#This is shit they WARN you about right out of the gate when you approach the general vicinity of the topic of battered women

[bonebabbles]

Scenes like this keep cropping up and I cannot help but roll my eyes all the way back into my skull

Don't worry guys, having NEW children fixed him. This famously teaches a violent man to stop hitting kids and makes him no longer feel the need to construct nightmarish scenarios so he can humiliate and embarrass those he has power over. Men whose wives produce lots of babies for them are Very fulfilled and Understand how strong bonds are supposed to be

"Instead of advising him he'd been defensive" is a REALLY INTERESTING way to phrase "got so offended at the suggestion to stop murdering women for their land that he shoved his son's face in a festering wound and told him to leave him to get eaten by maggots."

I wonder how they'd spell something like, "walked through a patch of thorns so that his son would be in physical pain and then belittled him for finding an alternate route because he wanted him to suffer" and "lied directly to his face about why he abandoned him when he realized the child could be useful"

[egcdeath]

off the beaten path

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

summary: what could go wrong with a non-refundable honeymoon and a broken engagement?

warnings: MATURE (mentions of sex but no sex scenes), exes to lovers, idiots to lovers angst, fluff, there was only one bed MULTIPLE times, jealousy!! (like a lot), slow burn, no use of y/n, so much use of the word fuck, a little toxicity, some facts about landmarks are inaccurate for the plot, lots of arguing and making up, miscommunication, seasickness, patrick & reader kinda have no social awareness, a lot of hotels and buses, alcohol, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

word count: 18.4k

author’s note: this was so much longer than i expected it to be, but i loved writing it so so much and i'm gonna be sad to see this pairing go! also, a special thank you to the tour website whose itinerary i used for their trip. i hope you enjoy!

JFK AIRPORT

You scrolled endlessly on your phone as you sat at your gate, trying your hardest to fight off the combination of sleepiness and anxiety that had been slowly creeping up on you for the past hour.  

You should be happy—excited to spend the next month of your life traveling throughout Europe on the trip that you had dreamt about since you were a child. Instead, you were filled with dread at the prospect of your quickly approaching trip, leaving your leg bouncing and your eyes flitting between the device in your hands and the entrance of the gate, anxiously anticipating the arrival of a man that you really really did not want to see. 

Once it was announced that first class was boarding, you quickly hopped out of your uncomfortable seat, hoping that if you boarded quick enough, you might be able to miss your unwanted companion. As you stood in line, you tried your best to be casual about your endlessly swiveling head and wondered if it was too late to simply call the whole thing off. 

Boarding had gone smoothly enough, and as you settled into your seat, you still hadn’t seen any sign of your former fiancé. For a second, a spark of hope lit up in you. Maybe you’d get to experience Europe without that pest in your ear after all. Maybe you could even arrange a friend to come fly out and be with you for a few days, or find someone to have a romantic summer fling with. 

But just as soon as your hope arrived, it departed with the sound of a familiar voice walking down the aisle and directly towards you.

“They wouldn’t let me switch my seat.”

You couldn’t believe that those were the choice of words the man you’d intended to spend the rest of your life with had decided to start with. After months of radio silence. No apologies, no awkward small talk, no sugar-coated words about your situation, just a complaint about the conditions the two of you would be in for the next eight hours. Classic Patrick. 

“That’s too bad,” you replied, already annoyed by his presence. You had underestimated how much of a challenge this trip was going to be, solely based on the speed at which your negative feelings had come to the surface. 

“Yeah, no shit,” he muttered under his own breath, putting some luggage into the overhead bin above your seats. 

“You’re the one who insisted we still go,” you argued, not wanting him to get the last word—even if his last words were meant to be a snarky comment to himself more than anything else. 

“The hotels, tours, and all the other tickets were non-refundable!” he argued right back to you. 

“So?” you shot back like a petulant child. 

“So I didn’t want to waste your money.”

“Oh, how considerate,” you scoffed sarcastically before beginning once more. “You’re rich! You don’t even have to be here!” 

“Just because my family is comfortable doesn’t mean I want to waste my money.”

You openly rolled your eyes at his words. Comfortable was the understatement of the century. “So you didn’t actually want to waste my money. You didn’t want to waste your own.”

“Why can’t it be both?” he asked, sounding exasperated by your line of thinking. You hated when he did that. You kind of hated most things he did now. Maybe you just hated him. 

“I never said it can’t be both, I just think you should stop trying to act like you’re so charitable for doing me a favor. As if our relationship wasn’t filled with me doing you favors.”

“Do you really want to be having this conversation right now?” he asked. 

“Sorry, you’re right. We have the next thirty-five days to talk about it.”

The two of you sighed in a synchronized breath at the mention of the amount of time you had to spend together. You hated that the two of you were still in rhythm after everything you’d been through. Or maybe you just hated Patrick. 

“Who plans a thirty-five day honeymoon anyway?” he huffed. 

“Us, apparently. I mean, you were all for it, what? A few months ago?”

“Only because you wanted it.

“Oh, how could I forget. The ever-charitable Patrick Zweig. Taking a month-long break from hitting balls to be with me. I’m forever in your debt,” you mocked with a dramatic hand to your forehead. “At this rate, you’re gonna send me a list of all of the nice things you’ve ever done for me. What do you want me to say? Thank you for doing the bare minimum as a boyfriend?”

“Fiancé,” he corrected you, earning a very nasty side eye from you in the process of doing so. 

You were beginning to get dirty looks from your fellow first class passengers, which temporarily shut the both of you up. It was never a good idea to piss off people on a plane. You didn’t want to end up on the no-fly list just because you couldn’t bite your tongue around your ex. 

“Remember when you said we could still be friends after this?” Patrick spoke once more after your moment of silence. 

“Of course I remember, but you stopped that from happening when you…” your voice trailed off as you made eye contact with a very displeased looking middle aged woman “Whatever. Let’s just… try to get through this flight. And try not to make any more of a scene.”

“Fine,” he replied, shrugging in your peripheral vision. 

“Fine,” you said back, not wanting him to have the last word.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That thing where you think you win every argument just because you said the last thing.”

“I’m not doing that,” you lied. “You think you know me so well.”

A familiar agitated smile broke out on his face, something that you unfortunately missed seeing. “I do know you well, though. I see right through you.”

“You actually don’t, though.”

“I do,” he insisted, the smirk creeping onto his face telling you that he knew you were actively proving his point. 

“Not really,” you dismissed and attempted to casually pull the headphones that were currently sitting on your neck up to cover your ears. You were always grateful to have noise-canceling headphones when you were traveling, but they were coming particularly in handy for you to win this argument. You tried to hide your self-satisfied smirk as you pressed play on your phone, but you could instantly tell that you were failing. 

When you looked back up, Patrick was clearly saying words to you that you weren’t able to hear. Knowing him, he was probably saying something along the lines of, “Real mature.” 

The truth was that he wanted the last word more than you did–which made it particularly rewarding when you gestured to your headphones before throwing your hands out in a shrug to indicate to him that you couldn’t hear him.

Your vacation was already off to a chaotic start. You couldn’t help but fear what the next thirty-five days would be like. 

BARCELONA, SPAIN

Despite the flight only being eight hours long, you were absolutely exhausted by the time that you checked into your hotel room. So exhausted that you failed to remember to request to switch rooms to one with two beds rather than one.

This predicament only came to the forefront of your mind once you and Patrick had already swiped into the room, suitcases lying on the floor and one king-sized mattress presented in front of you. 

“Should I go back down to the front desk?” he asked as he looked from you to the bed. 

“I’m too tired to get a new room,” you replied. You could handle one night next to your ex. You’d slept in a bed together for years. Granted, during those years you were also sleeping together, but this wasn’t all that different. 

“Fine. Don’t complain if I hog blankets, then.”

“Fine,” you replied. “Just stay on your side of the bed.”

You shucked your backpack from your shoulders and walked over to what was typically the side of the bed where you slept when the two of you had been a couple. Not wasting any time to get ready for bed, you began to take off your clothes and search for your pajamas. Once you glanced over your shoulder, you were quite displeased to find Patrick rather openly ogling at you. 

“Stop looking at me,” you demanded.

“What? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” He said with a smirk. 

“You’re such a creep,” you muttered, throwing on an old shirt and crawling into bed. 

As you laid in bed and texted your friends and family that you’d arrived at your hotel safely, you took a peek of your own at your former partner as he got ready for bed. He seemed to be going with his classic bedtime attire of just boxers. Bold move. 

Your eyes were momentarily stuck on his abs and enticing happy trail. You’d planned your trip during Patrick’s off season while he was training for his upcoming season, so you were pleasantly unsurprised that he was in such good shape. Your breath caught for a second as you thought about the rest of him, and you desperately tried to repress the low, fiery feeling rising in your stomach. 

“And I’m the creep?” he asked with a laugh, pulling you away from your objectification as he got into bed next to you. 

“Yeah,” you replied, as if you hadn’t just given him the same treatment he’d given you. 

“Well… like what you see?”

You scoffed at his audacity, though you did like what you saw. “I’m not fucking you. Goodnight.”

You hit the light on your nightstand and you swore you heard a quiet sound of disappointment come from Patrick. Bastard.

You turned your back to him and closed your eyes, finding that sleep took you under surprisingly easily.

When you woke up in the morning, you were greeted by a far too familiar feeling. Despite your request for Patrick to stay on his side of the bed, the slow, steady breaths being breathed into your ear and the solid wall of body behind you indicated that he had not only traveled into your space over the course of the night, but was actively spooning you. 

You were shocked to find that you didn’t necessarily mind it. Yes, you were mad at Patrick for everything that had gone down between you, and because he was such a pain in the ass, but you also hadn’t realized just how much you missed being held. Particularly, how much you missed being held by him. 

The more alert you became, the more you realized that you couldn’t really move. Despite that, you found that you didn’t really want to move. Sure, you were beginning to get uncomfortably hot, and yes, you could feel Patrick’s morning wood pressing against your ass, but none of it was particularly unpleasant. 

Part of you wondered if your trip would go differently than you expected. Regardless of how you acted towards one another, you clearly both missed each other. 

Your shrill phone alarm suddenly went off, startling Patrick awake behind you. 

“Mmm, fuck, sorry,” he sleepily slurred as he rolled away from you. You turned over to look at his tired face, eyes still lidded and speckled face looking far softer than you remembered. 

Out of the blue, he opened his eyes, catching you in the act of looking at him with barely-concealed affection. Before he could make some sort of snarky comment, he shot out of bed, adjusted his boxers, and made an urgent beeline towards the bathroom. All of which would’ve been far funnier if his actions hadn’t been disrupted by the loud message ping of his cellphone. 

You weighed out your options. You were curious about what was waiting for him on his phone, but you weren’t sure that you’d have time to properly snoop. As if the universe was listening to your thoughts, the sound of the shower began, telling you that you had all the time that you needed to do some adequate investigation. 

You wondered who was texting Patrick so early in the morning. Knowing him, it was probably his mother, checking in to make sure he made it to his destination safely. You were sure that whatever message she left would also be inquiring about you. She’d always had a bit of a soft spot for you, especially compared to some of the other people that Patrick had brought home. That, of course, was an observation shared to you from Patrick, so you couldn’t be sure how much of it was flattery compared to truth. 

Regardless, her fondness for you had carried into the end of your relationship, with her occasionally messaging or calling you to make sure that you were still doing well, and more importantly, to check in on the status of your relationship. 

Much like you and your friends, she’d been holding out hope that your relationship may repair itself. With you and Patrick being as passionate as the two of you were, you were no strangers to seemingly serious arguments that resolved themselves in a matter of days. While calling off a wedding was far more drastic than any of your other disputes had been, after being together for years, it was hard to imagine a world where the two of you weren’t a couple. 

But his call never came. You didn’t hear an apology or explanation or even an excuse from Patrick—just a suggestion of when you should pick up the items you’d left at his place.

You hated to admit it, but there was a naïve part of you that was still holding out hope that this trip would be exactly what you needed to reconcile. And maybe that naïeve part of you was less delusional than you might’ve originally thought. Surely cuddling into the morning and Patrick’s poorly hidden morning wood were signs that this vacation was already going in the right direction. Maybe being in such close proximity was exactly the push you needed to get your relationship back on track. 

After a halfhearted internal debate, you grabbed his phone from the night stand on his side of the bed. Attempting the passcode he’d been using while you were together—the digits of your birthday—you were pleased to find that the password hadn’t changed and that you were granted access into his phone. What you weren’t expecting to see was Tinder on the homepage of his cracked device. 

You paused for a moment and attempted to reason with yourself. Your former fiancé probably didn’t even use the app. He’d likely been pressured by his rebound-obsessed friends to download it, and hadn’t even opened the app since setting up his profile. Besides, you didn’t get on his phone to see what new apps he’d downloaded, you were snooping to see what his mom had to say about you. 

When you opened his messages app, your mouth promptly fell open in shock. Patrick had always been loyal to you—at least to your knowledge—while the two of you were together. Seeing him be so openly flirtatious and suggestive with an attractive woman that you hadn’t ever heard of was more than jarring. 

Your stomach churned as you scrolled through the conversation, flirty messages and images from both sides that left little to the imagination disturbing you in a way that you hadn’t ever realized was possible. 

In the midst of your distraught state, you nearly missed the background noise of the shower coming to a halt, informing you that your time snooping had come to an end. 

You set his phone back down where you’d found it and desperately tried to push down the bile in your throat that was tasting more and more like jealousy and anger by the second. 

You knew it was irrational for you to be feeling this way, considering that the two of you had been broken up for a few months. Nothing legally or morally tied the two of you together anymore, but that didn’t make you feel any less unsettled by what you’d just seen. 

It was just that… you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to fully move on from Patrick. He’d been part of your life for so long, and the way things ended had been so abrupt that it almost didn’t feel real. Even if you did move on, it was going to take you more than three months to do so. It wasn’t fair that Patrick’s name seemed to pop up every week in your therapy sessions, while he was sending pictures of himself in gray sweatpants to random hot women. 

You wanted to shrink into the mattress and never come back up. You wanted to yell at Patrick the moment he stepped out of the bathroom. You wanted to turn on your side and wail dramatically, at least until all of your big feelings felt a little smaller. 

But you were in Europe on vacation. You were on vacation, damnit, and you weren’t going to let one mildly disturbing text thread ruin your entire experience. Better yet, if Patrick was already moving on, there was no reason that you shouldn’t do the same.

You told yourself this as you rolled out of bed and dug in your suitcase, pulling out a sundress that had driven Patrick wild in the past. While you may have packed it with less than realistic expectations, your goal was far more grounded now. 

Both of you could play this game. 

You stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed after a shower of your own and instantly registered the almost cartoonish look he was giving you. You guessed that some things never changed, even when the two of you had decided to actively pursue other people. 

“The tour guide said to meet in the lobby soon, so I’m gonna head down,” you explained, not giving him a second look as you began to search for your purse. 

“The tour doesn’t start for another half hour?” he replied, sitting up from where he was laying on the bed. 

“Well I wanna socialize with the people we’re gonna be traveling through Europe with,” you said a little snappily, still a little perturbed about what you’d found on his phone earlier. You conveniently left out the fact that you wanted to scope out any potential summer flings. 

“I’ll come with you,” he insisted.

“You really don’t have to. Remember, this isn’t actually a honeymoon,” you slipped on some comfortable shoes and headed to the door. “I’ll see you around.”

You were probably being far more rude than you really needed to be, but your anger had only intensified as you showered and put on makeup. At this point, you were fully pissed—even if you didn’t have the right to be. 

You made small talk with the people you met in the lobby as they began to filter into the room, and tried your absolute best to dispel the anger that was flowing through your veins. That proved harder than you anticipated, as Patrick was one of the last people to join you all in the lobby, and for the life of you, you couldn’t stop imagining him sitting in your shared hotel room and sexting his mystery girl. 

Luckily, you couldn’t dwell on that ugly thought for too long, as your tour began soon after. Your friendly guide took your group around the city, explaining rather riveting information about the landmarks you visited and the city itself.

After being dismissed for a quick break, you found yourself sitting on a bench and chatting with a man in your group. He wasn’t really your type, but he was extremely conventionally attractive, and from the peripheral glances you caught of Patrick, you could tell that he wasn’t exactly pleased with what was going on.

While making him jealous, or annoyed, or whatever it was that he was feeling, wasn’t your expressed goal, it did feel nice to give him a taste of his own medicine. What felt less nice was glancing over and catching him typing on his phone furiously. You could only imagine whose boobs were on the other end of the line. 

Reacting out of a bit of desperation and frustration, you began to play things up. You leaned over more to show off more cleavage, laughed a little harder at jokes that weren’t all that funny, and set a scandalous hand on his arm. You were determined to have that vacation fling now, and you were going to get it by any means necessary. 

You laid it on thick for the rest of the afternoon, sitting next to him during lunch and flirting casually with him as your group walked through Park Güell. 

You wondered if he noticed you throwing glances in Patrick’s direction after every interaction. You hoped that he didn’t. 

It felt good to be getting even with Patrick—but not as good as you expected it to feel. The realization sunk in as a portion of your group visited a bar that was apparently very popular with the locals. Or at least, that’s what a very handsome man purred into your ear after sitting down next to you at the bar.

You’d been keeping an eye on Patrick as he socialized with a couple that he’d been talking to for the majority of your day, but you almost instantly lost track of him as you became consumed with this handsome stranger. 

Everything happened in a bit of a blur—one moment you’d been nursing a Marianito, and the next you were holding the hand of a man whose name you couldn’t remember as he led you to his apartment. 

By the time you’d left his apartment, you were nothing short of a mess. You were pretty sure that the only way you could’ve been more obvious about what had just happened to you was if you had the words “JUST HAD SEX” written across your forehead—and with the way the people in your hotel elevator were looking at you, you couldn’t be completely sure that those words weren’t on your face. 

You made it back to your room safely, quietly opening the door and doing your best not to make too much noise, since at this hour, Patrick was surely asleep. 

It did feel weird to be going back to his bed less than an hour after you’d been with another man, but you couldn’t necessarily say you felt bad. Patrick had started it, and you simply finished it off. If he didn’t have any issues with seeing other people, there was no reason for you to have an issue with it either. 

Your efforts to be quiet had proved themselves to be for naught, as Patrick was very clearly wide awake, sitting up in bed and already looking at you disapprovingly. 

