got no illusions about my ability to win against Baz in a battle of strength. So I have about two seconds to put my plan into motion. 

From Stars, Flowers and Children

My breath hitches in my chest as I sob from the pain. I gave up being brave about the second hour after it happened. It’s actually less painful now, but it still throbs, sending stabs of pain that arc through me. My foot has swollen up and turned red, but that’s not the worst of it. I’m going to die, I think. 

I’m going to die alone, and Simon will never know, unless he finds my body.  

From TikTok Dancer: I’m in a very smutty scene right now, so my new strategy is this: lots of [redacted]s

All of a sudden, this whole scenario strikes me as faintly ridiculous. I bark a laugh into the (hopefully) empty night. 

Snow gasps as [redacted]  “Wh—what? What’s fu—funny?” His voice wobbles [redacted]. 

“Is there,” I grunt, pausing to [redacted]  “Is there,” I repeat, “a reason we’re outside, when I’ve got a lovely, expensive, and very empty hotel room we could be fucking in?”

From The Rat and the River 

One moment we’re in the middle of the jungle, and the next, we’re standing in front of the village. Though there’s not much separation between the two. Other than a slim tributary of the Amazon river snaking through the centre of the town, where houses built on stilts are lining the edge, most of the homes have been built right up against the forest. It’s an eclectic mix of huts, with wood walls, but thatched roofs, and bigger, more modern houses, with steeply sloping metal roofs. 

We take in all of this in seconds. What takes us longer to notice is the nearly complete absence of noise from the town.

From my Visitor Baz AU (still working on a title)

I’d thought that how it works is, a visitor passes on his message and then passes through the veil, never to return. At least, that’s how it works in every account I’ve ever read on the subject. And I’ve read a lot of accounts–I’m a vampire child of a murdered mother. Few people would have more reason to cross the veil than Natasha Grimm-Pitch. And few children would have more reason to doubt that their own mother would want to visit them. 

I’m one of the creatures that killed her, after all. 

At least, I was. 

Believe it or not, I’ve (willingly!) signed up for two more fics and am deep in the planning stages for them. They’re for CORB and I’m super excited for them! I’ll probably have an excerpt from each next time I manage one of these updates. 

Tags and air kisses to: @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @bazzybelle, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed, 

@frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @melodysmash, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, 

@mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @raenestee, @tea-brigade, @upuntil6am,

@whogaveyoupermission, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @krisrix, @shemakesmeforget, @confused-bi-queer,

@nightimedreamersghost, @angelsfalling16, @mooncello, @shrekgogurt, @cosmicalart, 

@theearlgreymage, @Iamamythologicalcreature, @ileadacharmedlife, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @j-nipper-95,

@letraspal, @facewithoutheart, @wellbelesbian, @martsonmars, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe,

@ic3-que3n, @thewholelemon, @bookish-bogwitch, @skeedelvee, @prettygoododds,

@ivelovedhimthroughworse, @messofthejess, @emeryhall, 

[snoozerfinemattress]

Is back pain ruining your sleep? It’s time to get the restful sleep you deserve. Upgrade your mattress with Snoozer – the world’s most advanced orthopaedic mattress for back pain designed to provide superior support and comfort for a peaceful night’s sleep.

[pranasleepnaturalmattress]

Talk with our experts to get the right guide on a best cotton mattress, softness and many more features. Explore our pranasleep website to learn more about the mattress.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

!! for the hugs list, 35 with whatever OfA holders are your fancy!

35. cuddle pile || wc: 400+ || it's the OFA band AU, and specifically, it's holders 1-5!

(had to illustrate the final configuration)

//

On the occasions where One for All didn’t get their perfect room order--doubles, down the line, with three people to a room--it was rarely a matter of money. Bruce knew how to take a budget and make it work, especially when their hotel budget doubled as their purse for medical expenses. His greatest enemy, even more than Yoichi’s brother’s persistent demand that One for All contract under his record label, was their trip schedule.

It’s all well and good to say that One for All goes where the chaos does. It’s another thing entirely to be forced into two singles, five and four to a room, because Bruce had to find a last-minute motel.