You weren’t sure what possessed you to speak, rather than ignoring his presence and heading straight to the shower, but your mouth was open before you could stop yourself. 

“Were you just gonna wait here until I got back, like I’m a kid who just snuck out or something?” you asked in disbelief, partially annoyed because of his action, but more ashamed to have been caught in such a state. It couldn’t have been more obvious to Patrick what you’d just done, considering that he’d seen you in a similar state hundreds of times. 

“Baby, we are on a whole different, unfamiliar continent,” his tone was condescending and cold and it made you want to crawl out of your skin. “Why wouldn’t I wait to make sure you got back safely?”

“Don’t call me pet names. And I would’ve been fine. We were just at the bar,” you lied. Going to the apartment of a random man you just met probably wasn’t your brightest idea, but you made it out alive, and that was what mattered. 

“Huh. The bar?” he smirked at you in a way that screamed that he was pissed, without really having to say a word. 

“Yes, I- what does it matter to you anyway?” you hoped that the question would be enough to get you out of the situation. If you were going to argue, you at least wanted to argue after you were showered and in pajamas.

“What does it matter to me if you fucked someone else?” he asked, sounding like he was in complete disbelief. 

“Yeah, Patrick. Why does it matter if I fucked someone else? We’re not together anymore. Did you forget? I mean, it seemed pretty obvious to you when you stopped speaking to me completely a few months ago.”

“Please, enlighten me. What did I have to speak to you about?” 

“I don’t know! Maybe an ‘are you okay?’ would’ve been nice. Or something. Anything, really. We were together for six fucking years and you just dropped me like I was dirt!”

“I…” he trailed off, catching you by surprise. He almost always had a quick clever response that managed to piss you off in a way no one else ever could, so seeing him not knowing what to say next caught you off guard. “If our relationship meant that much to you, why were you all over that guy? I mean, seriously. I’ve never seen anything so desperate. You were practically rubbing yourself on him in the park like a bitch in heat.”

Contempt dripped from his words. You had never been so enraged.

“Are you joking?” you laughed out of sheer anger. “Patrick, you started it! How many Tinder girls have you seen since we broke up? And don’t you dare fucking lie to me. I saw everything you’ve been sending to Amelia. Amelia, I’m so lonely. Amelia, I’m so horny. Amelia, I love you so much,” you mocked.

“You went through my phone?” he asked in disbelief, not even bothering to address the rest of your statement. “Fuck. You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m unbelievable? How long did it even take you before we split for you to start seeing other people? I mean, knowing you, you were probably just waiting for the day we broke up to go get your dick wet.”

“That’s not true, and you know it,” for a second, he looked genuinely wounded—something you were only able to recognize after years of being in a relationship with the man. You didn’t like that you were actively hurting him, but he’d been inflicting pain on you from the moment you broke up.

“Fine,” you conceded on that front, knowing that he was right. It wasn’t completely true. If you hadn’t gone through his phone, you never would’ve guessed that he had already moved on. “But you’ve still been seeing other people.”

“We’ve been broken up for months now,” he replied, as if that was supposed to make things any better or more reasonable. 

“Then why do you care so much about me having sex with someone else? It’s fine when you do it, but suddenly it’s an issue for me?” 

Patrick’s face immediately paled. “You really fucked him?”

“Well, yeah,” you paused. “Well, not who you’re thinking of.”

“You fucked someone else?!” The hurt and disbelief buried under his words made your stomach churn. “You were flirting with that other douchebag all day, I don’t-“

“You’re acting like I’m some whore for reacting to something that you did first!” you cut him off. 

“And you’re acting like I wanted to get rid of you this whole time!” he shot back out at you. 

“Clearly you fucking did,” you hissed. 

“Fuck you,” he huffed. 

“Fuck you,” you shot right back. “I’m leaving.”

“Good,” Patrick replied with a shrug as if he didn’t care, although you were very sure that he cared. “Go run back to your little fuck buddy.”

“Yeah, maybe I will,” you replied as you gathered your items back into your suitcase. “He was better than you, by the way.”

“Yeah, I bet,” he said snarkily as he watched you pack up your items. Luckily, you didn’t have much to pack up and were already heading towards the door. 

“He had a bigger dick, too,” you said as you swung open the hotel room door, fully satisfied with a lie that you knew would bother Patrick. 

While leaving your hotel room seemed like a wonderful idea in the moment, as you went down the elevator, you started to realize that you really did not have many options for where you’d sleep that night. 

You figured your best bet was the hotel lobby. Maybe you could pretend to be someone who’d drank too much and passed out on the first floor before you made it up to your room. You sat down in a comfortable looking chair and grabbed your keycard—in case anyone asked you to verify who you were—then set a floppy hat on your head to cover your face from the bright hotel lobby lights while you attempted to sleep. 

Sleep was already going to be difficult to accomplish, thanks to the argument that you were certainly going to be ruminating on for days to come. That was only made more difficult by the uncomfortable seating and position you’d found yourself in. Somehow, you managed to fall asleep, being woken up by a hotel employee and a friend you’d made from your tour group.

“Long night, huh?” she asked you with a playful smirk. 

“Mm, something like that,” you mumbled sleepily. 

“Well, you can sleep on the coach. It just got here, so we’ll have the best pick of seats. C’mon,” she extended her hand out to you and you gladly took it, in desperate need of something grounding. 

You dozed off on the coach once you’d gotten settled, headphones securely on your ears and sunglasses covering your closed eyes. You were vaguely aware of people boarding the vehicle around you, but didn’t pay much mind to anything. Eventually, you heard the faint sound of someone taking attendance of the people on the bus, followed by the commotion of someone getting on the bus late. 

Something compelled you to open up your eyes, and when you did, you were displeased to find that Patrick was the source of all of the drama. Likely thing for him to be. He scrambled down the aisle, looking desperately for empty seats. To your own horror, you realized that the seat next to you was vacant, and perhaps the only vacant seat on the entire coach. 

As if your minds were connected, you watched Patrick face that very same dilemma as he eventually decided to sit down in the only empty seat, right next to you. 

Neither of you said anything at first, not addressing your blowout argument the previous night, or your awkward current situation. 

“You look like shit,” Patrick finally said as the bus took off. 

“Thanks,” you replied, mentally preparing yourself for a continuation of the argument you’d had just a few hours ago. It was only a matter of time before he brought up your promiscuity or started blatantly texting his Tinderella. 

But none of that ever came. In fact, he just looked a little sad. It was weird to see Patrick so openly defeated. He was always one to put on a smirk or a challenging smile when you argued, letting the façade fall once he was alone, or once the two of you finally discussed what the issue was like adults.

You weren’t sure that you liked it. You preferred annoying asshole Patrick to sad, moping Patrick. 

“You look like shit, too,” you added. “Which is crazy, since you had access to a shower and I didn’t.”

“And whose fault is that?” he asked, looking at you with the slightest hint of that devious smile. You had to fight the slightest inkling of a smile on your own face. 

You felt ridiculous knowing that your mood was still being influenced by your former partner. Even when he was insulting you. Even after he’d spent the night arguing with you. Even after you’d slept with someone else. Even after the two of you had a messy split. 

You still loved him. 

“Yours, mostly,” you shrugged and put your headphones back on. 

PARIS, FRANCE

Despite your brief conversation on the bus, you and Patrick didn’t speak to each other for the entirety of your commute. Although you clearly cared about him, it didn’t change the fact that he had upset and hurt you deeply. And even as upset as you were, you knew that you’d hurt him just as badly. 

You had a particular dread for what awaited you in France, knowing that this part of the tour was very couples-activity heavy. When you’d scheduled your trip, this aspect of the tour felt like a major selling point. The two of you always seemed to be falling more in love with each other, and having a candlelit dinner by the Eiffel Tower felt like an exciting way to kick off your marriage. 

Now, you just felt like an idiot.

The two of you did your absolute best to avoid getting paired up with each other for all of the activities that you could. You found yourself spending most of your time with a solo traveler who was close in age to you. She made a surprisingly fun companion to your cheese and wine taste test, popping cubes of fragrant cheese into your mouth and making a competition out of who could detect the most accurate notes in your wine. 

While you found luck in your first few activities, you weren’t so lucky when it came to an evening ride of the Roue de Paris. Whether it was fate or just bad luck, after the pair in front of you had dipped out of line for reasons unknown to you, you had the shocking realization that Patrick had been in between them the whole time. So much for meeting new people on the massive ferris wheel. 

You tried to look busy so he wouldn’t notice that you noticed, and did your best to think of some sort of game plan. Although you’d essentially been giving each other the silent treatment in the hours leading up to this moment, you’d caught Patrick looking at you multiple times throughout the day—something you only noticed because you’d been looking at him as well. 

After a moment, the two of you were let into an empty passenger car. Sitting across from one another, it was hard to ignore the very obvious elephants in the room, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t try. 

At first, you simply looked out the window, not saying a single word as the ferris wheel began to move. 

“You should put that safety belt on, just in case,” Patrick commented from his side of the car, pulling his eyes away from the window to look at you. 

“I doubt anything will happen,” you shrugged. “It’s fine.”

He eyed you suspiciously for a moment, before leaning over and strapping you in anyway. Your breath caught in your throat, his simple action putting you into serious psychological pain. It wasn’t lost on you how much Patrick liked to take care of you. It was far more obvious when the two of you were dating, with him covering the bills for dates and doing your laundry for you. It had been so ironic to you at the time, how a man who could barely take care of himself always went out of his way to make sure that you were going to be okay. 

Now, his small act of kindness just made your stomach turn. But it wasn’t like you could express any of those feelings. 

“Thanks,” was all that you managed before looking out of the window once more. 

An awkward, heavy silence filled the passenger car once more as the ride began to take the two of you higher. 

“The view is so beautiful,” you commented, unable to remain silent anymore and hoping that your words were neutral enough not to stir any pots. 

“Yeah, it’s really nice,” his gaze remained fixed out the window, before he looked at you once more as if there were words on the tip of his tongue. 

“I honestly don’t know how we managed to get in line in time to see the sunset,” you continued with your boring, neutral small talk. 

“I’m glad we did. This is the perfect spot to watch it.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, continuing to look out the window instead of at the man across from you. “It’s so pretty tonight, too.”

“It is,” he agreed. 

The two of you sat in silence again, only the sound of a soft whirring filling your ears. Then suddenly, all at once, the whirring stopped—and so did your passenger car. 

“Are we stuck?” you asked, looking out nervously at the very tall height that the two of you were currently definitely stuck at. 

“We can’t be. It’ll probably start back up in a second.”

It didn’t start back up in a second. In fact, after a series of announcements in French, an announcement in English suddenly declared that it would be at least an hour before the ride could be fixed. 

At the sound of the announcement, both you and Patrick sighed aloud, still synchronized even after everything you’d been through. 

“Maybe this is a sign,” Patrick piped up. 

“What are you talking about?” you laughed at him, hoping desperately that this didn’t mean that he wanted to continue arguing with you. You genuinely did not have it in you to do so again. You also didn’t have it in you to sleep in another hotel lobby. 

“Well, I’ve been wanting to talk to you all day,” he confessed. 

“Is that why you were staring at me all day?” you teased, a weak, slightly hopeful smile creeping onto your face. 

“I was looking at you because I could feel you staring at me,” he clarified, as if he was setting the record straight. “I don’t want things to be like this between us anymore.”

“Yeah?” you asked, the pit of nerves in your stomach tightening at wherever he was going with his spiel. The anticipation of his words alone made you nauseous. 

“So I think that we should talk about last night,” he suggested. 

That was exactly what you didn’t want to hear him say. You had barely processed the argument yourself, let alone think about anything else that you had to say to Patrick that didn’t involve trying to hurt him as much as he hurt you. 

“We don’t have to. It’s fine. The past is in the past,” you dismissed. 

“It’s not fine, though. Not really,” he countered, all earnestness. You didn’t detect any harshness to his words or any blood in the water that indicated to you that he wanted to do anything more than have an honest conversation with you. “I was so out of line. I can’t- I don’t want you to think that I really believe the things I said about you.”

“Patrick, please…” you trailed off, hoping that he would understand that you didn’t really want to talk about this. Though, you were relieved to learn that he’d only said those things out of the heat of the moment. 

“No,” he stood his ground. “We need to talk about this if we ever want our relationship to improve.”

“Fine,” you gave in. “But you start, so I can collect my thoughts.”

“Of course,” he leaned forward so he could get a better look at you, and you were immediately drawn into some intense eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for acting like a dick yesterday. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did, and I really shouldn’t have let you leave our hotel room. That was really stupid of me. I worried about you for the rest of the night and spent the morning looking for you.”

This was surprising information to you. While you did find it to be a bit of a dick move that Patrick would just let you leave like that after lecturing you about being unsafe in a new country, you hadn’t realized that he’d been late to boarding the coach because he’d been searching for you. You could only imagine the sick feeling he had as he realized he couldn’t find you anywhere. 

“I’m sorry for what I said, too. Insulting you for trying to move on was really unfair of me. I was just… hurt, I guess. When I don’t even have the right to be.”

“You do, a little. We were together for a really long time, so it’s gonna feel weird that we’re starting to see other people,” you shrugged. “That was an excellent apology, that I accept, by the way.”

“Thank you. I really got a chance to practice my apology skills with the last woman I was with,” he explained. You tried to repress the feeling of jealousy that was already bubbling up in your stomach at the mention of another woman. 

“Yeah?” you asked, hoping that he didn’t notice the brief twitch of your eye.

“Yeah. She’s super opinionated and outspoken, so we would butt heads a lot. But that was always something I really liked about her. That, and her magnificent ass.”

Finally, it occurred to you that he was talking about you. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, despite the fact that you were secretly very flattered by the way he was speaking about you. “Ew. Shut up,” you laughed. 

“Well, if you’re done objectifying me, I would love to apologize to you too.”

“All done objectifying you. For now, at least. Go ahead.”

You were a little nervous about the words that were about to come out of your mouth. You just had so much to say, and you weren’t sure that it was all going to come out correctly. 

“I’m sorry for the things I said last night. I genuinely did not mean what I said, I just got caught up in the moment. And I’m really sorry for going through your phone, because that’s seriously none of my business. It was such an unnecessary violation of trust, and I understand if you’re still pissed at me for that. And it was really ridiculous for me to overreact the way that I did over you seeing someone else, because again, it’s really not my business. I feel like I’m kinda the worst,” you confessed. 

“You’re not the worst,” he countered. 

“Fine, I guess. Maybe you just bring the worst out in me,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood slightly. 

“That sounds more accurate. We bring out the worst in each other.”

“Right. That’s why we’re such a good pair,” you paused, then corrected yourself. “Of friends.”

“Is that what we are now?”

“I never said we were good friends.”

“Frenemies?”

“Something like that,” you said, before the familiar whirring sound of the ferris wheel began once more. 

“Huh. Who would’ve thought that the only thing the wheel needed to function was an apology to each other?”

“You’re so annoying,” you laughed and shook your head. “How are we gonna make it through the rest of this trip?”

LONDON, ENGLAND

Your final few days in France had been made far less awkward by your conversation on the ferris wheel. Deciding to fully embrace the couples activities the tour had reserved for you, the two of you were having a good time re-establishing your friendship. 

Your trip to London had gone mostly without a hitch, with your group arriving in the city in the evening and immediately checking in to your hotel. At this point, you had given up on even attempting to get separate beds. It seemed like every morning now you woke up cuddling with Patrick, but you weren’t necessarily mad at the unintentional intimacy. 

In some ways, your relationship was beginning to feel similar to how it felt before the two of you broke up. While you were sure that things wouldn’t be exactly the same—especially since you still hadn’t addressed the elephant in the room that was your breakup—it was nice to return to the comfort you’d found in your relationship with Patrick. 

Like clockwork, the morning after your arrival in London, you woke up with Patrick pressed up against your back, nose buried in your hair. As he woke up, he pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline out of what you were sure was just habit rather than genuine affection. 

“Morning,” he greeted you groggily, rolling away from your side. 

“Morning,” you replied, turning to face him. You ran a hand through his messy morning hair and looked at him fondly. It was taking far more self control than you had to not lean over and kiss him. “What time is it?” you asked, in part to distract yourself, but also because the digital clock was on his side of the bed. 

“It’s…” he trailed off as he went to read the time. “Oh shit, we’re gonna be late.”

“What?” you asked, shooting up from your relaxed position. 

“It’s 8:25,” he explained, already rolling out of bed. 

In a rush, the two of you got dressed in record time, making it down to the lobby in the five minutes that you had to make it on time. You shared a high-five in the lobby, and tried your best not to dwell on how the simple action felt far more domestic than it needed to. 

Your tour began not too long after that, getting your day off to a strong start. Your day of exploring London was by far your busiest. You were sure that you’d accumulated thousands of steps as you went between large museums, beautiful parks, and massive landmarks. By the time that you returned to your hotel room, you were pretty sure that your legs were mush. 

You returned earlier than Patrick, who had gone out to a gastropub with a group of tourists in your group that he got along well with. You took this as an opportunity to have some alone time, taking a long and steaming hot shower, frolicking around the room in a soft hotel robe, and watching a movie while you waited for your room service to arrive. 

After you’d thoroughly enjoyed your alone time, finishing off your room service and opting to scroll on your phone, the door cracked open and Patrick strolled in. 

“Looks like you made yourself right at home,” he observed. 

“I had to after today’s tour. So much walking,” you groaned. 

“It wasn’t all that bad,” he shrugged, sitting down next to you in bed. 

“Well, not all of us are professional athletes,” you laughed. “How was the pub?”

“Fun. It’d be better if you came.”

“I’m sorry, I was exhausted,” you sighed. “You could’ve stayed in with me and had a spa day.”

“We can have a spa day anywhere. We can have a spa day right now.”

“Mm, I’m all spa’d out. But the water pressure in the shower is excellent, so you should definitely check that out.”

“I will in a little bit,” he said. “Did you try out the actual spa here?”

“They were closed when I checked, which really sucks, since I was in desperate need of a massage.”

“Do you still want one?” Patrick asked. 

“Yeah. I’ll probably try to stop by when they’re open tomorrow and get one.”

“No, I mean, do you want a massage now?” he added. 

It had been a long time since Patrick had offered you a massage—or to put his hands on you in any capacity—but you remembered him being criminally talented at giving them. You also remembered his massages usually making for great foreplay that left your knees weak and your brain a pile of jelly, but that clearly wouldn’t be the case now, and you needed to get your head out of the gutter. 

“I mean, sure. That would be nice,” you tried not to sound too excited, though the prospect of a massage from him sounded very, very nice. 

While the prospect of a massage sounded nice, the actual massage was heavenly. You were sure that years of having personal trainers and physical therapists work knots out of his body had made him an expert at finding knots and kinks in your own, which was now leaving you sighing happily as he ran his hands over your back. 

You tried your best to ignore the dull, fiery feeling growing in your lower stomach that was surely a result of experiencing a type of intimacy that you hadn’t in quite some time. As you let out an involuntary soft sound at a particular knot being rubbed out of your shoulder, you wondered if this massage was affecting him nearly as much as it was affecting you.

You promptly received an answer to this question when something hard and phallic brushed up against your leg. You turned your head to glance back at Patrick, and his face immediately grew red. 

“Sorry. I can stop, if you want. It just happened because of the noises you’re making and- whatever. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Part of you felt a little satisfied knowing that you still had that type of impact on him. It gave you a tiny glimmer of hope to know that you were still, at the least, physically attracted to one another. 

“It’s fine. I’ll shut up.”

“You don’t have to. I want this to be as relaxing as possible for you.”

“Well you’re doing a great job, if you couldn’t tell from all of the moaning and groaning on my end.”

You both somehow made it through the rest of the massage without spilling all over the bed, but as you melted into the bed, feeling every muscle in your body relaxed from your excellent massage, you couldn’t help but note the suspiciously long time Patrick was spending in the shower. And maybe it was just your imagination, but if you listened hard enough, you swore you could hear the sound of a soft chanting of your name coming from the other side of the bathroom door. 

While part of you regretted not suggesting that the two of you help each other out with your mutual problems, you were pretty sure that it was for the best. You genuinely didn’t know where the two of you stood, as far as your relationship went. Hooking up would surely further complicate an already complicated situation, since you were pretty sure that ex-fiancés didn’t typically sleep together. But then again, ex-fiancés also didn’t usually go on a honeymoon despite not being together. Your complicated feelings on the matter only further proved to you that you made the right choice by not giving in to your baser desires. 

By the time Patrick joined you in bed, you were already half asleep. Yet, even in your delirious state, you didn’t miss the way he came up behind you, pulling you into a loving embrace. It brought warmth to your chest to know that he couldn’t even wait for your automatic sleep routine to hold you, and that he felt the need to take matters into his own hands. 

You were pretty sure that exes didn’t do that either. 

AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS 

You didn’t know what you expected from your first ferry ride, but being face deep in a barf bag while soothing circles were rubbed into your back was certainly not it. 

Given that you weren’t a frequent rider of large vessels on bodies of water, you had no clue going into the ride that things would go so sideways so quickly for you. If anything, you thought you might have the opportunity to stare peacefully out into the water, or to force Patrick to take a few cute pictures of you. Unfortunately, you were currently doing neither of those things—and it didn’t seem like you’d be doing them any time soon. 

You heaved once more, now almost totally sure that you had nothing left to give. Patrick continued to hold your hair out of your face with one hand and use his other to comfortingly rub your back, not at all fazed by your sickness. If you weren’t currently fighting off another wave of nausea and didn’t have the taste of bile lingering in your mouth, you probably could’ve kissed the man. 

Once your brain finally told you the coast was clear, you leaned your head back and took several deep, gasping breaths of air. 

“You alright, honey?” he asked you, and you didn’t even have the strength—physical or mental—to correct his use of a pet name. 

“I could be better,” you replied, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tilted your head back. “There’s medicine for this, right?”

“Yeah. Let me go see if I can find some.”

As you fought off a war of nausea and headache that was currently beating you on all fronts, you could faintly hear the sound of Patrick asking the people around you if they had any medicine for motion sickness. He eventually returned after what felt like a lifetime, but was probably more like a few minutes, carrying a bottle of Dramamine. 

He helped you take the pill, putting it in your mouth then holding a bottle of water up to your lips to help you swallow it. The action felt oddly romantic, though it was more of a matter of practicality compared to anything else. You were clearly not in a stable enough space to get the pill down on your own, so his assistance wasn’t really anything for you to be over analyzing. 

“Look at you, keeping that down,” he teased, running his hand up and down your arm. The motion was soothing, a bit of bodily comfort amongst a plethora of other awful physical pains you were experiencing. “You’re doing great.”

His soft caresses turned into a full-blown hug, with Patrick pulling you into a tight embrace. While the action itself was rather cute—especially since it seemed to be completely impulsive on his part—it instantly brought on a new wave of nausea. 

“Pat?” you squeaked. 

“Yeah?” he asked. 

“You’re sweet. But if we stay like this, I am going to be sick all over you.”

He pulled away from you with concern, careful not to move too quickly to set off another bout of sickness. While he let go of your body, he continued to hold your hand, as if he were attempting to ground you. With how anxious he was looking, he might’ve been trying to ground himself as well. 

It was cute seeing him so worried about you. You tried your best not to read too much into it, and luckily, your slowly fading nausea was the perfect distraction from doing so. 

“Thank you for the drugs. It was fun watching you scramble all around asking people for help. You’re such a good…” you paused, not really knowing what you were or what to say. “Ex.”

Now wasn’t exactly the ideal time to have the, ‘what are we?’ conversation, but Patrick didn’t seem to mind. And if he did mind, he was doing a damn good job at hiding it. 

“Only the best for my ex.” Maybe you’d just been imaging it, but you swore you sensed a bit of hesitation on his end as he called you his ex. Admittedly, it would be significantly easier for both of you to be calling each other spouses, or even partners. But alas, you weren’t either of those things to each other anymore. 

As if you’d read each other's minds, the two of you quickly moved on from that conversation. 

After you’d arrived and gotten settled into Amsterdam, you set off to explore the city. When presented with a few options of things to do, Patrick insisted that the two of you go on a bike tour, much to your own chagrin. As much as you weren’t sure your legs could handle any more strenuous physical activity, you’d known that Patrick had wanted to take this bike tour since your trip was an actual honeymoon. Who were you to deny him of that?

As the two of you toured the very beautiful city, Patrick made sure to make a show out of his biking skills. While he was no professional cyclist, he certainly had the ego of one—which translated to him going a little too hard at times and nearly falling off of his bike more than once. 

Each time he almost fell, you found yourself also almost falling, the onset of laughter at the ridiculous man riding next to you nearly being too much to handle. Without fail, every time the two of you did your almost falling, then break into a howling laughter routine, you were given dirty looks by your fellow tour mates. Unfortunately, that only made the situation funnier to you and Patrick. 

By the time the tour had wrapped, it was clear that everyone was sick and tired of you. But at least this time, the people around you were sick of the girlish giggles Patrick pulled from you, rather than the rude words he provoked you into saying, like he’d done on the plane. 

It was refreshing to be spending time with him like this. In the time that you’d been so upset about your break up, you forgot about just how good it felt to be around Patrick when your relationship was going well. 

It was also nice to be spending some alone time with him, away from the rest of your tour group. As the two of you looked at strange knick-knacks in an antique store, you realized just how much you missed being alone with him. While it was nice that the two of you had made friends within your group, your dynamic as a duo was obviously something really special. Maybe that’s why the two of you had been together for so long. 

You spent the majority of the afternoon doubled over in laughter, playfully teasing Patrick, or being on the receiving end of subtle, gentle touches. As you really began to think about it, this day of travel had been your favorite—by a long shot. It also happened to be the day that felt most like one from a honeymoon.

Although it had already been clear to you for some time that you still had feelings for Patrick, the day you had spent together had completely sealed the deal. Once Patrick had surprised you with a beautiful bouquet of flowers over dinner, you’d only been more sure that you were sick with love for your ex.

It was a small miracle that you’d rounded out the day without confessing your feelings, particularly since you ended the evening with a movie playing on the television of your hotel room that the two of you barely paid attention to, as Patrick held you and talked about some of the things you’d missed while the two of you were separated. 

In the morning, you woke up to the soft sound of chatter, rather than your loud alarm clock or the sound of deep breaths in the shell of your ear. 

From what you could faintly make out from the words and the lack of a warm body beside you, Patrick was on the phone with his mother. You wanted to feel bad for eavesdropping, especially since you’d just had an argument with Patrick over your snooping habit just over a week ago, but it was far too difficult not to listen in. 

“I’m glad you liked the picture,” you made out from the muffled words behind the doorway. You were sure he was referencing the selfie the two of you took in front of Big Ben a few days ago. You also liked the photo a lot, with the two of you looking particularly good and particularly happy. You’d also taken a more baity photo of him kissing your cheek, specifically to send to his mother who he knew would be overjoyed to see you. While Patrick had explained the idea behind the picture as his mom simply wanting to see you, you knew the more accurate statement is that his mom wanted to see the two of you together. 

After a beat, there was a soft chuckle. “No, we’re not back together. No mom, there’s no ‘yet.’ I know. I’m an idiot, I know- aren’t you supposed to take your child’s side? Well, I don’t know if you know this, but we never ended up getting married, so no, she’s not your daughter. How could she possibly be your favorite child! We just talked about this. I’m gonna hang up. I’m serious. Alright. Love you, bye.”

When Patrick returned, you were already sitting up in bed. 

“Can you tell your mom I say hi next time?” you asked with a cheeky grin on your face, still coming off of the high that was the romantic outing you’d had the day prior. 

“I’m sure she’d love to hear that,” he replied, getting back into bed beside you. “She probably wants to hear from you more than she wants to hear from me.”

You laughed and shook your head, not bothering to argue with his words since you both knew they were pretty accurate. 

“I mean, I’m sure she’ll be inviting you to Thanksgiving and Christmas long after we’ve moved on with other people and have our own families.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. You were sure of it. You thought you could genuinely feel the movement of your most vital organ slowly sinking into a pit of stomach acid. 

You tried not to let your smile falter, considering that Patrick was looking right at you with a sweet look of his own plastered on his face. You wondered if this was some sort of test, to gauge how you felt after a day of rekindling the love the two of you thought had burnt out. 

Or maybe, more realistically, he’d already come to accept the reality that you’d been stalling on accepting: your relationship was truly over. One fun day wouldn’t change the fact that your wedding had been called off, and that the two of you said things to each other that would alter the foundations of any solid relationship for years to come. 

Your heart was such a traitor. She refused to accept the simple fact that Patrick wanted to move on, and that your relationship was a thing of the past. Maybe, if you couldn’t convince your heart to accept that truth, you might be able to force your brain to. 

“And I’ll still be accepting that invitation, thank you very much,” you stated, trying to sound confident in your words. “In the meantime, let’s get ready before we miss this bus. You can tell me what your mom’s menu is gonna look like this year on our ride over.”

SOMEWHERE IN CENTRAL GERMANY

It was stupid for you to be torn up the way that you were over just a few simple words, but the more you thought about it, the worse you felt. 

In reality, it wasn’t just what Patrick had said to you in the hotel room. It was the fact that he’d been actively trying to move on with other people since who knew when, and the way he seemed to frequently verbally reiterate the fact that your relationship was over. By holding out hope that you might somehow be able to repair your relationship, you were being much more naïve than you even realized. 

You felt stupid. But you also felt confused, because as much as Patrick swore he was over you, and pursued other people, he was also far too comfortable acting like nothing had changed between you two. After all, he was the one flirting with you, and trying to attach himself at the hip to you as you traveled. He was the one who always managed to end up spooning you over the course of the night and woke up kissing whatever part of your body he was closest to. For god's sake, he’d just told you yesterday about how he’d searched high and low to find a bouquet of flowers that he thought you would genuinely like. And most damningly, you hadn’t forgotten the look of hurt on his face when he found out that you had slept with someone else. That wasn’t the behavior of someone who was over their partner.

To say you were receiving mixed messages was a complete understatement. You couldn’t understand how it was possible that the man who was currently leaning against you very affectionately, despite being on a cramped bus, was also totally over you and wanted to move on.

You didn’t know what you wanted to do about the situation, but you were sure that you couldn’t keep going like this. 

Your bus stopped somewhere in Germany for the evening, letting you all out to have dinner and do some light sightseeing before regrouping in the morning and heading to Prague. Somehow, that translated to going to a bar to try out German beer for you, Patrick, and a few of the friends you’d made while traveling. 

After a brief intermission of checking into your hotel room, your small group met up in the lobby, then set off to find a bar. 

Drinking while you were feeling a little upset probably wasn’t your brightest idea. The speed and volume at which you were consuming alcohol was a little concerning, but not nearly as concerning as how much Patrick was drinking. Eventually, even in your drunken state, you realized that you should probably slow down—if nothing else, to take care of him. 

But the two of you continued on, going from bar to bar, getting drunk at a level that probably would’ve been acceptable when you were younger, but was certainly going to take a major toll on you now. 

Forgetting about the repercussions of the future, you two were having a great time. Despite you being out with a group, it felt a little bit like the two of you were in your own little bubble. Nothing else in the world seemed to matter as the two of you took shots and danced together. Not the people around you, not the fact that you had to be up early the next morning to make it onto your coach, not even the fact that Patrick had implied that the two of you would move on and have families with other people only a few days ago. 

By the time that the rest of your group had called it quits, explaining that they wanted to be up and functional in time for your ride the next morning, you and Patrick were still in your own little world. It was only after you’d shared a few drunk cigarettes that the two of you decided that the fun should end, and that it was time to head back to your hotel. 

Unfortunately for you, midway through your trek back home, your drinking buddy had given up on walking, leaving you tasked with literally dragging him all the way back to your hotel. While a sober version of yourself would’ve been annoyed by the inconvenience, all you could really think about was how nice it was to have his body so close to yours.

After a tumultuous journey back, the two of you finally made it back to your hotel room. You had only been in the room for a matter of seconds before Patrick collapsed onto the bed and let out a loud sigh of relief, followed by an even louder yawn, as if he was the one who had just carried you down the road.

It was annoyingly endearing. 

You had half the mind to at least get somewhat ready before getting into bed, shedding your outermost layer of clothing before joining Patrick in bed. 

“Thank you,” he said to you once you laid down next to him. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, your head still pleasantly buzzing from the alcohol. “But I’m never doing that again.”

“Aww, why? We had so much fun,” he practically whined. “I always have so much fun when we’re together.”

“I had fun, but you’re so heavy. You’d never guess it. All those muscles,” in the midst of your complaining, you reached over to grab his bicep to demonstrate his point. 

He laughed, which made you laugh, though you didn’t exactly know what you were laughing at. Then, out of the blue, he randomly said your name in a very serious tone. 

“Can you help me with something?” he asked, sounding very genuine and giving you a look that you couldn’t quite place in your drunken state. 

“Anything,” you replied earnestly and meant it. You would probably do literally anything that he asked you to do at that moment. Move a mountain? You’d start pushing. Marry him? You’d wake up an officiant and come up with vows on the spot. Help him hide a body? You were sure you could find a shovel somewhere.

“Can you help me get my shoes off?” he lifted a foot as he spoke to demonstrate his point, a little pout on his lips. You were a little disappointed that he hadn’t asked you for anything else, but you also weren’t quite sure what it was that you wanted him to ask you for. 

You groaned playfully, a long and drawn out sound that you hoped would communicate that you were exhausted after dragging him through the city and comfortable where you were laying. Still, you leaned over and untied his shoes before gently slipping them off. When you looked back up at Patrick, his pants were newly half undone and halfway off, but it looked as if he had given up fully taking his pants off. 

“Need help with that too?” you asked, though you were already working on slipping the article of clothing off of his legs.

Though you tried to push the thought out of your mind, you couldn’t help but recall a similar night the two of you shared several years ago. Your relationship was still relatively new, but you were already very obviously in love. So in love that you’d gone out of your way to set up a surprise party to celebrate a particularly successful tennis match, decorating your apartment with photos of him with trophies and other tennis paraphernalia and inviting as many of his close friends that you could track down. Still riding the high of winning and his all-consuming adoration of you, Patrick had partied a little too hard, leaving you in charge of tucking him in at the end of the night. 

After bringing him a glass of water, the man snuggled into your sheets and slurred out a comment about how they smelled like you. You felt your cheeks warm as he continued on in a disjointed ramble, talking about how much he appreciated you and how no one had ever gone out of their way to make him feel like that before. He ended his monologue with a request for you to help him take his clothes off, and you happily obliged. It was tender and far more intimate than you’d expected, and ended in a drawn out kiss that left you giggling as you told Patrick that he tasted like Smirnoff Ice. 

Even as inebriated as you currently were, the nostalgia made you feel a little dizzy. 

By the time you’d finished helping him get his pants off, Patrick had clearly given up on getting his shirt off, too. Once again, you moved your hands up his body and helped him out with the piece of fabric. 

“Look at that. All ready for bed,” you commented, setting a hand on his bare chest. The small action made your heart soar, and you promptly decided that it was probably better for you to avoid touching him altogether. 

“My watch?” Patrick asked, lifting his wrist up to show you the accessory. 

“You can take your watch off yourself,” you replied, leaning back into bed and finally laying down. 

“Fine.”

“Night, Patty,” you said, reaching over to turn out the bedside lamp. 

“Wait,” he paused pensively, as if he was digging deep in the recesses of his mind to conjure up what he was about to say. “A kiss?”

“Patrick!” you gasped, sounding far more scandalized by the proposition than you actually were. Of course you would give him a kiss, you just weren’t sure you were ready to open up that can of worms, especially after you’d had a minor crisis at the realization that he genuinely wanted to move on.

“No goodnight kiss? C’mon. Fully commit to tucking me in,” Patrick insisted, as if it was the most logical thing ever. As if either of you had the self control to not let something as simple as a kiss spiral out of control. 

“Fine,” you sighed before pressing a gentle peck to his forehead, figuring that was the safest place to do so. A forehead kiss was about as platonic as it got with you.  “Sweet dreams.”

“Thank you,” he said, rather sweetly as his eyes shut. “Love you.”

Those words instantly gave you pause, causing you to suddenly feel very alert and very sober.

“Sorry, what did you just say?”

“I said I love you?” Patrick repeated, looking at you with confusion. “What?”