The motel has a one-star review. And still, there’s just the two vacancies.

“This is cozy,” says Banjo, deeply amused.

Shinomori, by virtue of being the tallest, is consigned to the center of the Western-styled queen-sized bed. He refused point-blank to get under the covers, so they had to break out the emergency blankets and arrange themselves on either side of Shinomori.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Kudou declares. He jostles Bruce in an attempt to get away from the edge of the mattress, and the force pushes him into Shinomori, which affects Banjo, and to a lesser effect, Yoichi.

“You’ll catch something,” says Yoichi. He’s skinny enough to get away with slinging half his body over Banjo’s broader frame; his tendency to be a strangling octopus in the middle of the night might cause Banjo to flail. Bruce will care about that later, when he’s not sweating his ass off being tucked between Kudou and Shinomori. He has to keep his hair up in a bun.

“If it’s cold enough that I’ll get sick, that’s a huge bonus.”

“Did I say you’d get sick?” Yoichi asks, dry. “I said you’d catch something.”

“Cockroaches,” Shinomori offers.

Bruce recalls the multitude of one-star reviews he forced himself to ignore. Reluctantly, he traps one of Kudou’s legs. They’re already lucky that the bed was clean under the UV light. It would be a miracle for the carpet to appear the same.

“You think they’re having this problem in the other room?” Banjo wonders out loud.

“If the line-up is Toshinori, Shimura, Torino, and En, it should be fine,” Bruce says. “Any other arrangement, and we’ll see who survives to morning.”

“I’m not going to survive,” Kudou grouches.

“Hush,” Yoichi orders, and Bruce feels long spidery fingers skate over his stomach to touch Kudou. There’s a huff of amusement that can only come from Banjo, because Yoichi guiltily murmurs an apology.

Banjo says, “No problem, Shodai. Who said personal space was a necessity, again?”

Placidly, Shinomori declares, “Danger Sense will alert me if you try to climb over, Nidaime.”

[pinkanonwrites]

Stargazers, New and Old

Another Vash fic! Forgive me, TWST Fans, I’m so deep in the paint on this guy it isn’t even funny.

Vash the Stampede/Reader, +3,000 Words, GN!Reader, Mutual Pining, Cuddling, Stargazing

Through your shared time as drifters, you and Vash had spent plenty of time together beneath the stars.

Granted, it was usually from the roof of whatever cheap hotel the two of you were staying at for the night, tearing into snacks and idly chatting about whatever Vash had or hadn’t accidentally managed to blow up that day. There’d even be a celebration sometimes, if things went right! Townsfolk would spill into the street, drinking and dancing and celebrating another one of Vash’s many perfectly timed victories as they piled your table high with heaped praise and overflowing mugs of alcohol. As hectic as they could end up being, you often got plenty of enjoyment out of the fuss, watching Vash stumble around sheepish and drunk as his praises were sung up to the starry evening sky.

But if you honestly had to choose? You’d say you enjoyed nights like these much better.

Sometimes Gunsmoke’s two suns would sink deep into the horizon and the two of you would find yourselves between towns, lost to the sands of the evening desert. Not too often, really. Usually Vash was quick to make sure you had at least the basic amenities readily nearby: food, running water, a creaky old motel mattress that was only barely better than sleeping on the floor. He was fine going without them for an evening or two, but he hated to put you out in any way. But sometimes you’d get stopped up along the way, or have to stealth around a bandit camp, or get distracted watching wild Thomases scamper up and down the sandy hillsides, and end up somewhere in the empty desert, iles from the nearest town.

Luckily both of you were prepared for this kind of thing at this point, Vash even proudly showing off some of his little “survival trinkets” he’d scooped up before meeting you, like a miniature campfire set that packed away into a pocket-sized tin.

“Ta-da!” And that was where the two of you found yourselves now, tucked around the fire at the base of a large dune, Vash presenting you with a metal camping mug full of instant noodles with all the pride and bravado of a chef presenting a five-course meal. “Your majesty, may I present…. Dinner!”

"Why thank you, chef." You took the mug with both hands, letting the warm metal soothe the calluses on your palms. As Vash prepared himself a mug you cracked him a sly smile. "Or are you more my court jester?"

"What, was 'knight in shining armor' already taken?" He chuckled, cupping his own mug in his gloved palms and sipping carefully. "YEOWCH! Still pretty hot! Be careful, m'kay?"

"I will." You blew on your own cup of broth before sipping it. Shuffling over a bit, you let yourself lean heavily into Vash’s side, leeching his excess body heat. A single glance up showed the rosy-red blush that began to creep across his face at the contact, but you chose not to comment on it. “It’s really amazing how cold the desert can get during the night.”

“It’s actually because there’s no humidity. Without the water in the air to hold the heat, it cools off a lot faster.” Vash took another slow slurp of his noodles, staring out over the vast landscape beyond your tiny fire. “Deathly hot in the daytime, dangerously cold in the night… It’s a really formidable place.” A familiar, distant expression overtook Vash’s face at that. He did his best to hide it from you but you’d long since caught on to it, those moments where his walls faltered and you could damn near watch in real time as the melancholy of a man who had seen far too much began to creep in along the edges.

“And yet, here we are.” You simply responded, gesturing to the small campfire with your mug before holding it up to Vash. You never really felt like you could offer him much in these moments, simple placations and apologies feeling far too hollow. But at the very least, you could offer this. “Cheers to surviving? Despite everything?”

He chuckled, low, soft, and tired, bringing his cup up to yours to clink the metal rims together. “Despite everything.”

You let your head thump gently against Vash’s shoulder, the two of you absorbing the cool silence of the desert night. There was little need for words between sips of noodles and broth; the silence with Vash never crept into uncomfortable. As the fire and your supper dwindled in unison the sky inched ever further towards utter blackness. With no towns within a good dozen or so iles in any direction the deep velveteen shades of space were even more apparent than usual, long strips of indigo and blue speckled with pinpoints of distant light. 

“All done?” Vash finally spoke up, taking your empty mug from your outstretched hand. “I’ll take care of these if you want to get the sleeping bags ready.”

“Sure.” 

The first few times you had slept out beneath the stars, you were adamant about having your sleeping bag a reasonable distance away from Vash’s. ‘Personal space,’ you insisted, even as he joked that you’d be too wooed by his natural charms if you slept any closer. But over time you just couldn’t help yourself. Getting to know Vash, to really know him, seemed to go hand in hand with your own sleeping bag drifting ever so slightly closer and closer to his with each passing night. Now you barely even blinked as you rolled the two of them out, side by side.

With a belly full of warm food and the promise of a cozy place to sleep ahead, the exhaustion seemed to wash over you in a sudden, leaden wave. You barely had the energy to kick your shoes off, shuffling yourself awkwardly into the bag until it was pulled nearly up to your chin. When Vash turned back around from putting your mugs away he barked out a short, surprised laugh.

“Comfy in there?”

You nodded, biting back a yawn as your eyelids fluttered. You watched through bleary lashes as Vash put the cap over the top of the pocket bonfire, snuffing the flame with a soft hiss and plunging his silhouette into moonlight. You could catch the vague shimmer off of his glasses lenses, the glint on the pauldron of his prosthetic arm, and the barest hint of a soft smile by the light of the five moons.

“I’ll finish cleaning up, why don’t you get some sleep?”

You nodded again, humming softly as you let your eyes slip fully shut and melted into the darkness behind your eyelids. “Mhm… Thank you, Vash.”

You swore that as the comfortable fuzz of sleep crept further into the edges of your mind, you felt a warm, metallic hand pat you gently atop your head.

And then, blackness.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You normally slept incredibly well with Vash by your side, safe in the knowledge that whatever may happen, he’d be there to protect you.

Which is why it came as a bit of a shock to you when you jerked suddenly awake, the fog of some already-fading nightmare seeping away from your consciousness. Even as you struggled to recall it the details continued to slip away, flashes of smoke and gunmetal and blond hair streaked with clumped, drying blood all that remained on the peripheries of your subconscious. It left you as most nightmares do, feeling hollow and distinctly paranoid.