“Nothing,” though it was very much not nothing. In fact, if his confession was true, it would change everything. “Go to bed.”

“Wait, what?” Patrick grabbed your arm, looking very worried in the low light of the room. “You’re mad. You’re mad that I love you?”

You didn’t even know how you were supposed to react to that admission. While it had been exactly what you’d been dying to hear from him for months, it only further complicated your already very complicated situation.

“I’m not mad, I’m… I’m just tired. Let’s go to sleep, okay?”

Your explanation seemed to placate Patrick enough to let it go and go to sleep. He shuffled around to get comfortable behind you, before pulling you in to hold you as he’d done for the entirety of the trip. Except, tonight, it didn’t feel quite right. The mixture of his frequent rejections of you, paired with his casual confession that he still loved you made your head spin. 

The following morning, you woke up with a pounding in your head and a gross taste in your mouth—only one of which, you could fully attribute to the drinking you’d done last night. You clumsily reached for your phone, and found yourself pleasantly surprised to find an announcement about the delay of the next bus you would be getting on. 

You got out of bed with a grunt, your entire body aching with the reminder of having to drag Patrick through the city last night. Somehow, the sore muscles didn’t hurt nearly as much compared to the memory of being told that Patrick still loved you. 

You slowly paced back and forth around your hotel room, desperately trying to organize your racing thoughts. Did Patrick actually mean what he said last night? Or had been caught up in the heat of the moment? If anything, the latter seemed more likely, since he’d been very obviously trying to distance himself from you. But had he really been distancing himself from you, or just talking about distancing himself from you? If his care for you on the ferry had been any indication of how he really felt about you, it was possible that his drunken words were more honest than you were trying to convince yourself that they were. 

Finally, you decided to stop annoying the person staying in the room under you with your increasingly frantic pacing, and to go outside to walk. Some fresh air would be good for you anyway. 

“Where’re you going?” a muffled voice, heavy with sleep asked. You paused the tying of your shoes to look over at the bed, where Patrick was currently squinting at you.  

“I’m just going for a walk,” you told him. “Go back to sleep. The coach is coming late.”

“Wait for me. I’ll come with you.”

That was probably the last thing you needed or wanted. After all, the whole purpose of your walk was to help you sort out your thoughts about Patrick. To say he wasn’t a welcome addition to your trip was an understatement.

“Okay,” you said anyway, against your better judgment. It seemed like you hadn’t been using much of your judgment at all on this trip. What was one more poor decision on top of a series of poor decisions?

You watched him get ready from where you were sitting, quietly impressed with his ability to get up and be functional despite surely being just as hungover—if not more—than you. He also seemed wholly unaffected by the conversation you’d had last night, which was something that you certainly couldn’t say for yourself. 

With sunglasses perched on your nose and the weight of your entire relationship placed on your shoulders, the two of you headed out into the city, walking on the same sidewalks that you’d practically carried Patrick down the previous night. 

“Last night was fun,” Patrick commented, making small talk with you as you began to head down the street. 

“Some parts,” you agreed, hoping that he’d recall you grunting as you lugged him down the street, rather than your shock when he told you that he still loved you. 

“I honestly don’t remember most of the night,” Patrick said with a chuckle that almost sounded a little forced. You couldn’t be sure if he was being honest or searching for a cop out for the things he’d told you before you went to sleep, but you weren’t sure that it really mattered.

“Unfortunately, I do,” you replied. 

“Oh no. I hope I wasn’t too much of a pain.”

“You were like, slightly above average in terms of being a pain. Nothing I’m not used to.” You figured that maybe you could banter your way out of this situation. Perhaps if you just pretended that everything was okay, things would magically become okay.

But that didn’t feel alright. In fact, it wasn’t alright. If you ever wanted to improve your relationship with Patrick, you had to stop beating around the bush with him. You were both adults. You’d been together for years, yet you felt like you wasted far too much time not being straightforward with your thoughts and feelings. If there was going to be a next time for the two of you, you wanted things to be different. 

“You did say something kinda interesting last night, though.” While it had been easy to talk up a big game in your head, you immediately regretted the words that came out of your mouth. Regardless, it was too late for you to back out. 

Patrick laughed nervously before asking, “what?”

“You just… you kinda told me you still have feelings for me, or whatever. I just think, maybe we should talk about it. Or at least talk about us.”

The man next to you paled at your words. Your regret for bringing the topic up immediately grew exponentially. 

“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about,” Patrick said, though he was lying through his teeth and both of you knew it. You wanted to approach this topic with civility and an open mind, but his blatant lie was making that a rather difficult task.

“Are you kidding? We’ve been tip-toeing around it this entire trip.”

“We’re broken up. You called off our wedding. I don’t think it gets any more straightforward than that,” he dismissed with a gross simplification of the state of your relationship.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it. And even if it was, all I said was that I didn't think I was ready to get married. You put the final nail in the coffin when you told me you fell out of love with me. But I don’t know how I’m supposed to interpret you not being in love with me anymore when you still act the way that you act with me.”

You could tell the direction this conversation was going, your discussion quickly veering into argument territory as Patrick began to invade your space as he always did when you argued. 

“And how exactly do I act with you?” he challenged, though you were sure he knew exactly what you were talking about.  

“Do you want me to give you a list or something?” you asked, his anger becoming contagious.

“Sure, why not,” he said drily. 

“Fine. Let’s start with the cuddling, then. Please enlighten me, do you know any exes who spoon regularly? I mean, I certainly don’t. I don’t even touch my friends like that. So I don’t know what that really makes us. Or maybe how jealous you got when you saw me with someone else. I really can’t think of any sort of platonic explanation for that, and trust me, I’ve tried. And while we’re at it, I guess I should mention those showers. I respect the hell out of your faith in the thickness of these hotel walls, but I actually can hear you moaning my name while you’re in there. I’m honestly a little flattered, but I’m mostly confused.”

“Like you’re not doing the same,” Patrick scoffed. You knew him well enough to recognize that he was masking his true feelings with hostility, and though you wanted to engage in an actual conversation with him, you weren’t sure you would be able to take the high road in this conversation.

“Sure, but I’m not the one in denial of what’s going on here!”

“I’m not in denial. Have you ever considered that maybe I want to move on?”

“Do you, though?” you asked, pausing on the sidewalk.

“Clearly, I do,” he stopped right along with you, now really getting in your face.

“Clearly,” you repeated with a laugh. “Maybe you should start acting like it.”

“Maybe you should stop clinging to the past.”

His piercing gaze was unwavering as he waited to read your reaction. You knew how he liked to play this game, looking for an indication of any sort of weakness from you. You refused to give him that, though his words cut deep. 

“Okay,” you said calmly, though you were very much not feeling calm on the inside. “Well, thanks for letting me know how you really feel. Or how you think you feel. I don’t really know anymore. And I don’t think you know either.”

PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC

If you had known that telling Patrick that he drunkenly confessed to loving you would’ve broken the already very delicate relationship the two of you had built back up, you never would’ve said anything at all. As it turned out, having some of Patrick was better than not having him at all.

The contempt he now felt for you had become so strong that he didn’t even seem to be able to look at you. He sat next to a different person on the bus to Prague, not even sparing you a glance. When you arrived at the hotel, he made it a point to ask for separate rooms—something the two of you hadn’t done the entirety of your trip. As your tour began, he seemed to make a strong effort to separate himself from you, standing in the back of your group when you were in the front and vice versa. 

Usually, even after your worst arguments, you’d been able to find the time to talk out your feelings, but now it seemed like Patrick couldn’t even find it in himself to give you that.

You wanted to be mad at Patrick too. You were mad at him. But you missed him more than you were angry with him, and you yearned to be with him, no matter how crazy his constant antics drove you. 

Part of you felt frustrated that your relationship had become so cyclical since your breakup. You weren’t sure you could handle another cycle of fighting to the point of real anger, then making up with your relationship still a little more strained than it was in the past. You just wanted Patrick. Why did things have to be any more complicated than that? 

You desperately clung on to any bits of hope that your relationship might persist, coming out of this argument altered, but still existing. You snuck peeks at Patrick while you toured a beautiful castle and tried to bite your tongue until you stopped thinking of how badly you wanted to grab him and joke about his home looking like that castle. You wondered if he wanted to put your initials on a lock and put it on a bridge as much as you did. You wished you could ask him if he missed the warm body in bed beside him the way you did. 

But every time you looked at him, he was pointedly not looking at you. As your group paused on the bridge to allow couples the time to make their own locks, Patrick didn’t even spare a glance in your direction. You were sure that even if he did miss you in bed, or wherever else, he would never tell you about it. 

You didn’t want it to be over—but you couldn’t keep clinging to hope that it wasn’t. 

GENEVA, SWITZERLAND

Getting to view the breathtaking scenery of the Swiss Alps as you sat on a cable car had been a dream of yours for years. What wasn’t included in that dream was dodging the glare of your ex-fiancé as the two of you sat in silence on that very gondola. 

Unluckily for the two of you, you were stuck together for the afternoon. Private skiing lessons in the Swiss Alps sounded like a great, even romantic, idea while you were planning the trip, but it was far from romantic now. 

The two of you stood on opposite sides of your instructor, the tension between you so thick that in the midst of his safety spiel, he paused to ask if everything was okay between you. After a stilted reply of yes, your instructor looked at you both skeptically before carrying on. 

Seeing as Patrick was an athlete who spent his childhood school breaks in Aspen, he was pretty decent at skiing already. Far better than you, a novice who was moving a little bit like a giraffe standing on its feet for the first time. 

While it wasn’t your first time skiing—that had been on a family vacation you’d tagged along on with the Zweigs—you certainly were not experienced enough to be keeping up with Patrick, who had the experience and the ego to give even your instructor a run for his money. 

It was entertaining to watch him in his element, his competitive side coming out despite the fact there was no competition anywhere to be found. He was significantly faster than you wherever you went, and skied with a confidence that you doubted you would ever be able to exhibit. In the past, this behavior may have been slightly endearing to you, but right now, it was mostly a little annoying. 

You and your instructor stood above Patrick, watching him effortlessly glide down the mountain in front of you. If you weren’t so agitated, you might actually have been impressed. As if your instructor was actively reading your mind, he leaned over to say something to you. 

“I think he’s trying to impress you,” he said quietly, though the subject of your conversation was an entire slope away. 

You nearly choked on your own saliva at the observation. “No way.”

“What do you mean no way?” he laughed. “Trust me, I’ve been doing this for years, and I’ve seen it all. Couples, crushes, friends, coworkers. I know posturing when I see it.”

“Trust me, he could care less.”

He looked at you with a doubting squint.  “Why don’t we go down there and ask him?”

“Absolutely not,” you laughed. The thought of asking Patrick anything after the interactions you’d had seemed absolutely ridiculous. At this point, you wouldn’t even ask him what time it was. 

“Sorry. Let me rephrase that. That was me telling you that it’s time for you to go down the slope.”

You looked downhill at where you needed to go, noting that it was far steeper than what you’d been practicing on leading up to this point. You had been looking for an excuse to stall going down it, but now that your instructor had said something about that, you couldn’t not go.

After taking a deep breath, you began to go down. Gaining a bit of speed, you also found yourself growing slightly more confident, closing your eyes and feeling the cold air press against your body. While you were enjoying your speed at first, it was quickly growing out of hand, and you began to panic as you realized just how fast you were going. Desperately trying to pull your skis into a V shape to slow down, you were horrified at the realization that you were far too late, and actively heading towards a cluster of trees. You didn’t know what to do other than to accept your fate, and everything had happened so fast anyway that you found yourself tumbling into a tree, a searing pain on your ankle and tailbone as you laid out on the rocky ground.

Everything felt like it was moving slowly and quickly at the same time. One second, you were alone in the snow, and the next, Patrick and your ski instructor were hovering over you, goggles on their foreheads as they looked at you with concern.

“Are you okay?” you were finally able to make out once the slight ringing in your ears had ceased. 

“Did you see how hard she crashed? Of course she isn’t fucking okay,” Patrick’s voice huffed, though slightly muffled from your helmet covering your ears.

“My ankle,” you said, as if that gave them enough context. You wondered if they could see the tears beginning to pool under your goggles. The pair looked at your limb, though with your snowsuit covering it, they really couldn’t see much. 

“Can you walk?” your instructor asked you. 

“I haven’t tried, but I’m gonna go with no.”

“We’re gonna have someone check you out. Don’t worry, they’ll be here soon,” your ski instructor told you. You blinked a few times and mustered all the strength you could to nod. 

The longer you sat, the more you began to realize how badly everything hurt. From your head down to your surely swollen ankle, you weren’t feeling too hot. You closed your eyes, suddenly feeling very exhausted. Maybe a quick little nap was exactly what you needed to feel a little better.

“Hey, don’t do that. You hit your head pretty hard when you fell, so you might have a concussion.”

“I don’t, I’m just tired,” you explained, though you didn’t know for a fact that it was true. In fact, with the pounding in your head, you more likely than not had a mild concussion. 

“Well, you kinda have to stay awake,” Patrick told you, though he surely knew it was easier said than done. You were surprised when you felt his gloved hand take yours and squeezed your hand softly. “Hey, why don’t you tell us a story?” he suggested, clearly just trying to keep you awake.

“Do you wanna hear the story about how he proposed to me?” you asked the instructor. You weren’t sure why that was the first thing to pop into your head, but it was a long enough story to keep you awake until help arrived. You wished your goggles were slightly less tinted, so you could at least see the scandalized expression Patrick was probably making. You loved when you made him react like that, since the roles were usually reversed. 

“Well, yeah. Of course,” your instructor responded with a hint of a laugh. “You guys are engaged?” he directed towards Patrick.

“This is our honeymoon,” you replied before Patrick had an opportunity to respond. You wished you could see the confused look that your instructor was surely making.

“So what happened?”

“When he proposed?” you asked to clarify. 

“...Sure.”

“Well, for a little context, Patrick here is a professional tennis player. He’s really good too. So given my athletic ability, as you got to see today, I never really played with him. Like, he would always ask me to just play a fun, quick little round and I would always tell him no. Mostly because I knew he would crush me. I did play a little bit back in the day, but I was nowhere near his level. I mostly preferred to be on the sideline while we dated. I mean, I came to every single one of his games. I’m pretty sure my office introduced remote work to us because of me, since I was traveling all the time to see him.

“Anyway, one day, after a day of buttering me up, and I mean, he was really laying it on thick. I don’t know how I didn’t think something was up,” you laughed as you recalled the day, how Patrick had scheduled a nail appointment for you, then wined and dined you during a very romantic midday picnic. “But he asked me to play a little bit of tennis with him. I think I just thought he spent the day buttering me up so that I would play tennis with him, not that I would agree to marry him, but I digress. 

“We get to the tennis court and Patrick’s nervous like I’ve never seen him. He was a little jittery all day, but this was a different beast. Looking back, I really don’t understand why. He should’ve known I was going to say yes. Anyway, we’re playing, and somehow I win, even though I’m extremely rusty and have absolutely awful form. Obviously I knew Patrick threw the match for me, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t gonna gloat at him. 

“So I’m doing my victory spiel and I walk over to his side of the court, where he’s digging in his bag. He’s so quiet, which should’ve been a sign that something was up, and I’m thinking he’s about to pull out more tennis balls and tell me we’re doing a rematch, so he can really crush me. Instead, he pulls out a box and gets down on one knee. He gives me a speech about how he didn’t care if he never won another game of tennis in his life, because as long as we were together, he was a winner. It was really sweet. Obviously I said yes.”

You finally looked over at Patrick, though you couldn’t perfectly read his expression through the darkened lens of your goggles. You wondered if he felt any of the same feelings that were currently simmering in your own chest. Though, you didn’t get to stew too long, as help arrived just as your story came to a close. 

You were taken to an infirmary and given a series of tests, some to see the state of your head and other to see how the rest of your body was doing. Surprisingly, you made it out without too much serious damage. Your ankle was sprained, but nothing that would make it take too long to heal. You had a concussion, which surprised you, given your ability to recall so many details earlier in the day, but it was a very mild one. At least you’d made it back into your hotel in one piece. 

You really just wanted to relax for the rest of the evening, and you had plans to do exactly that, when there was suddenly a soft rapping at your door. 

You got up, and with help from the crutches you were provided, you hobbled to the door and opened it. On the other side was Patrick, who you were both surprised and unsurprised to see. 

“Hey. I got your room number from the front desk,” Patrick told you. “Do you mind if I come in?”

“Sure, but I’m probably going to sleep soon,” with some effort, you sidestepped the doorway to let him in.

“Do you need anything? Want anything?” he asked as he made himself at home in your room, evaluating what you already had. 

“I’m good, I think.”

“How’re you feeling? They wouldn’t let me see you at the infirmary.”

“I’ve been better,” you shrugged, sitting down on the foot of your bed to take some pressure off of your aching ankle. 

“I bet. Are you icing that?” he asked, gesturing to your most obvious injury. 

“I haven’t been able to make it out to the ice machine,” you confessed, though the doctor had suggested ice for the inflammation. 

“Let me go grab some for you,” he said before disappearing out into the hallway. Once he left, you laid back in bed, letting out a sigh of relief at how much better being flat felt. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like being taken care of this way. It seemed like no matter how bad things got between the two of you, you would always care for one another in some capacity. You wondered what had gone through Patrick’s mind when he saw you hurt yourself. You wondered if that changed anything in the way he felt about you. 

He knocked on the door once more to tell you he was back, though the door was already unlocked. 

“If there’s anything else you need, I mean anything at all, just call me. I’m just down the hall from you,” he told you as he bagged up the ice he retrieved. 

He sat down on the foot of the bed, where you’d previously been sitting, and tenderly set the bag of ice on your ankle, clearly not wanting to hurt you any more than you were already hurt. He looked at you a little sadly before standing back up, not wanting to linger in your presence too long. 

“I’ll let you get some sleep,” he explained, already turning to head towards the door. 

“Thanks, Patrick,” you paused, looking for any other words you had for him. “Good night.”

“Night.”

SOMEWHERE IN ITALY

The next few days in Switzerland had been extremely boring. Due to doctor’s orders, you mainly stayed in bed, avoiding screens by reading books, and looking out the window to view the mountains that you were currently missing. 