The chill in the air certainly didn’t help either. Even within the plush confines of your sleeping bag you could feel the cold cutting through, leaving your entire body tense and shivery, muscles aching. You certainly wouldn’t be getting back to sleep any time soon.

But just as you saw fit to roll over and curse your bad luck, you noticed Vash. He was sat upright, leaning back on the heels of his palms, sleeping bag pooled around his waist as he tipped his head up towards the night sky. His face was lit in profile by cool, white moonlight, and without his familiar tinted lenses on you could see the reflection of a thousand little stars in his aqua-colored eyes. A look of incredible serenity was upon his face. You almost hated to disturb it.

But at some point he must have felt your eyes trained upon him, because he turned his attention to you, and that distant, moony gaze seemed to focus into something soft and concerned.

“What are you still doing up?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” You sat up and immediately regretted it, the frosty wind cutting straight through your thin, linen shirt. “Aren’t we getting up early tomorrow to beat the heat?”

“Yeah… Guess I just couldn’t sleep, is all.”

“Me neither.”

You fell silent again, following Vash’s gaze as it trailed back up towards the marbled sky. Shivering, you tucked your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them as your eyes flit back and forth across those tiny, oh so distant specks of light. It was hard to even imagine that each one was just like one of your two suns, even harder to imagine that somewhere out there is where humans originally came from. Was Earth somewhere in this milky spiral of stars? Could you find it, one day, if you really looked hard enough? Or was it already too far gone, too distant or dim or lost to the hubris of the people who came long before you? You supposed you’d never really know for sure.

“Do you know any constellations?”

You startled a bit when Vash broke the silence, and just barely in the moonlight you could see him put up his hands as a sort of ‘Sorry!’ gesture. He’d had time to adjust to the dark, so maybe he could see you better than you could see him. 

“Not really.” You replied. “I know what some of them are called but I could never figure out how you were supposed to find them.”

“Want me to show you? It’s really not that hard, if you know what to look for.”

You nodded, scooting your sleeping bag as close to Vash as you could get. He wrapped his right arm around you and rested his chin on your shoulder, reaching up towards the sky with his prosthetic. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him, thrumming like an old yet sturdy machine. He outstretched a single finger, a thin glow of blue-green energy pulsing beneath the metal as he pointed.

“See that bright one, right there?” His voice was barely above a murmur, hesitant to break the silence of the vast desert. “Follow my arm, it’s gonna be just at the tip of my finger.”

“I…Think so? Is it just to the left of that kinda red one?”

“There you go! That’s the main point of Luridae, the Scorpion. It’s supposed to be the tip of the tail. If you draw a line to the one right below it, then the one below that, you follow the trail and make like, an upside-down hook shape. Seven stars.”

“But how is that supposed to be a scorpion?”

“You’ve gotta use your imagination!” He laughed at your furrowed brow, moving his hand a bit further to the right and up. “If you can find Luridae you can find Sula, the Spear. That’s an easy one, it’s those five stars in a straight line, see? It points right towards the tail.”

You squinted, trying your best to follow Vash’s instructions. Sure enough, just up and to the right of that bright star was a line of five, neat in a row like someone had sketched them up there.

“I see it! It’s right there, right?” You brought your arm up right next to Vash’s, sides of your arms touching all the way up to your palms as you traced the line in the sky with your fingertip. Even the metal of his prosthetic was unnaturally warm, just enough to be comfortable, like it was still holding its heat from the evening sun.

“Yeah, you got it!” His cheek was nearly pressed to yours, and you could feel him smile at your success. The excitement was infectious, leaving you feeling floaty and light despite your exhaustion. “Wanna try a few more?”

“Sure! What about up here?” You tipped your head all the way back, staring straight up into the night sky, only to wince at the sharp twang of pain you felt in the back of your neck. “Ow.”

“You okay?” Vash’s face filled your vision, expression soft with concern. You just shrugged, rolling your shoulder and pressing your fingertips into the tense muscle.