Although you had to miss a lot of the fun your tour was going on, like a cheese and chocolate tour, you somehow still received an anonymous delivery of cheeses and chocolates—though, you were pretty sure you knew who was responsible for that. 

Patrick didn’t seem like he wanted to overstep any boundaries, which you respected, though you really could’ve used some company whose ear you could talk off. Hell, you’d even take another nasty argument over the resounding silence of your room. 

Luckily for you, by the time your group was traveling once again, you were starting to feel slightly better, concussion and ankle-wise. Though, your head was starting to hurt from listening to a person at the front of the bus go on about how much they needed the bus to pull over somewhere. 

After a period of incessant complaining from someone on your bus, the vehicle finally came to a stop at a small rest stop in the middle of the Italian countryside. 

Not willing to pass up an opportunity to stretch your legs, you got off at the stop, briefly stopping inside the building to look at what they had to offer before stepping behind the building, watching the wind blow through the overgrown weeds. 

Your attempt at enjoying the quiet, idyllic countryside was disturbed when you were joined by a smoking companion. 

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he said. 

Before you could stop it, a sad smile appeared on your face. The two of you hadn’t spoken since your brief conversation in your hotel room, despite the mystery snack deliveries and the promise of coming if you called.

“I’ve been worried about you,” he said plainly.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” you dismissed. 

“You’ve spent the last few days all alone in a room with a concussion.”

“It’s mild.”

“You fucked up your ankle.”

“It’s healing. It’s not all that bad.”

“Well, I’ve been worried anyway,” he passed you his partially smoked cigarette and you took a drag from it, though you were sure that was one of the things you shouldn’t be doing with a concussion. 

“Thanks, I guess.” you said. “So is this just a wellness check, or…?”

“No, well, yes. Obviously I was worried about you physically, but I also was wondering about how you were in general.”

It was strange to see him clumsily mince his words, given how bold he usually was.

“Oh? What changed between here and Germany?”

“What changed? What changed was that I watched you almost die.”

You laughed aloud at his over dramatization of the event. “Patrick, I did not almost die.”

“How would I have known that? I just saw you flying downhill out of control and crashing and it terrified me. I couldn’t imagine a world without you in it.”

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to interpret his words, especially after the wild ride you’d been on throughout the trip. You weren’t sure you could handle another emotional bait and switch. 

“Pat, maybe we should talk about this later. The bus is probably taking off soon.”

“No,” he stopped you with a hand on your arm, calling you back with a desperation you hadn’t seen in him in a long time. “I don’t want to waste another second without you.”

“Okay,” you said, though you weren’t sure that you should buy into it yet. “Go ahead, then.”

“I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want you or don’t want to be with you,” he confessed, which genuinely took you by surprise. With the way he’d been dodging your attempts at building a connection, you certainly didn’t think he’d tell you something like that. 

“Then why have you been pretending?” you asked, hoping that your somewhat harsh words didn’t betray your genuine curiosity behind his behavior. 

“I don’t know,” he said. It was a terrible, unsatisfying answer. One that didn’t explain a single reason behind his behavior. “I guess I just can’t wrap my head around the idea that anyone would want to keep me around long-term.”

You looked at him with shock in your eyes, your mouth slightly agape at the confession. You couldn’t imagine Patrick, overconfident, bold, and self-assured, who you’d been dating for years, not feeling secure in your relationship–to the point where he’d been actively trying to push you away out of anticipating how you’d feel about him.

“When you told me you weren’t ready to be with me, it just confirmed everything I’d been worried about—that one day you would wake up next to me and realize that I wasn’t the guy you wanted. I guess it just happened sooner than I anticipated.”

You almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “If you felt like that, then why’d you tell me you weren’t in love with me anymore?”

“I thought if you were gonna leave me anyway, I might as well beat you to the punch.”

You were giving it your all to keep it together at this point, feeling slightly vindicated to know that Patrick was lying about no longer loving you, but mostly devastated that your whole relationship had been uprooted over an assumption that Patrick had made about you. 

“I… I don’t even know what to say,” you looked out into the grass, then back at Patrick. “I wish you’d stop assuming that you know what I want all the time.”

“Hey you two, last call for the coach,” your tour guide suddenly interrupted, looking very obviously annoyed that the two of you were holding the bus up. 

“Sorry. We’ll head back now,” you apologized to the guide. “We’ll continue this conversation later?” you directed towards Patrick. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. 

VENICE, ITALY

Putting a hold on your conversation probably wasn’t the wisest idea you’d ever had, considering that your next few days in Italy were set to be your busiest this far. 

Between gondola rides on different boats and exploring historic palaces, the two of you didn’t have much time to stop and have as serious of a talk as you wanted to have. Even if you did somehow manage to pick up where you’d left off, there were so many people around you that it didn’t even feel worth it. 

Luckily for you, your hotel had a private beach attached to it, and as you spent your evening by the beach, watching the sun go down, you were pleased to find that you were joined by familiar company. 

At first, Patrick didn’t say anything as he sat down on the same chair next to you. The two of you enjoyed the serene sunset and privacy that the beach afforded you in silence, though you were sure that things wouldn’t stay that way for long. 

“I love you, you know?” he finally piped up, breaking the silence with a very bold declaration. 

You looked at him calmly, though you weren’t feeling very calm on the inside. You’d been waiting to hear those words from him from the moment that the two of you broke up. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to react to it now, though the confession was better late than never. 

“I love you too. I never stopped,” you told him simply, as if the realization that you were stuck on him hadn’t been haunting you for months now.

“I never did, either. It was cruel of me to ever tell you that I did.”

You nodded in agreement, wondering if Patrick would ever understand the full extent of the damage his words had done to you. “It was, but I understand where you were coming from. If I had known that you didn’t think I was going to stick around, I would’ve gone about what I did differently,” you began to explain. “I think it came across as me not wanting to marry you at all. Of course I wanted to marry you. There was just so much else going on in my life then that the timing didn’t feel right.”

“But the timing might be right someday?” Patrick asked, a hopeful lilt in his voice. 

“The timing will be right someday. Maybe sooner than either of us know,” you shot him a wink, then broke into a grin as he pulled you into a firm, loving embrace. 

ATHENS, GREECE 

The rest of your time in Italy mainly consisted of making up for lost time, with the two of you partaking in far more PDA than what was ever necessary and thoroughly documenting your time abroad together as a couple. 

Thanks to your injury, you were slightly slower than the rest of your group. But that certainly didn’t stop Patrick from lagging along with you, letting you lean on him for support when you needed it and pausing to sit and take breaks with you whenever you noticed that walking was taking too much of a toll on you.

It was nice to be back with him, to not have to feel stupid for feeling what you felt or feel the pressure of knowing that you should probably be trying to move on. The only unfortunate part was how little time the two of you had left on vacation, with you heading home after spending a few days in Athens. If only the two of you had been upfront about your feelings earlier, then you could’ve been having as great of a time as you were having now during your entire trip. 

The two of you briefly floated the idea of having somewhat of a shotgun wedding, but scrapped it after realizing that you would prefer to have your family and friends there to celebrate with you. After all, many of them had been on the emotional rollercoaster that was your relationship right along with you. 

For the time being, the two of you were perfectly content with being together, and knowing that neither of you had any intentions of leaving. 

Somehow, that made your last few days of vacation feel infinitely better. 

ATHENS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

You scrolled endlessly on your phone, sending out a few messages to friends and family to let them know that you were heading back home. While you typically felt a few nerves before boarding a plane anywhere, you couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of excitement, both at the thought of being able to go back home and sleep in your own bed, and at the potential your newly reformed relationship had. 

Your scrolling was interrupted by Patrick’s presence, carrying a coffee and a breakfast sandwich in his hands with a slightly goofy look on his face. 

“Sorry for taking so long. I think everyone and their mother wanted coffee today,” he explained as he sat down, passing you your items as he got comfortable next to you. 

“No worries. I’m just glad you were running late to grab us breakfast, instead of trying to switch our seats like last time.”

The two of you shared a laugh before Patrick said, “That feels like a lifetime ago.”

“It basically was,” you dismissed. 

Once it was announced that your group was boarding, the two of you stood up quickly, attempting to gather your bearings before getting on the plane. 

“‘Till next time, Europe,” you bid the country goodbye as the two of you made your way to the line. 

“Should we come back to Europe? I was thinking our next honeymoon should be somewhere else. Maybe Bali.”

“Oooh, Bali sounds nice. I think anywhere warm and with a beach is good,” you explained, though you really didn’t care where you went, as long as Patrick was there by your side.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Dave Lizewski x best friend fem!reader

Summary: Dave is devastated by your supposed crush on his alter-ego, Kick-Ass.

Genre: hurt and comfort, fluff

Warnings: jealous!Dave, swearing, not explicitly consensual kissing (both of them are okay with it however!), blood

~ thank you for requesting, anon!! this was a very cute idea!~

DAVE LIZEWSKI MASTERLIST

The comic store was more crowded than usual that afternoon. You, Todd, Marty, and Dave had squeezed into your usual booth, with you and Dave squished shoulder to shoulder as he rambles on and on as you stare at the small TV in the corner which is playing more news coverage about Kick-Ass. Your cheeks feel significantly warmer.

"She's drooling again," Marty quips, and all three boys turn and look at you with interest. 

"Who knew girls were so horny," Todd comments with a smirk and sucks his milkshake obnoxiously.

Dave, unlike the other two, looks positively flustered as he watches you. His eyes land on the screen and then on yours.

"Hm, doesn't the suit look good on him," you hum and sigh, turning to your friends with a serious expression. "Do'you think he's young? He looks young."

"Looks around our age, so I suppose that means you're free to bone him, Y/n." Todd shrugs. 

That makes Dave blush crimson.

You slap Todd's arm from across the table. "Shut up."

"We all know you want to," Marty adds and sips his milkshake like he knows something. You chew on your lip, subconsciously leaning into Dave as you turn back to look at the TV and let out an amused sigh as your eyes stay glued onto the screen. 

This isn't the first time you're pining over Kick-Ass. You've been doing it for a while now and it makes Dave blush every damn time. Some part of him feels like an asshole for feeling that way about you considering you aren't drooling over him. Not over Dave, your best friend.

No, you're drooling over a superhero who is completely different from himself. His alter-ego, someone who is undeniably so much better than him. 

How can Dave Lizes ever compete with Kick-Ass?

Todd kicks him in the shin but you're too entranced to sense the tension.  

"What?" Dave mouths and his cheeks flame crimson when Todd points between you and him and makes obnoxious kissing noises. Dave sends his friends a frown and shushes them with a shake of his head. Luckily for him, you aren't paying any attention as you watch the screen, your mind focused on only one thing. 

How does Kick-Ass look so damn good in that stupid costume?

* * *

Sirens go off as Dave limps away, blood staining his lip. He's not badly hurt, just a little shaken up. It isn't like he could feel much of the pain anyway. He sniffs and wipes a hand under his lip, groaning. The air is cold and the night is cloudy. He's been so preoccupied by you that he's been shit at his job—or worse than usual. 

Dave prepares to walk home when he hears a small sniffle from behind a tree in the park he's walking by. He frowns,something stirring in his chest as if pulling him toward the sound. 

Someone could be hurt. 

He forces some bravado as he rounds the park gate and approaches the tree, the sniffling becoming louder. 

His body stiffens when he sees you huddled behind a dress, wearing that dress you'd shown him a thousand pictures of. Realization dawns on him. Corey Addams. You did have a date with him tonight. 

That dickhead.

"What are you doing here?" The question comes out weirdly interrogating as Dave's voice lowers in an attempt to have him be unrecognizable to you and you jump, looking up as you frantically paw at your teary cheeks.

Dave feels like a jerk as he watches your face morph into one of panic and he kneels down, now panicked in his own way. "Hey, hey, it's okay. M' not gonna hurt you. Are you okay?"

He's fumbling with his words, unsure if he's even doing the right thing. You blink at him, your eyes still watery. Dave knows you have a crush on Kick-Ass so this must be extra embarrassing and in his panic, he looks you up and down and fakes a much too insightful educated guess as a way to make you comfortable. 

"Did you just get dumped?"

You scrunch up your nose in confusion and shake your head. Your crying has ceased and you huddle your arms around your legs, resting your chin on your knee. You sigh and look around at the mostly empty park.

"I'm hopeless," you say, not looking at Kick-Ass in particular. 

Dave swallows and fully sits down now, unsure what else he can do. As a superhero he wants to make sure you're safe, and as your best friend, he has a burning desire to stay with you. You turn to him and chuckle out a laugh, sniffling.

"What's so funny?" he asks, confused.

"Me. I'm a fucking joke," you whisper, laughing as you try not to cry again. "I'm so stupid."

"Why do you say that?" Dave asks in a rush, his voice high again. You're too busy self-loathing to hear the change. 

"Because I spend all my fucking time pretending that the one boy I am in love with, I am not actually in love with him! A-and then I go around trying to forget him with any boy that smiles my way or simply walks by and they're never good enough."

Dave thinks you're talking about Kick-Ass and he panics even more. "I-"

"Like how fucking stupid am I? Rambling on and on about you when all I want is him?"

Dave's heart sinks. Shit, he thinks, so you must be talking about Corey then.

After a beat of silence, he says, "I'm sure your date likes you back." He assumes you're most likely overwhelmed since you had said Corey didn't dump you and it's late and—

"My date?" you laugh, "What are you talking about? No. Not my date. My best friend," you ramble on, tears still falling. "I love him and I've messed it up too many times pretending like I don't. I- and Corey told me David's in love with Katie and I just feel so stupid."

You're too distraught to catch on to how weird it is that Kick-Ass has more information about your date than he should as you ramble on and on to him as if he understands who everyone is. Dave can tell you're mostly just speaking out your frustrations. 

"D-David?"

You nod, sniffling. "Dave. My best friend, the guy I'm in love with," you tell him and look at Kick-Ass, groaning immediately and then holding your face in your hands like you'd just done something shameful. "Fuck, I'm sorry, this is inappropriate. I'm so sorry I am wasting your time—"

You lower your hands and then he's kissing you before you can finish the sentence. His hands cup around your cheeks as he leans in and continues to kiss you.

You lose yourself in the moment for a bit, your very real yet superficial attraction to Kick-Ass kicking in as you kiss him back until reality finally snaps in and you push him away, scrambling up. 

"What the fuck?!" you scream, feeling violated as you wipe your lips with your hand.

Dave panics now fumbles with his costume. "W-Wait, let me explain," he mutters as he frantically pulls at the zipper behind his neck and throws his mask onto the dirt. He looks up, brown curls falling in front of his eyes. Your eyes widenand you blink at him. 

"Hi," Dave mumbles, his blue eyes shining as the tips of his ears burn. 

"Fuck!" you shriek and lean forward, kneeling again as you now cover his face with your hands, all kinds of emotions overcoming you. "What is wrong with you?!" You grab his mask, shoving it in his hands. Your heart is pounding as he stumbles, falling over from the roughness of the way you're tackling him. 

He grunts and holds your waist with one hand as he pushes your hands away to pull his mask back on. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!" he mutters as he attempts to zip it up. You mumble curses and take over, adjust the fabric as you sit back on your heels and simply watch him. 

Dave.

Kick-Ass is Dave?! 

You swat his arm repeatedly. "You fucker!!"

"O-ow!" Dave winces as he shields himself from the blows. 

You continue to hit him, your mind unable to process anything anymore— "I can't believe you hide this from me! And that you kissed me?! You fucking perv!" you shout, with no real bite behind your words as your palm rests on his toned chest. 

Fuck. 

Dave sits back as your assaults calm down and groans. "I'm sorry."

"Bullshit," you clap back, staring at him. "You aren't sorry. You did that on purpose because I–" you cover your mouth with your hands, "I admitted I have a crush on you."

Dave grins widely, some confidence coming back as he nods his head.

"Kill me," you mutter. 

"Kiss you?" he asks. He's looking at you with his striking blue eyes, chewing on his lower lip. You look at him in his costume and now it all makes sense. Duh, Dave Lizewski is Kick-Ass! It's all in the eyes. How could you have missed them? 

"What?" 

"You just asked me to kiss you."

You pause for a moment but then you break out into laughter.

"I didn't," you say.

Dave leans away, hurt written across his features. "But you want it," he tries. "Y/n I have loved you for years. How could you not know?"

He looks completely serious. You know him. You've known him for years. You know that look behind his eyes. Your expression softens and warmth fills your chest. 

"You can't go around kissing girls without their permission," you whisper, inching forward as your eyes drift to his lip. Dave's lips. 

Dave leans in, almost entranced as he senses your movements. You've always been connected but this feels like a magnetic pull. "I don't plan on kissing any other girls, just you," he says honestly, not even trying to make a move, "but I should have asked you. I'm sorry. I should have—"

It's your turn to pull him in, crashing your lips against his. It isn't smart, kissing Kick-Ass out in the open like this but neither you nor Dave seem to care. Your lips move rhythmically with his and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. 

Dave's gloved hands tighten around your hips, pulling you in even closer as he loses himself in you. You feel so at ease as he deepens the kiss, only pulling away to catch your breath. Dave's looking at you from behind his mask, his chest heaving. 

You lean in and hug him, holding him close. "Why didn't you tell me you liked me?" you whisper.

Dave wraps his arms around your middle. "Why didn't you?" he counters. 

You grin against his shoulder. "Smartass."

Once you pull away again, Dave stands and holds out his hand. He pulls you up and looks around. Thankfully no one is around. "Let me walk you home?"

You nod and nudge his shoulder as you walk. He laughs and pushes you away a little—just like always. A comfortable silence falls upon you both and you itch to hold his hand. Instead, you ask softly. 

"You're careful, right?" You look at his costume.

It's barely audible but Dave hears you anyways. He nods. 

"Yeah. I always am."

Your hand grazes his and your chest fills with warmth. 

"Good. Can't lose you when I've only just gotten you."  

tags: @earth-elemental18, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld, @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader

[floralcyanide]

𝟑𝟎,𝟎𝟎𝟎 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭 - 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐧𝐞𝐫

jackson rippner x f!reader

Usually, airports were the bane of your existence due to your career and the constant requirement to travel. But when you stumble upon a handsome man at the airport bar, your disdain for flying seems to change.

warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, public sex, mile-high shenanigans

word count: 2780

author’s note: not proofread again lulz but when do I ever?? anyway I got a request for this and had to write it right away because I love jackson sm omg. please lmk if you enjoyed and send some feedback <3

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

You wouldn’t mind it if you didn’t have to step foot inside another airport for the rest of your life.