“I’m fine, just tweaked my neck a little. The cold just makes all my muscles kind of achey." 

Vash's hand rested on the side of your arm, almost hot to the touch against your chilled skin. How could he possibly run so warm? You wanted to melt into nothing more than a little ball curled up in the palm of his hand, dozing in the pleasant warmth it provided. Meanwhile his eyebrows had flown up his forehead, blinking incredulously at you.

"You're freezing! Why didn't you say anything?" 

"I dunno! I didn't wanna bother you? Besides, I didn't notice until I woke up, anyway!"

He frowned at you, unconsciously jutting out his lower lip in an adorable pout that made your heart stammer in your chest. He made a lot of faces like this, smug little smiles after a trick shot or delighted beaming grins over dinner, even those soft, bittersweet little expressions he'd shoot your way when he thought you weren't looking; faces that made you want to just throw caution to the wind and lean in and kiss him until you both ran hot and breathless.

But you couldn't. Vash liked to joke about how fearless you were, unafraid of tailing after the Humanoid Typhoon through each town and city he blew through, but you weren't that brave. Not enough to risk the possible rejection of the person you cherished most in the world, even if he was under the impression he was doing it for your benefit. No, you were nowhere near that brave. Not yet.

"Maybe you'll just have to share with me then, if you want to keep warm!~"

"Can I?"

You both stiffened, neither of you expecting your response to actually come out of your mouth. Vash was clearly trying to tease you, you could see that now by the wide eyes and startled red fluster on his cheeks, but you'd been so deep in your own thoughts you hadn't even registered it properly until the words were already out of your mouth. You clammed up quickly, the back of your neck feeling hot and prickly as you cupped your hands over it and turned jerkily away from him.

"Ah! Sorry, I didn't- I wasn't really thinking I was just- You know I should have known you were just joking, so… so let's just go back to sleep. Sorry. This is weird… sorry."

You'd definitely said sorry way too many times. And he'd definitely noticed. But maybe he'd actually cut you some slack for once and not point out how effectively you'd just humiliated yourself in front of him. Or maybe you could just roll yourself up in your sleeping bag like a pill bug and in the morning you'd forget this entire exchange even happened.

"...Do you really want to?" He mumbled, warm fingertips resting on your upper arm again and sending a shiver down the length of your spine. He didn't pull away even when you flinched at the contact, voice staying hesitant, small, almost like he was trying to soothe a skittish animal. "I don't want you to freeze or anything. I really don't mind."

"It's not weird?" You'd almost mustered up the courage to ask 'I didn't make things weird?' but you chickened out at the last moment catching a glimpse of Vash's soft expression when peering at him from the corner of your eye.

"No, it's totally fine! I run kind of hot anyway. I can be your heated blanket." Seating himself all the way upright, Vash opened his arms to you, and it took everything you had not to dive into them the second the gesture was offered. 

Trying not to look as eager as you were, you slipped carefully out of your own sleeping bag, shuddering as you were buffeted by the evening air. It was a bit of an awkward clamber, one you tried desperately not to think too hard about as you burrowed your way in right next to Vash. He was a big guy, and the sleeping bag was barely big enough for him to begin with, so once you got yourself situated you found that you were basically snug up against him from your ankles all the way up to your neck. And oh, was it everything you'd imagined to be and more. You were curled up into his right side; he'd tucked you up in such a way that your head was resting right on his shoulder with his arm slung around you, keeping you close. The thin fabric of your pajamas did nothing to quell the heat that rolled off of Vash's body and seeped into your own. It was a familiar, achingly safe kind of warmth, like falling asleep in an afternoon sunbeam coming through the window and landing across a soft mattress. It felt right. It felt like home.

"Comfy?" His voice was so soft a murmur you could barely make it out, and you nodded for fear of any words being let out giving away your true feelings on the situation. How were you ever supposed to sleep on your own again, knowing that this bliss was just within arms reach? "That's good. Hey, try looking up now?"