Unfortunately, your career requires you to travel every month, so your escape from airports will have to wait. You doubt there’s anything that will make your experiences with the liminal spaces any brighter or more profound- you doubt there’s anything that would make them even a smidge exciting. But, who knows, maybe one day you’ll eat your words. So, until then, you’ll fast-walk through airports and terminals with your carry-on with the deepest resting bitch face you can conjure up. And it appears that today will be yet another day that you muster up one.

Deciding to hit the best bar in the DFW airport during your routine TSA spiel, you weave around the other flyers in the corridors in a hurry. Even if your red eye flight has been delayed about two hours, you figure two hours in an airport could be better spent drinking. After scouring the entire airport numerous times on each trip you’ve taken from DFW, you finally settled upon a corner bar near your gate. After passing by it a few times, you decided to give it a chance. Its appearance is initially off-putting- it is dark and moody. Still, it had an oddly comfortable atmosphere and good drinks, obviously. You stroll up to the bar, smiling and nodding to the bartender you’ve come to know here. Going to sit in your usual booth, you discover there’s someone already seated there.

“If this were middle school, I’d tell you this is my spot,” you joke as you approach the man, whose face is covered by his long bangs.

A pair of sharp blue eyes glance up at you from their place on the cocktail menu in his large hands, and a sweet smile graces his lips when he looks you over, “I certainly apologize for stealing your spot. Care to join me? I can buy you a drink to make up for it.”

You give him a questioning look, half-joking with your tone, “What’s in it for me?”

“A free drink and your spot back,” the man says haughtily, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“Deal,” you reach a hand out for him to shake.

“Deal,” the man says, accepting your hand and shaking it firmly.

You slide into the booth, sizing the man up, “What’s your name?”

“Jackson,” the man says, his eyes nearly piercings into yours, “Jackson Rippner.”

“Oh,” you raise your eyebrows, suppressing a giggle, “your parents must hate you.”

Jackson laughs, shrugging, “Yeah, you could say that. But you can’t hate anyone if you’re dead.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry-”

“No need. Finished them off myself,” Jackson says, deadpanning.

You pause before laughing at his joke, “Gotcha.”

“So, what’s your drink of choice?” Jackson asks, changing the subject lightly.

“Hmm, I don’t think I’ll tell you just yet,” you let your eyes roam everywhere but Jackson’s face until you land your gaze back on him.

“You want me to guess, then?” Jackson asks, “I’m good at that, actually.”

“Oh, really? Prove it, then,” you say with a playful edge to your tone.

Jackson puckers his lips, furrowing his eyebrows in thought, “I’m thinking white liquor,” he trails off, “Maybe vodka, something fruity but not too skimpy.”

“You’re close, but not quite,” you bite your lip.

“I think you’re the type to have a classic no one considers.”

“Which is?”

“Dirty Shirley,” Jackson snaps his fingers, pointing at you confidently.

“Nope,” you say, grinning, “Just a vodka and Sprite for me.”

“Ah, but I was close.”

“Yes, you were very close,” you say, having the urge to flirt with this man you don’t even know.

“I’ll go grab that for you,” Jackson says, getting up out of the booth and heading to the bar.

While he’s gone, you rummage through your bag for a perfume roller, quickly rubbing some on your pulse points. Then, you unbutton the first two buttons of your blouse, revealing your cleavage just enough to be subtle. Turning around for a second, you see Jackson heading back to the booth, and you brush yourself off before slipping the perfume back into your bag.

“A vodka and Sprite for the pretty lady,” Jackson places your drink down in front of you before returning to his spot across from you.

“‘Pretty lady,’ huh?” you raise an eyebrow, taking the two black straws into your mouth.

“What can I say?” Jackson raises his hands in defense, “You are a pretty little thing. I’m glad I sat in your spot.”

“Oh,” you say, trying not to let your face heat up at the compliment, “Well, I’m glad too.”

The both of you silently sip your drinks after that, sharing fleeting glances while giggling. You decide to be cheeky, slipping off one of your heels and running your foot underneath Jackson’s pant leg. You nonchalantly look around the bar, chewing on your straw as if you weren’t up to anything. Jackson is staring right at you with a smirk as his eyes stare holes into your off-cast ones. 

“Feeling a little naughty, are we?” Jackson whispers, just loud enough to hear over the music.

You move your eyes toward him, “How do you mean?”

“I see,” Jackson looks down at the remainder of his second drink, “You wanna play like that, huh?”

“Play like what?” you challenge him, pushing your foot farther up his leg, now going over his pants and toward his thigh.

Jackson chuckles, about to say something, but he’s interrupted by the airport intercom. Your flight is a few minutes from boarding.

“Oh, that’s me,” you frown, downing the rest of your second vodka and Sprite before looking at Jackson, “What do I owe you?”

“For the drinks? Nothing,” Jackson licks his lips, “But for the teasing? We’ll have to see about that.”

“Oh really?” you ask, your heart rate now picking up at the obvious flirting.

“Really.”

“And what will you do about it?” you daringly ask.

“Well, we are on the same flight,” Jackson says, “So we’ll have to see.”

The two of you head over to the gate, getting in line to board. You boredly flip through a book your friend suggested for you to read on the flight. Jackson takes notice of this.

“Bookworm? Didn’t pick that up about you,” Jackson asks, rolling back and forth on his heels and toes. 

“Depends on the book,” you say, pursing your lips as you skim over the words, “Don’t think I’m a fan of this one, though.”

“That’s a shame. Any ideas of what you’re gonna do on the flight?” Jackson inquires, a flirty undertone in his question.

“Hmm,” you wonder, “Probably sleep. Unless I find something else to do.”

“Ah,” Jackson nods, “Hopefully, you will.”

“Hopefully,” you chuckle.

You and Jackson get separated during boarding, but you do a double-take when you arrive at your seat.

“Are you in the right seat?” you ask.

A familiar pair of striking eyes look up from a book to meet yours, “Did I steal your spot again?”

“No,” you shake your head, laughing, “I’m seat fifteen B.”

“And I’m fourteen B,” Jackson closes his book.

“Interesting,” you say, “Small world, huh?”

“Small indeed,” Jackson exhales, about to say something, until a lady a few rows down asks for help with her carry-on.

You move to the side, allowing Jackson to scoot by you. As he does, he puts a gentle hand on your waist, sending goosebumps up your spine. You watch as he helps the lady, and you try not to laugh when she tries flirting with him. Jackson returns to the row, moving past you again and plopping into his seat. 

“I know we talked for what, two hours? But I never asked, why are you headed to Miami? Work or play?” Jackson asks, buckling his seatbelt as the flight attendants announce preparation for take-off.

“Work, unfortunately. I take this trip often, red eye and everything,” you say, resting your head on the headrest behind you.

Jackson nods, “I’m here for work too. I hate flying, not going to lie.”

“Me too,” you grumble, “I hate everything about flying, including the airport and everything that comes with it.”

“Everything?” Jackson presses jokingly.

“Well, today was different. I actually had a nice time at the airport, especially since I got to meet you,” you say, keeping your eyes on the flight attendant as she goes over the safety precautions and flotation devices under the seats. 

“Good to know,” Jackson says, placing a hand on your knee.

You look at his hand, feeling very warm all over. The plane begins to speed up and ascend, and you relax in your seat, Jackson’s hand still on your knee. His nose is in his book as you try your best to read your friend’s book suggestion. When the plane finally reaches 30,000 feet, the seatbelt light turns off, and the lights dim. Flight attendants offer pillows and blankets, and you take a blanket, tucking your book away and covering yourself with the blanket. You’re on the verge of sleep when you feel Jackson’s hand slide up your thigh. You pretend you’re asleep, not moving or reacting to his touch. His hand is hidden by the blanket, so no one can see his hand move further up, dangerously close to your core. You’re wearing a dress, so there’s easy access. Not that you were complaining that Jackson was touching you. You were feeling him up earlier at the bar, so now it’s his turn. 

Jackson sneaks his hand back down your thigh and over your dress, slowly making his way over your hip and waist, up to your clothed breast. The blanket‘s hem was tucked behind your shoulders, covering up your entire body, so no one could see Jackson’s hand crawl underneath your dress again. This time, to squeeze at your breast. You try not to move or make a noise as Jackson takes your nipple between his fingers, pinching it lightly. Pretending as if he woke you up, you rouse and sit up straight.

“What are you doing?” you ask, acting as if you were asleep.

“I know you’ve been awake the whole time, sweetheart,” Jackson whispers.

“No, I wasn’t,” you say innocently.

“Don’t lie to me,” Jackson chastises, twisting your nipple harshly.

You bite your lip, muffling a moan. You squeeze your legs together as he continues to tweak the bud. 

“Is this what you want? Hmm? Teasing me earlier with your foot, I figured I’d play with you too.”

Jackson’s hand moves to your other breast, flicking your nipple. His other hand travels under your dress, his fingernails pressing into your skin. You bite your lip to stifle a moan from the sharp sensation on the sensitive skin of your thigh. His fingers ease to your core again, ghosting over your clit as you open your legs.

“Be quiet like a good girl,” Jackson says, eyes darting around to ensure no one is looking despite the lights being off.

You nod as he presses two fingers to your clit, rubbing slow, soft circles. Warmth gradually spreads in your lower belly at the sensation, and you widen your legs further. Jackson pulls his fingers away momentarily to slip them inside your underwear and continue his movements on your bare bundle of nerves. You cover your mouth, exhaling shakily at the stimulation. Jackson slips a finger inside you after playing with you for a while.

“Already so wet?” Jackson teases in your ear, his lips brushing against it.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath.

Jackson slowly pumps his finger in and out, eventually adding a second one. You shutter from the delightful stretch. You look around before subtly jerking your hips forward, riding his fingers.

“Fucking yourself on my fingers so good,” Jackson nibbles at your ear lobe, “Can’t imagine how you’d feel around my cock.”

You bite your knuckle to hold in a desperate whine at his words, “Please,” you whimper.

“Please, what?” Jackson asks, his fingers picking up the pace.

“Fuck me,” you whisper, “Take me to the bathroom and fuck me against the wall.”

“What a brazen little one you are,” Jackson grins, pulling his fingers from you and sucking your arousal off them, “It’s gonna take a little more than that, though.”

You groan at the loss of fullness, “Like what?”

“Beg.”

You pull Jackson’s hand back to your soaking slit, “Please touch me, fuck me, do anything you want to me. Please.”

“Keep going,” he pants, circling your clit with his fingers again.

“Jackson,” you sigh, “God, I need you inside of me. So bad,” you hiss.

“Go,” Jackson whispers, “I’ll meet you there.”

You hurry to pull down your dress, pulling the blanket off you before quietly walking to the bathroom. You check the vacancy before pulling the door open, leaving it unlocked for Jackson. You sit on the toilet, waiting patiently as your pulse thumps in your ears. A few moments pass, and the door opens slightly, revealing Jackson before he slips inside the bathroom. You stand up, but before you open your mouth to say something, he picks you up and presses you against the wall. You wrap your legs around Jackson’s waist, kissing him with a bruising force. Jackson slides his tongue through your lips and into your mouth, exploring it as his hands grip your ass. You reach a hand down and unzip and unbutton Jackson’s pants, your hand snaking past his underwear band and wrapping around his cock. 

“Fuck,” Jackson seethes, already hard from previous events in your seats earlier.

He pushes up the hem of your dress around your hips, pulling your underwear down far enough for him to slowly enter your throbbing core. Both of you gasp at the feeling, hours of pining hitting the climax. You thought Jackson was attractive the moment you laid eyes on him. You aren’t passing up the opportunity to join the mile-high club with such a gorgeous man. Jackson pushes further into you, and you relax more so he can press his hips into yours. Your fingers grasp at his hair as he pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in. Your back roughly hits the wall behind you, but it wouldn’t be the last time. You have to hold onto the wall with one hand to not bang into it, your other hand holding onto Jackson’s hair for dear life as he fucks you without mercy. 

“God,” you say, the word drawn out as you and Jackson’s hips slam into each other. 

Jackson covers your mouth as you stare into his blue eyes, now darkened with lust, “Stay quiet.”

You nod, “Mhmm,” you hum from underneath his hand.

Your eyes stay on each other as you move your body forward in time with Jackson, his cock hitting that spot inside you perfectly, sending shockwaves over you. Jackson wraps an arm around your waist, holding you steady as his other hand moves between the two of you to rub tight figure 8’s on your bundle of nerves. You squeal, eyes rolling into the back of your head as Jackson continues to fuck into you like you’re a sex object. You feel yourself clenching around him as your orgasm creeps up. You pull on Jackson’s hair harshly, causing him to moan as his hips stutter. You do it again, and he has to bite your neck in order not to moan out loud. 

“Are you gonna cum?” Jackson grunts into your ear, “Huh?”

“Yes,” you gasp, “Fuck yes, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum around my cock, pretty thing.”

Your release smacks you in the face, sending your body reeling as it nearly convulses against the lavatory wall. Jackson cums right after you as the feeling of your walls squeezing his cock sends him over the edge. You milk him for all he’s got, rutting your hips through both of your orgasms. You both catch your breath as Jackson lets your legs collapse back to the floor weakly. He holds you up as you regain your posture.

“I suddenly really like flying now,” you push your hair out of your sweaty face.

“Me too,” Jackson says with an expressionless face, which you match.

Suddenly, both of you burst out laughing but cover your mouths quickly before anyone can hear in the plane. After cleaning yourselves up, you both successfully sneak out of the bathroom and back to your seats, covering up with the blanket.

“Ever barhopped in Miami?” you ask Jackson, trying your best to hold your eyes open.

“Nope. You?’

“Nope. Want to?”

“Absolutely.”

taglist:

@baizzhu @aporiasposts @hjmalmed @queenshelby @amanda08319 @naty-1001 @orijanko @raineeace @nela-cutie @cutexlr

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve and Gareth as Cousins, no longer a warm-up and now called Lifelines, part three! I’ll throw it up on A03 when I finish the fourth part. 

Prior parts can be read here: Part One / Part Two 

First things first, the most amazing @ sereinpetrichor managed to track down the OG Twitter thread this runaway train is based off of! 

It was this thread by @gatorthots, the Tumblr version of which can be read, here.  All blame for this idea firmly rests on their brilliant, plot bunny inducing shoulders. 

The other, follow up thread I mentioned was this one by Silas, whose tumblr name I do not know. 

As always and forever, shout out to the most amazing @chalkysgarbagefire​ who helps me edit/plot/pats my head while I’m crying in their inbox bc the words aren’t wording right. 

Warnings: Steve and Robin are canon (S3) drugged. I took a slightly (kinda sorta) more realistic approach. Vomit mention, canon threat of violence/guns (the Russian guards) Mention of pantsing/past bullying, Steve and Robin’s drugged asses not understanding personal space, Dustin’s canon...Im gonna go with assholishness? but like, I think its more than he’s a young kid and doesn't quite have the emotional growth/awareness yet in this kind of insane situation to know how to react to the whole address/torture bit (really who does)/its a defense mechanism--and Gareth sort of has a panic attack. 

Whatever the hell they had been drugged with, Steve and Robin went from 'giggly happy fun time' to 'vomiting into toilet bowls while loudly wishing for death’ awfully fast. 

Gareth was not an expert on drugs. He knew Eddie wasn't either (the guy never dealt anything stronger than your average psychedelic--had some agreement with his Uncle about only selling "the 70s basics") and repeated looks towards him proved Eddie was still trying to figure out what Steve and Robin were on. 

Answers hadn't exactly been forthcoming--Eddie's gently made attempts at ferreting out information had only caused more confusion.

Like why the two of them were so freaked out about a gate, or what had made Robin gasp, and then laugh so hard she cried when Steve had made a particularly rough noise then muttered; "Even that sounds better than Tammy Thompson." 

Either way, Gareth was mostly trying to figure out what the hell they were going to do, because sobering up in a busy, public mall wasn't exactly the best idea. 

"I regret," Robin tried to say, in-between gagging. "I regret--hrk--" 

"Me too." Steve moaned, head resting against the stall wall. Gareth, still caught up in panic, had been permanently regulated to door guard while Eddie alternated between sweet talking, rubbing backs and offering quietly whispered advice. 

"Let's go back in time and ignore the whole silver cat thing." Robin continued, slumping back down onto the floor. 

"Wouldn't have mattered." Steve muttered. "Dustin would have figured it out without us. Kid’s too damn smart." 

"So?" Robin grumbled, quietly thanking Eddie as he once again brushed her hair out of her face. 

"So he would have gone down there anyway, which means I'd be down there anyway." Steve concluded. "We shouldn't have gotten you involved though." 

He shakily pushed himself up, staggering to his feet and looking like bambi on ice while doing it. 

Eddie quickly came round to offer his help, hands spread as Steve groaned out a curse and clutched his head.  

The older took a step forward right as Steve lurched back, unbalanced and shaky. 

 "Oh shit." He said, eyes wide as he crashed backwards into Eddie, the latter catching him with a grunt. 

Despite the entire situation, Gareth found himself stifling a laugh as Eddie wrapped his noodle arms around Steve's chest, trying to hold the other up without falling himself. 

"Come on big boy, why don't we just siiiit back down." Eddie said, slightly breathless as he helped guide Steve back to the floor. "There we go…"

They did so outside the bathroom stall, Eddie sinking into a kneel as Steve sort of flopped down on top of him. 

Blinked a few times, like the drop had rattled what little sense he’d managed to recover in the last few minutes. 

A pleased noise came out of his cousin's throat, and holy shit was Gareth going to have blackmail for life, because rather than vacate Eddie's lap, Steve just turned around in it. 

Reached up with one finger outstretched and proved himself to be very much still under the influence as he touched Eddie's nose.

"Boop!" He said, and then giggled as Eddie dropped onto his ass in surprise. 

Gareth watched Robin as she took the whole thing in, from Steve's snickers to Eddie's shocked expression, eyes growing wide in excitement. 

He failed entirely to cover his own amusement when Eddie abruptly found himself with two sailors invading his personal space, each taking turns to boop his nose. 

“Uh.” He managed to get out, blinking rapidly and at a loss for words. “Ah.” 

Steve caught the metalhead’s awkward, red-faced expression and proceeded to drop his head to Eddie's shoulder, muffling his laughter against the man's vest. 

The helpless look his best friend sent him was one Gareth would remember for a long time. 

“O-kay.” Eddie said, frazzled, as Steve recovered far too quickly, turning to rest his cheek against a slim shoulder as he walked two fingers up Eddie’s battle vest and towards his hair. Likewise, Robin had discovered Eddie’s wallet chain, and had begun fiddling with it. 

One finger curled around a strand of brown hair and Eddie jerked his head, removing the tempting piece away from Steve’s hands. 

“I know you’re used to getting whatever you want, your highness.” He said, his own hand smacking against his waist before Robin figured out the other end of his chain ended in a handcuff, “But you of all people should know the hair is off limits.” 

Completely undeterred, Steve just gave him a loose, easy grin. “It’s so pretty though.” He complained, fluttering his eyelashes in a blatant attempt to try and turn on the ol’ Harrington charm.  “You can touch mine if you want.” 

Yeah, Gareth’s blackmail was getting better by the second. 

He might even get a new piece for his drum kit out of it, if this kept up. 

Free weed too, considering Eddie’s blush was now fire-engine red. 

“Man,” Eddie said in a clear bid to deflect the entire situation (and Steve’s fingers) away from his hair, “the last time someone called me pretty was right before I got pantsed—-is Tommy H hiding in one of the stalls again?” 

Steve picked his head up, confusion crashing down his face. 

“Did he do that?” He asked. 

Then, with growing horror; “Do you think I’d do that?” 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that your whole little court’s M.O.?” 

Steve sucked in a breath, looking downright hurt. "I wouldn’t do that." He insisted, eyes wheeling from Eddie to Gareth and back, as though hoping Gareth would back him up. 

“I’m not--I’m not friends with Tommy anymore.” Steve continued, voice growing smaller as he spoke. “I’m not friends with anybody anymore, except maybe Dustin.” 

It sounded so defeated; trodden on and subdued that Gareth stepped forward automatically, to do--something. 

Provide the fucking comfort his cousin was oft denied and hug the guy. 

As always, it turned out to be the wrong move. 

"Oh thank god." A kid said, seconds after bulldozing through the main door and nearly bowling Gareth over in the process. "I found them!" He shouted over his shoulder as swept into the room. 

“Speak of the devil.” Steve said flatly, and even drugged, he managed to pull himself back together from distressed to stoic in mere seconds. 

The curly-haired kid--Dustin apparently--stormed right up to the pile of humans splayed on the floor, hands on his hips. "What the hell. We told you two to stay put!" 

Steve rolled his eyes as Robin booed him. 

“Have you forgotten what’s happening? Or how we’re kinda in a Red Dawn situation?” Dustin continued, looking like he’d just escaped from a summer camp. 

The kid even had a walkie talkie clutched in one hand, of all things. 

“We know.” Steve and Robin deadpanned at once, before looking at each other; Steve pointing a finger towards Robin and Robin pointing one back. 

This caused the kids to trade their own long suffering, “can you believe this shit” faces. 

"We need to go, and the only way we’re gonna get out of here unnoticed is if we blend in with the crowd." Dustin said impatiently.  “Now come on Steve, get up already, you've had worse.”

"I really don't think I have." Steve muttered, but moved to push himself to his feet anyway. 

Eddie beat him to it, and he and Gareth both hovered nearby in case Steve was still unsteady. 

Thankfully, the kids' presence seemed to sober up Robin and Steve both. 

Not actually sober, that wasn't how drugs worked, but whatever was left of the fun was sucked right out of the bathroom, replaced by two teenagers who were sort of functional on whatever they'd been drugged with. 

Stress and adrenaline, Gareth knew, could overcome a lot of things. Including Russian "truth serum" apparently. 

“Yeah well you're lucky you got found by these guys and not anyone else. " Dustin continued pointedly, before turning his attention towards Gareth and Eddie both. "Thanks for watching our friends, but we've got them from here." 

Gareth made a sort of unhinged, disbelieving noise. 

 “No, no you do not.” He declared, anxiety clawing at his gut at the mere thought of abandoning Steve to two children. 

"I don't think you heard him." The girl stepped forward, braids swinging about her face as she lifted her chin and nailed him with a cold glare. 

 As if this entire situation couldn’t possibly get weirder, Gareth suddenly realized she had a helmet in her hands and knee pads on.

 "He said we got this. So scram." She flicked her fingers out in a dismissive sort of "shoo" gesture.

"And leave my drugged cousin with his new girlfriend behind!?" Gareth challenged right back, emotions far too raw and frayed to care he was snarling at a little girl. "I don’t think so!”

"Cousin!?" Dustin bit out, sounding almost betrayed for some reason, at the same time Robin who'd been climbing to her feet with Eddie’s help, shouted; "I am not his girlfriend!" 

Steve, clearly unwilling to entertain whatever fight was brewing, clapped his hands together. 

"Yes cousin, Dustin. It's a type of family member." Steve said, after they all flinched and looked to him. He at least looked steadier on his feet this time, though Gareth still lingered nearby in case he took a wrong step. 

"I know what a cousin is, Steve!" Dustin shot back. 

“Then why are you acting like a lunatic?” Steve complained, and Gareth got to watch in real time as Steve pulled on the persona he often wore in high school down around him. “You said it yourself, we don’t have a lot of time. Worse, I don't know if anyone saw Gareth and Munson here with us.” 

He jerked a thumb sideways in Eddie’s direction, not that anyone couldn’t figure out who “Munson” was. 

“They stay with us until we’re out of this mall.” Steve finished, before he started towards the door.

One step he was Gareth’s cousin, drugged and vulnerable because of it. 

The next he stood taller, talked smoother, took charge with an aurora that said he expected everyone to listen to him. 

It was fake as hell, but it worked. 

“I know you’ve got a plan Dustin, so spill it.” He commanded as he walked.  

 Dustin, despite all the squawking, did just that. 

xXx 

Of all the things Gareth had expected to see upon escorting their little ragtag crew out of the bathroom, groups of intimidating, mean looking assholes wasn’t on the list. 

He found himself repeatedly nudging Eddie in the ribs, unable to take his eyes off what was clearly a checkpoint as he staggered to a halt. 

It was one thing to be told people were after Steve and the “Scoop’s Troop” As Robin had jokingly named them. 

It was another entirely to see the security guard directly in front of him look over a woman’s ID before apologizing to her, a sleazy grin matching his oily pony-tail as he waved her on. 

They really were looking for someone. 

Not someone, Gareth realized in dawning horror.

Them. 

Robin apparently, came to the same conclusion seconds later, because she snatched Steve and Dustin’s arms both, hauling them backwards. 

“Argue about Dustin’s address later, we need to find a different way out.” She hissed quietly as she tried to slowly reversed direction, movements still a bit sloppy. 

She might have even gotten away with it, had Sleazy Pony-Tail not turned and made eye contact with Gareth right after she spoke. 

His eyes swept over him, then to the rest of the group, freezing like a cat that had spotted its prey.

“Abort, abort!” Dustin sputtered, wheeling about on his heel. 

Erica, whose name Gareth had learned when she kicked him in the shin after he asked why an actual infant was running around with Steve and Robin, pointed towards the escalators before she beelined over to it, ducking into the center and riding it down like a slide. 

Something Eddied was downright delighted to copy. 

Gareth might have enjoyed it himself, had he not been looking over his shoulder to see not one, not two, but four security guards giving chase--and gaining. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuckikity fuck.” He heard Robin chant as she shot past, Steve planting himself at the top as he made sure everyone got down to the next level before sliding down himself. 

"Do not let them leave!" One of the guards yelled to the others, accent clear as a bell. 

"Holy shit that guy's actually Russian." Gareth found himself saying as he skidded across the floor and bolted after the others, Steve hot on his heels. 

He had kinda expected the Russian thing to be some sort of drug influenced inside joke and not an actual, honest-to-God Soviet. 

Which led to the question of why the fuck adult men in security uniforms had drugged random teenage retail workers.

Food workers.

Whatever the fuck one called a two people who scooped ice-cream in sailor costumes. 

"There's another group up ahead!" Eddie yelped, swerving sideways and nearly taking Erica out while doing it. 

Noise erupted ahead of them in the form of foreign shouting and loud, harshly barked commands to “Freeze!”  

‘Oh hell no.’ Gareth thought wildly, as he caught the form of the giant fricken gun the guard closest to him held. 

“Split up!” Dustin howled, and before anyone could comment about how bad an idea that was, Gareth found himself being yanked sideways. 

Steve swore loudly behind him as Robin, who’d crashed backwards, pulled him in the opposite direction and in a second their group broke in two. Gareth, Eddie and Dustin going one way, Steve, Robin and Erica another. 

"This isn’t happening." Gareth muttered, words made in a sort of pleading denial as he and Eddie turned the corner and immediately vaulted over the counter of an Orange Julius. “I smoked or drank or did something and this is a hallucination that is not. Actually. Happening.” 

Dustin at least, was smart enough to dive around the counter instead of over it, sliding towards them on his knees. 

Eddie quickly yanked him down to the floor in-between himself and Gareth once he was close enough to grab, one hand going over the hat to shove the kids head down. 

Annoying or not, he was at least several years younger than them, and Gareth could practically feel Eddie’s protective instinct kick in as he kept his hand on Dustin’s head. 

Together they tried to silence their breathing as the guards’ shouting continued on behind them. 

What was worse than their noises though, was when they unexpectedly and suddenly, went silent. 

Gareth’s breath felt far too loud as the stillness gained a suppressive weight, pressing down harshly against him and making it harder and harder to inhale. 

‘Panic attack.’ He realized, thoughts a touch detached. ‘You can’t afford to have a panic attack right now.’ 

Not when it had a high chance of getting them all killed. 

Slowly he moved his own free hand, placing it atop of Eddie’s, fingers gripping down in a way that was no doubt painful. 

Eddie glanced over to him and Gareth thanked every single time he’d smoked way too much weed, because his best friend immediately clocked what was wrong. 

Turned his hand over, so that Gareth could hold onto it atop Dustin’s hat. 

It didn’t help with the knowledge that his very much still drugged cousin and his equally drugged not-girlfriend were also hiding somewhere, or that there was significantly more Russians than there where terrified teenagers (and one--whatever age Erica was.)  

Flashlights cut shapes into the wall overheard, trailing along the Orange Julius menu. Quiet voices covered even quieter footsteps and Gareth had the sudden realization the probability of there being more than one guard carrying a huge gun, was very, very high. 

Worse?

This part of the mall wasn’t that big. There were only so many places to hide, and as such, only so many places to look. 

Death comes for everyone eventually, but Gareth hadn’t exactly expected it to show up before he hit twenty.

Not that they could do anything but wait. Pray to God and the universe and any other higher power he could think of to intervene, head pressed hard against the wood behind him as the small noises drew nearer.

What he hadn’t expected was for said prayers to get answered in the form of a of a fucking car being thrown into the Russian’s like bowling balls. 

“Run!” Dustin shouted, and Gareth wasted absolutely no time in doing just that. 

The only goal on his mind was to find Steve, get out, and then have a very long discussion about what the hell this all was, in that exact order. 

[chelseypprimrose]

Home Movie / Negan x Reader / S7 / 18+

Warnings: daddy kink, oral, unprotected/rough sex, slight dom!negan, talk of masturbation, Negan references himself as “the big bad wolf” (cringe but I love it), creampie, forbidden attraction, talk of voyerism, use of derogatory language, glove/leather kink (slightly)

Summary: Negan finds a smut tape of you on the video camera at Alexandria and makes it his mission to seek you out.

A/N: I got this idea in my head while I was watching the episode of season 7 where the saviours first visit Alexandria with Negan and he finds Rick’s confessional video as he’s emptying the houses out. also inspired by another Negan series called Polaroids by @reevesdriver on here as it’s one of my faves ever! 🫶🏼 I just had to write a Negan imagine in the TWD universe again bc as much as I like pre apocalypse Negan, I needed to write apocalypse Negan because there isn’t anything sexier to me than a murderous man swinging a barbed wire bat and talking about his dick, hope u enjoy 🤍 x

“Goddamn it.” You huffed out, a long breath leaving your lips as you shoved the deer that was on your shoulders further up to prevent yourself from dropping it on the ground. You’d been gone since the crack of dawn, with Daryl gone at this point in time, you were one of the best hunters that Alexandria still had. While you felt some type of way about putting in so much effort for someone else to just take the shit you’d risked your life for, you knew Rick needed people on his side at the moment. It would be foolish to try and be defiant right now, too much blood had been spilt recently and you didn’t want to be the reason it continued. Yeah, you’d played your part in the attack on the outpost but you’d all been in acceptance that it was just that outpost. That once that was cleared, you were rid of the foreboding threat that was the Saviours. How wrong you’d been in that moment, it was only the beginning.

You were now dealing with the aftermath of Negan, having to risk life and limb, bend over backwards to make him happy, the asshole. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d had to hold your tongue to stop yourself from verbally berating his people, knowing what the consequences of giving them a piece of your mind would be. You hadn’t been there when he had killed Abe and Glenn, only hearing the horrid, sordid details after the fact.

The blood from the deer that you’d managed to kill was seeping into your white tee, making your shoulders feel sticky and matting up in the tips of your hair. You signalled a high pitched whistle, waiting for the large dark beige gate to be opened, allowing you enter back into Alexandria. Your eyes found the large sign, “Alexandria Safe Zone: Mercy for the Lost. Vengeance for the Plunderers.” You scoffed, how fucking ironic. The gate began to be moved, revealing three large vans parked up just a couple feet away from the entrance, the Saviour vans. “For fuck sake.” You thought, what could that bastard want with you now, you couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous.

“Negan, you’ll want to see this.” Negan turned to look at the saviour approaching him, holding out a small silver video recorder. “Well, what do we have here Grimes? Got my fingers crossed for a little freaky deaky!” He grinned, crossing his fingers in front of Rick’s face. He slid his hand into the leather handle of the camera, a video of Rick coming into view, looking a lot more threatening than he did now. He could barely make out it was Rick, with the massive beard grown on his face he wasn’t used to seeing. “Woah! Is that you? Underneath all that man bush? Holy shit, I would have not of messed with that guy… but you aren’t that guy anymore. Are you Rick?” He grinned, Rick stood with a stern look on his face, not moving. Negan continued to watch the interview, Rick speaking candidly about the amount of people that he’d killed. The video started to go static, indicating there was a tape that had been recorded on top of the original. Negan’s eyebrows furred in confusion, before his eyes widened at what the camera had blessed his eyes with. He watched as you were stood in-front of the camera, a light pink lace open cut babydoll set on, your breast sat in the cups, nipples on show for the camera. You started posing for the camera, running your hands through your hair, holding it up Pam Anderson style. A large sexy smile on your lips, turning to do a 180 spin, your smooth backside coming into view for the camera, Negan pulling the camera closer to his face, almost not believing what he was seeing. He didn’t recognise you, maybe it had been someone that used to be in Alexandria, wasn’t a member anymore. He growled lowly, that would be just his luck, the sexiest woman he’d seen in recent history just missed by a couple weeks. He moved his attention back to the camera, now watching you spread out on the bed, playing with your nipples while starting to rub your folds underneath your panties before the camera cut out, showing Rick’s interview once again.

“Fuck! Just when it was getting good!” He cursed, snapping the cameras screen back into place. A fire now in his stomach, his jeans now contracting around his hard bulge. He couldn’t get you out his mind, he knew he’d remember if he’d come across you before, so who the hell were you?

You’d managed to get the deer half way back to your house before being stopped by one of Negan’s minions, asking what you were doing. You ignored him, just wanting to get back, the saviour hadn’t liked that, grabbing you by the waist, dragging you towards the circle of people that were gathered around one of the vans. You could hear Rick talking about some guns that he’d found, apparently Negan thought you were trying to stash items, to prevent having to hand them over to his people.

“Negan. Got a rude bitch here for you, was about to run home, sneak this thing back with her.” You slightly rolled your eyes. “How am I meant to sneak a deer back, smartass?” You questioned, not believing someone could be so stupid. The man’s face contorted into a rage fuelled look, his hand raising up to you, before he had the chance, Negan whistled. “Hey! We don’t raise a hand to a woman, you know the fucking rules.” He stepped forward, now coming into full view of you, his eyes glancing over your body, looking like a kid on Christmas. You were still here, he couldn’t believe his luck. Lucille sat on his shoulder, his one gloved hand wrapped tightly around the bottom of the wood. “Now I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Negan.” He smirked, holding his free hand out for a handshake, his large frame towering slightly over you. You were met with a slight musk, you recognised it as an old spice fragrance, masculine and powerful. You looked at it, questionable look on your face before your hand met his, engulfing you from the size of it. His rough skin a stark contrast from the softness of yours, the movement felt foreign, you shouldn’t feel this way, especially when it’s him.

You saw Rick tensing up as he watched on from the sideline, wondering what Negan was up to, showing such civilness to you. “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Y/N.” You stated, his smirk getting wider. “Sir? Oh, you my dear, are like the gift that keeps on damn giving!” He exclaimed, bewilderment sitting on the faces of those around you and yourself. What the hell did he mean by that? “Load em up, we’re leaving.” He commanded, the saviours starting to retreat back to their vans, Negan not moving from where he was stood.

A few of the Alexandrian’s moved away as well, not wanting to be in his presence for a moment longer than they were required to. “Now doll, take that damn thing off your shoulders, wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” You reluctantly agreed, placing the deer just behind you, before Negan nodded at two remaining men, them coming behind you to take your prized find. You scowled, fury raging inside your soul, you’d risked your life trying to get just one actual nice, fulfilling meal for everyone, just to have your hard work stolen off you. “I believe that’s mine.” You spat out, the fire showing from your eyes as you glared up at him. “What’s yours is now ours doll, or hasn’t Rick drilled that into you yet?” He asked, aware of the sexual innuendo of his words, his tongue rolling across his lower lip. You huffed, knowing if you talked back further, it wasn’t going to end well for you. You felt like you were tasting blood from how hard you bit down on your tongue, fists balled up.