You blinked up at the night sky, an endless expanse of stars and moons stretched over your heads. His free arm rose again, fingertip tracing an abstract, polygonal form against the starry backdrop.

"Rivus Minor, the Little River. You can follow it across the sky, just like this. Follow my hand, okay?"

"Yeah." You whispered, for you didn't think you had the strength nor the courage to speak any louder. You'd follow his hand as it traced the stars. You'd follow him to the driest, most desperate towns, the true wastelands. You'd follow him through hell and back out again, to the most barren edges of No Man's Land and back, a thousand times over. Even if he tried to leave you behind, for your protection he'd say, for your safety, you wouldn't be able to help but follow. You'd follow him through blood and gun-smoke and tears and keep following beyond. As long as Vash was there, you couldn't help but be there too.

"Okay. I'll follow you."

[romanoffsbish]

I Almost Do

Florence Pugh x Fem!Reader

…and Broken Promises

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

I bet, this time of night you're still up. I bet, you're tired from a long hard week. I bet, you're sittin' in your chair by the window looking out at the city, and I bet, sometimes you wonder 'bout me.

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

Florence had just returned to her hotel after another successful week of shooting in Prague. There were mints laid out on her pillows, and a few complimentary pieces of hotel swag on the bed but she only swept it all onto the floor. Her body collapsed into the soft mattress, and she curled in on herself while staring at her phone.

The notification-less phone, one that used to ding all day long until she had to put it on do not disturb was now drier than ever before.

Tears soak the white sheets beneath her as she once again mourns the greatest loss of her life. Mistakes she herself made led her to moments like these where she was left without the warmth of the only person she'd called home.

———

———

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

I bet, you think I either moved on or hate you. 'Cause each time you reach out there's no reply. I bet it never ever occurred to you that I can't say "Hello" to you, and risk another goodbye.

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

"Please, Y/N, once you get this message call me back, I-I'm desperate.," Florence chewed on her lower lip as she left yet another voicemail. A heavy sigh left her lips as she pondered over the fact that you'd yet to block her, a tiny part of her believed there was a chance to fix this.

With a cigarette between her lips she felt the stress of this predicament melt away, you'd always pleaded with her to quit, and for the longest time she had. Funny, you made her a better person, and yet she wasn't ever enough. If it wasn't the smoking, it was her long hours, if it wasn't the hours it was her partying with friends, and she's sure the list goes on. Deep down she knew your feelings were valid, but she was too angry to rationalize them as such.

How following her dreams, and becoming an overnight sensation led her to losing you was beyond her. Five years of bliss down the drain as soon as she shot to stardom, the same one you encouraged and supported her to chase. Now though, without you it's just an empty accomplishment; if you'd only answer the damn phone you'd know she wants you more, she'd give up the stardom if it meant you were back in her life, and more over in her arms.

As she stomps on the cigarette and makes her way through the bustling streets of New York she prays to stumble upon you. Hope in her ever beating heart that you'll be at the cat cafe, or at the park you two used to frolic through. When she stumbles throughout Central Park though, to go cup in hand, her shoulders fall.

Where you are is a mystery to her ever since you turned your location off. Her heart aches with the prospect of you finding a new love, something fresh, and that will allow someone else to fill the hole in your heart she once did. It's infuriating the more she thinks about it, how you could consider such a thing when she is still so heartbroken over your absence.

Day in, and day out her heart continues to beat for you, even when you continue to give her nothing to show for the dangerous hope that she's desperately clinging to; she misses you.

Unbeknownst to the starlet, you miss her too.

However, after the last blow out you know that the distance is all that's keeping your heart from total ruin. Another movie that would "raise her star power" came around, and she refused to turn it down, even with your threats to leave. She walked right out the door, so you helped her by pushing her out of your life.

That day broke you in ways you'd never imagined possible, at least not coming from her, because she’d always promised to cherish your heart, and yet there she stood, breaking it into tiny pieces without even a glance back.

Florence never really was much for the bigger picture, she was always for what she could see right now, and so these opportunities knocking at her door were ones she couldn't fathom turning down in the thrill of the moment.

So as you sit here with your phone to your ear, cycling through this months set of voicemails you let the tears fall. A once blooming love is showcased in the memories on your phone that you can’t bare to delete, and her heartbroken voice flows through your ears and strikes at your fragile heart:

“Y/N, my darling girl, what happened? How did this break so tragically? I miss you so….”

“Y/N/N, this is getting ridiculous, talk to me!”

“Hey baby, I saw a cat while filming today, we shared lunch on the lot and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was uncanny, but the little feline had your eyes… I miss those eyes.”

“I love you, and I will never stop. I’m not giving up on you, even if you’ve done so with me. We’re soulmates Y/N/N, I’ll wait forever.”

You wipe away another set of tears, your heart aching for the love of your life’s affections, but you remain steadfast in your decision here, you cannot contact her. Because you’re absolutely certain that if you were to let her back in, she’d only ever break your heart further.

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

I just wanna tell you it takes everything in me, not to call you. And I wish I could run to you, and I hope you know that every time I don't I almost do.

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

Florence continued to sulk as she traipsed around the city of New York, your once shared villa up the road now sits barren as you'd vacated it to go live god knows where, with whom she doesn't know either. Echos of your shared laughter hits her as she passes on by, her heart aches, and her knees nearly give out.

Especially when she realizes the sound wasn't imaginary, not at all, because just across the street you're sat with your phone to your ear. You're alone, which Florence internally beams about, but you're also in a melancholy state. Tears streaming down your cheeks lead her to wonder why you were laughing, then it dawns on her when a reminiscent glint shines in your eyes that you're watching super old videos.

"Y/N?," she calls out hesitantly, she honestly didn't want to break the moment, it'd been half a year since she'd last been this close to you, and when you jump to your feet, looking to her like a deer caught in the headlights she knew she should've been closer before speaking.

"For fucks sake.," she groans, taking off in a sprint as you'd just done seconds prior, you were never going to make any of this easy for her, of course not, it was as if you two were in your very own, incredibly frustrating rom-com.

"Y/N, please! We need to talk!," her plea seems to only make your legs move faster as you descend into the underground subway tunnel, the blonde groans at your decision, but she's far too stubborn to relent so she follows.

By the time she passes by the influx of people she's hobbling over the MetroPay machines to get to you faster, whatever fine comes her way would be affordable anyways, so like any main character would she breaks the laws for love.

Then in true antagonist fashion you evade her by mere seconds, the subway door slamming right in her face, she tries to pry them open, but when a security officer pulls her back she knows she failed her objective of getting you.

The both of your teary eyes meet though, she can see the fear that keeps you from her, it has your heart on lockdown, and she wants nothing more than to pull you close and quell the fears. To tell you that she's sorry, and she's ready to fix her mistakes, even if she's still a bit lost herself on what exactly she did to break this.

Then she see how your eyes fall to the ground suddenly as your hand grazes over your throat, a panicked fist hits the glass and she follows your gaze to find your locket was on the dirty cement. She drift's back up to see you running through the car's in desperation as the train had left the station, and she swiftly holds the jewelry up and sends you an apologetic smile.

You still had it, the heart necklace she got you for your first anniversary with the photo of you two on your first date together. It was a shot of you with a script in hand, in a silly get up to emulate that of the leading male love interest. Helping her run lines for a last minute audition even when you'd originally planned to take her to dinner. It's in this moment, when Flo's tear hits the millimeter long photo that it clicks.

Never once did your support for her waver, it was her lack of reciprocity that brought this relationship to ruin. Every new film came with expectations far too demanding for your heart to bare. Relationships were about give and take, but now she knows she'd stopped giving to you, and the realization is truly debilitating.

Six months of your silence and all it took was the memory of your start to give her clarity.

She collapsed to her knees, uncaring of the filth of the ground or the flashes and whispers that came with her very public breakdown. With the shakiest of hands she pulled her phone from her pocket, sending you a hopeful text, and all she could do now was pray for a miracle.

*6pm, Joes Pizza, I’ll be there—I hope you will show up. Y/N, my sweetest love, I’m so sorry.*

——

1,702 Words

Final Taylor fic

❤️ Kaitlyn 🤭

[iboatedhere]

Hi Rae! Here to throw the pebble (rock sounded way to harsh) of a prompt at your window. Prompt from the Summer vibe list- "music festivals with local bands" for FirstPrince. Either an au or canon verse, whatever you fancy at the moment. We'll read and enjoy whatever you come up with.

Happy writing! ❤️

Inspired by Taylor and Travis at Coachella.

--

Alex wakes with his face smashed into the mattress while the over-starched hotel room sheets press lines into his face. 

He blinks against the light slipping in from beneath the drawn curtains. His mouth feels like cotton, and his eyes feel dry and sandy, but he knows this hangover isn’t nearly as bad as it could’ve been, that maybe the Aspirin and Gatorade he chugged before he fell asleep did its job. 

He rolls over and finds Henry sitting up against the headboard, phone in hand and an unreadable expression on his face.

“Good or bad?” Alex mumbles, winding his hands through the tangled sheets between them to lay a hand on Henry’s thigh. 

Henry hums. “Apparently, we broke the internet.”

“Again?” Alex asks, lifting his head off the pillow. “What is that—the sixth time?”

“I haven’t been keeping track,” Henry tells him, “but I’ll take your word for it.”

“What the fuck did we do?” Alex asks as he tries to piece together the events of last night through the haze of overpriced liquor and second-hand smoke.

(The election might be over, but he knows better than to be caught smoking anything in public.) 

He knows they got to the festival grounds early because that’s what you do. He knows Pez got his photo taken about a million times with adoring fans, and they all teased Henry about being romantically linked to Dua Lipa a million years ago. 

He knows they hopped from stage to stage, leaving once the crowds around them became too much to handle, that he ate a terrible burrito bowl and a delicious samosa before washing it down with an iced coffee (that was more ice than coffee) and strawberry kiwi smoothie he split with Bea. 

He remembers joking about setting up a tent for the night instead of going back to the five-star hotel, just to see the horrified look on Amy, Cash, and Henry’s faces and the group splintering off to different stages as the day turned to night. 

Then he remembers riding back to the hotel, alone in the backseat of the van, Henry in his lap as he bit at his bottom lip. They made it up to their room in a blur of wandering hands and well-placed kisses before washing the dust off their bodies together and falling into bed. 

He remembers that part vividly, but nothing else really sticks out. Nothing that would cause chaos online. 

“Sweetheart,” Alex prompts, and Henry tilts the phone screen in his direction. 

“We simply existed,” Henry tells him, and Alex squints at the screen before giving up and rolling over, reaching out to find his glasses. 

He slides them onto his face and accepts the kiss Henry places on his temple before taking another look. 

Henry has searched Glastonbury on Twitter, and when Alex scrolls, all he sees are photos of him and Henry in one of the side tents. Henry’s arms are wrapped around him from behind, kissing the side of his neck and the top of his shoulder, always holding him close, always touching. There are gifs of Alex turning his hat around so he can lean up and mouth at the hinge of Henry’s jaw and videos of Henry’s full-bodied laughter. 

They look so happy and so in love, and the world is eating it up. 

“Well,” Alex says as he saves the clearer photos to Henry’s camera roll. “At least we look good.”

“Agreed,” Henry says as he settles back down into bed so he and Alex are eye to eye. “Would be lovely to be able to enjoy a concert without being photographed hundreds of times.”

Alex takes his glasses off and sets them back on the nightstand before turning back to Henry.

“I think we’ll get there someday,” he says. “Maybe. Possibly. I don't know.  We’re always going to be hot, so people are always going to look.”

“Even as we get old and gray?”

“Fuck, are you kidding? Especially then, sweetheart. And let’s not forget your dad—.”

“That’s quite enough,” Henry interrupts, pushing himself up and over Alex, silencing him with a kiss. “How many times must I beg you not to bring up my father while we’re in bed?”

“At least once more,” Alex says, and Henry smiles and lets himself be pulled down for another kiss.