Negan walked over slightly to the back of the last truck, the doors open, a load of stuff that you recognised from peoples homes in the compound. Picking something up, he walked back over to you, Lucille still sat on his shoulder. You saw the small video camera, not thinking much of it, not knowing there was a tape inside that you probably would have never wanted him to see. He placed it on your chest, it digging into your skin, sat just on top of your heaving breasts.

“You should be careful with such sensitive material, never know what kind of perverts going to come across it!” He joked, your eyes widening in embarrassment as you finally understood what he was talking about. You got a look of disgust rise on your face, you couldn’t believe he’d seen such an intimate piece of film. You went to grab the camera from him before he gripped tight on it, making it harder to move. “Now doll, it’s a good job I found this before any of my men did, you know that right? They would have taken this back with them and sat around in a circle jerk together, I however am returning this to you, soooo… How about a thank you, Negan?” He demanded playfully, leaning closer to your face, nose almost touching your cheek. You gulped shallowly, your hand moving over his that was holding the camera to your chest. “Thank you, Negan.” You managed to get out, the words tasting like poison to you.

He laughed, letting go of the camera, allowing you take it back with a yank. “You are more than welcome, baby. Also, in case you were wondering, you are most definitely my favourite Alexandrian now.” He winked, walking backwards before getting in the truck, holding his head out the window, giving a small wave to you as they drove out the front gates. You huffed, letting out a breath you didn’t realise you held in your throat.

It had now been a couple weeks since Negan’s last visit, he’d sent groups of his saviours in between but never actually visiting himself. You were thankful that this had been the case, you’d found yourself thinking about what could have been. You’d began to let your mind wonder to the scenario of meeting Negan in another situation, you couldn’t help but be attracted to him. He was one of the most attractive men you’d ever come across, it was just a shame he was also the most evil men you’d ever come across.

Unbeknown to you, he’d found himself thinking about you too, that fucking video. He’d managed to score some old age dvd porno films from supply runs over the years but he couldn’t even watch them to get off anymore, only thinking of your little smut tape. It wasn’t even like you’d done anything massively explicit on the tape, it shutting off before it managed to get that far but he had concluded that was probably worse. It allowed his mind to run at all the different possibilities, what did you sound like when you moaned, what would you sound like whimpering out his name as he was filling you up? What did you look like when you reached climax? All these unanswered questions racing through his mind as he got out his sexual frustration on his wives, not caring which one it was as all he pictured below him was you. Moaning out your name instead of theirs, the women not caring that much as they were only there to be used by him, no affectionate feelings connecting them to him.

You were currently in the garage, clipboard in hand, biting on the end of your pencil in anxiousness as you went over inventory. You were expecting another visit today, making you want to double check over everything to make sure there wasn’t any discrepancies in the numbers. That was the last thing you needed, especially since you were now actively trying to get plans in place to take the fight back to the Saviours. You were just finishing up when a loud knock startled you, the garage door vibrating at the motion. You put the clipboard down on the side, bending down to pull the door up.

“Well well well! If it isn’t my favourite Alexandrian. I’ve missed you, doll.” It was Negan, that signature grin on his face once again, eyes raking over your body. You felt sheepish under his wandering eyes, now knowing he’d practically seen you naked since he’d come across that video of yours. You sighed, hands resting on your hips. “What do you need, Negan?” You asked, him walking into the garage now, the door slamming back shut. The anxiety started to kick in as you were now alone with just him, as he looked over the shelves, picking up random items and studying them. “Nothing really, just wanted to see your pretty face. I just cannot stop thinking about you, doll! I wonder why that is, huh?” He laughed, you knowing what he was alluding to. He noticed how you crossed your hands over your chest, almost trying to shield yourself from him.

“Oh no no no! There’s no need for all that, I’ve seen those pretty babies already, you’ve nothing to be ashamed of, doll.” He sauntered over to you, towering over you again like last time, practically feeling the heat from his body on yours. You couldn’t take your eyes off his, the way he looked at you making you get slick. He wasn’t one to hide his true emotion, his jeans getting tighter as he imagined you as he saw in the video, putting on a little private show for him. “I’ve gotta know, what made you film something like that? You must of known someone could come across it, why take the risk?” He questioned you, hand coming to rub over his bearded chin. “In this world, there’s not much opportunity to feel sexy. I just wanted something to look back at when I felt down about myself.” You squeaked out, feeling very intimate. Here you were telling the leader of a rival camp your biggest insecurities, possibly giving him ammunition to further torment you and your people.

“Oh doll, you could be covered in damn walker guts, and I’d still think you were the sexiest thing on this damn shithole planet.” He purred, grabbing you slightly by the chin, making you smile slightly. You shook your head, pulling yourself out of his grasp. “What are you doing Negan? We can’t be thinking like this. I can’t be thinking like this. You… you are the enemy.” Your hands resting on the lapels of his leather jacket, the slight coldness of it sending shivers down your spine. You leaned dangerously close to Negan’s lips, his beard scratching the surface of your skin. “Rick would fucking kill me, he’d fucking kill me, if he knew I think about you the way I do. Think about you when I touch myself, wishing it was you.” You whispered, getting more confident in your tone, your eyes staring at his lips, then back up to his dark eyes, your lips partially open as you let out shallow breaths, anything you could to try and lower your heart rate that was pumping under your chest. The silence in the room was deafening, you started to get nervous again, like you were just waiting for him to recoil away from you and laugh at your confession, that this had all been a massive joke to humiliate you further. “Goddamn it doll, looks like great minds think alike because I’ve been doing the same damn thing since I saw that little treat on that fucking camera.” He chuckled, picking you up in one swift movement, placing you on top of the workplace bench.

“Did you think about me claiming your pussy, doll? Fucking you until you can barely remember your goddamn name? What would Ricky say if he saw you submitting yourself so easily to me, the big bad wolf?” The dark tenor of Negan’s voice caused you to whimper in half fear, half pleasure. You could tell his personality was darkening to the more intense side, the jolly joking and fucking about traits were completely absent. You didn’t feel terrified though, like you did when he committed some of the horrific atrocities in front of you, the feelings of excitement causing your hairs to stand on edge and your pussy getting wet with every word that spilled out of his mouth.

“I did, god I want you inside of me.” You confessed, as Negan’s hands ghosted over your cleavage that was exposed by your tank top, before he pulled it over your head, your breasts spilling out of your lace bra. He shoved his gloved hand into your mouth, commanding you to suck. You obliged, your hands holding his arm in place as you swirled your tongue around the two thick fingers, head bobbing up and down as you did. The leather of the glove rubbery on your tongue, causing you to moan onto his fingers.

He grinned at you, a deep grunt as he leaned over capturing your right nipple into his mouth, suckling it, swirling his tongue around and biting it with his teeth causing you to moan and pull his head against your chest as you kept sucking hard on his fingers. He did it again, giving you light bites and licks, alternating between your two erect nubs. Negan removed his fingers from your mouth with a pop, bring them down to give one final pinch to your nipples, the wetness of his one hand causing the cold air to make your nipple more sensitive.

“Get on your knees, I want to see your mouth full of my dick, doll.” Negan grinned with a wicked smile, his hands undoing his jeans, letting them fall to pool at his boots. You felt your mouth salivate, eager to take him as slid off the table onto your knees. You started to lick him, going from bottom to top slowly, teasing him like he did to you with his dirty sweet nothings in your ears, hearing his low groans. You sucked the precum from his tip and swirled your tongue under his head, and then looked up at him, making sure you held eye contact with him, opening your mouth and taking him in little by little, bobbing your head up and down. Your mouth was being stretched wide, you started to move a little faster, sucking him, licking him, taking him deeper and deeper until you felt him in your throat. He was big, causing you to gag a little as your eyes began to water, your throat starting to get a sore feeling within it as he fucked your throat at a quick pace. He gave a slight gasp and his hand took a firm hold of your head keeping you in place, as his hips bucked, making it his mission to get as far down your throat as possible.

“I need to fuck you now, doll. Get up here.” Negan pulled back to your feet, slamming you stomach down onto the table, almost ripping your jeans as he pulled them down your thighs, your moist panties now on show, one tug and the flimsy material broke in two halves, now fully exposing your slick entrance to Negan. He rubbed his dick up and down your slit eliciting a pleasurable moan from both of you, pushing his length inside and then pulling out and rubbing it down your slit again.

“Please... Negan! Please!” You whimpered out, pinching your nipples, trying to get some relief from his teasing. He smirked down at you, that dark gaze watching your every move. “Please what? I want to hear you saying you want daddy's dick. I want to hear you beg me. Come on little girl, say it.” he demanded as he rubbed his length along your wet slit. “Please daddy! I want you deep inside me, please fuck me!” He groaned and pushed himself hard inside your walls, with no hesitations. You screamed, even being sopping wet, you were too tight around his shaft. He leaned on top of you and started to kissing your neck, biting lightly. Negan felt you getting used to his girth, you started to move your hips against him, wanting friction. He started to thrust in slowly, checking for your reaction to his movements. “I'm fine, please, fuck me daddy!” You moaned out, Negan pulling almost all the way out of you and then thrusting in hard making you gasp.

“You're loving this doll, aren’t you? Yeah, you're loving having my dick inside of you. I’d love good old Rick to walk in right now, see you bent over for the big bad wolf.” he chuckled, turning you on even more. Thrusting again and again building up speed, going faster and harder, just like you had imagined he would in your dirty dreams, but so much better than your imagination. “I'm going to fuck you like the slut you are and you are going to thank me for it.” He whispered in your ear, pulling your hair with one hand and holding your hips firmly with the other as he snapped his groin into you, making your ass ripple with the powerful movements. “I want to hear you doll, thank me.” You almost rolled your eyes at the narcissistic request but your brain was too blank to comprehend it. “Thank you, thank you Negan!”

You focused on the obscene sounds of your bodies echoing around you, amplified by how small the garage was. Negan continued fucking you rough and hard, until you felt the orgasm surging inside of you, building fast and strong. When it finally hit you, you screamed with the intensity of it, your body shook with the pleasure waves, running through your core. Negan released your hair to hold your hips so he could keep fucking you. His thrusts shortened, you clenched around his length, a groan leaving his mouth, feeling him finally release just after you. Negan pulled himself out of you, watching as his cum spilled out of your hole, dripping slightly onto the concrete floor below you. He leaned on top of you, leaving small kisses on your spine, body covered in a light sheen of sweat.

“Y/N! We need you out here! Negan is on his way!” You turned to Negan, a confused look on your face, he’d snuck into the compound to fuck you and now you had to act like he wasn’t even here.

[ambrosialdesire]

hedonic

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: laios x fem!monster reader word count: 5k warnings + tags: general yandere and/or dark themes, kinda gory descriptions, cannibalistic ideas/thoughts/temptations, probably ooc laios, delusional ideas, monster reader w/ large breasts (i mean, it comes with the kind of monster she is tbh but this is the only physical descriptor of the reader), brief bodily mutilation + removal mention, breast milk consumption, accidental peeping (?), breast fixation, blood kink kinda, biting mention, all characters are 18+ synopsis: he's always been the type with an insatiable appetite when it comes to any monsters, but he promised to never ever eat any demi-humans when it comes down to it. the temptation when it comes to you has became irresistible to try and ignore. a/n: in request of 🌷 anon and my fueled want for laios, i have made my first dungeon meshi/delicious in dungeon yan fic! i decided to do it in laios pov cause i feel it'll make for an interesting perspective. not really nsfw this time around lol since i'm still new and keeping up with the anime and learning about the characters SO IM ONLY CAUGHT UP ANIME-WISE OK LOL AND THE MONSTER I'M USING FOR THE READER ARE CONSCIOUS BEASTS THAT CAN COMMUNICATE AND SHIT LIKE THAT CAUSE IT'S SO VAGUE ON THE WIKI 😭😭 also i'm making shit up as i go okay so anything food related is like entirely made-up 💀 AND YEAH I MADE IT ABOUT BREAST MILK OKAY LMFAOOO tbh i've always wanted to try a dnd-related game but literally have no where to start (ik there's baldur's gate but i am a broke full-time student lol) hope y'all enjoy and hope i can make some more of laios cause he's so 🏃‍♀️💨💨 note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

Laios made a promise to never consume a demi-human, no matter the circumstances. It made sense, they were on the cusp of something that was human but not. They could have similar features like the races they respectively belonged to, could bleed red and have had a beating heart, yet in the end, they were still a monster inside and out. Morally or ethically — whichever which belonged to which — according to Chilchuck, it was still wrong to try and consume them.

He understood that completely once it got explained and stuck into his head, but then you came into question.

When you came into Laios's party during the search for his sister, you were almost attacked from how you meekly approached the small group in one of the dungeon’s levels. They were right to be cautious of course, many human-like monsters had previously attacked them when their guard was down, but once they realized you genuinely meant no harm, they let you join in. Marcille was overjoyed that another girl had joined the party, though both Laios and Chilchuck had their valid doubts about you. Senshi didn't really mind, long as you could pull your own weight and never tried to attack them.

Were you trying to play the long game? Did it make them taste better when you waited to strike? Were you eyeing your pick in the group? Senshi and him both have a lot of meat on their person, Chilchuck was definitely the least desirable since he was so small and had less meat on his body; to be honest, Marcille was in a similar boat as him too.

Food-wise, you ate whatever Senshi made with a happy smile, not even being deterred once from having to eat something that was considered to be closely related to you. He wondered if it was something you were used to, something that you had to be doing in order to survive down here. Then, if it came to other parties that came before them and being forced to defend yourself, did you ever had to... consume them?

Laios hoped it never had to occur, but he couldn't blame you if you had no other choice. He could imagine you being trapped for days before your kind could get to you, maybe one or two bodies from an adventuring party were with you from a previous scuffle and the pangs of hunger were getting to you. The thought of the remaining party members finding the torn apart limbs and strewn, chewed on bones surrounding a bloody starving monster made his stomach flip and a shiver go down his spine. Maybe it's because that's how he last remembered Falin right before she teleported them out of the dungeon, her midst of her body trapped in the toothy maw of that Red Dragon.

Because of this now since your alliance with them combined with the many questions in his head about your diet, there was one that he can't quite get rid of, no matter how much he tried.

What did a human taste like to a monster?

It's been a few weeks since they've ventured in the dungeon and Laios still had some doubts with your intentions for joining. A monster is a monster and cannot be trusted no matter what, but you didn't cause trouble or held them back from their search so he let you be... for now at least. He'd be a hypocrite for not letting you stay since he's been keeping Kensuke around, but it's only temporary and it can't really harm him without the other parts of the Living Armor. You're a moving... person? Half of one. Actually more a third-fourth of one? He doesn't quite know but still rather fascinated by your existence.

You were similar to them in conscious thought and speech, as well as appearance-wise. Well, appearance-wise, you definitely weren't human. Small, bilateral curved horns made their home on the sides of your head, floppy brown ears swung around with every step you took, a long bovine tail whipped around the bottom of your legs, and finally, your legs were curved into two thick cow-like stumps with hooves at the end as a replacement of feet. Minotaur, or that's what you said what you were, though you were smaller than those massive farm animal adjacent beasts, about a few inches taller than Marcille.

And not to sound like a perv or anything remotely similar to that, but you didn't really have udders either, unless your more than well-endowed breasts compensated for the lack thereof.

"Ow! Laios!" He snapped out of his thoughts, looking down at his metal shoe and seeing the fluffy end of your tail on the bottom of it.

"Oh, sorry." Slowly, he lifted his foot off of it, the appendage whipping around and twitching. It wrapped around your waist, almost completely hidden as a fuzzy brown and white belt.

"It's bad to get distracted here, are you hungry? Thirsty? I have some bread and milk in the pack if you want to snack on it." As you walked on forwards, you pulled the bag off of your shoulders and began to rummage through it with one hand. You finally found what you were looking for, handing it over to him without hesitation, slinging your bag back where it belonged. He stared at the milk as he chewed on the bread, the texture soft and light with each bite.

Did... did this come from you? You mentioned to them before in the beginning stages of joining that they can drink your milk if they needed to, but the horrified looks of both the elven mage and the Half-foot locksmith prevented you from trying any further. Both him and Senshi was of course curious, Minotaur milk was both difficult to come across and retrieve, but the two told the dwarf that they absolutely refused to eat anything that he cooked if it came from your body.

"Gross, don't tell me that came from you Y/N." Chilchuck grimaced as he walked on by and you shook your head.

"No! Of course not. I know you people humans are a little weird but I wouldn't give something that came from me without telling you. It's just cow milk, er... not from me." Laios felt a little disappointed as he opened the top of the bottle, wondering if it tasted different from normal cow's milk. According to the Dungeon Gourmet Guide, Minotaur milk was thicker and sweeter compared to the average cattle's; then again, this precious book of his wasn't really that accurate unfortunately.

What about your flesh?

He came to a sudden standstill, almost causing Marcille to bump into him.

"If you're gonna stop out of nowhere, at least move to the side Laios!" She grumbled, moving past him as he stood there in confusion. What was he thinking? Why would he even go so far as to think that? He started moving again, carefully watching you click on forwards. His mind began to wander at the thought again, which parts of you would be edible?

Your legs definitely, there's so much muscle built upon you there. He'd seen you strike down stone pillars and enemies in a single blow without even flinching. Maybe even your thin tail, could be tough and stringy though. Your ears would take a while to feast upon, cartilaginous but still a good source of protein. Horns are a no-go, too small and were most likely hollower than meaty. Cow hooves are a delicacy in some parts of the world, so it was possible that yours were consumable too.

Would the "human" parts of you count? You hadn't revealed if you were full or half-monster, maybe even if you were cursed, so it was hard to truly determine what you were. If you were a full monster, that meant that every bit and piece of you was edible meat.

Meat.

Meat.

Meat.

"Laios, you’re drooling! I can hear your stomach rumbling too," Your giggling voice rang clearly in his mind, his gaze snapping downwards as he wiped his mouth quickly. "I have more bread if you want."

"No, no. It's better if we stop now and make something more nutritionally beneficial to continue forwards," Senshi stopped with the two of you, turning his head around to find a suitable room for cooking. "Think I still have some of those Harpy eggs and Kelpie flesh, would you two be so kind to try and find some more ingredients on this floor? Any vegetation would do this meal some good."

And here the two of you were, walking around the floor's grounds to spot for anything of use. It was almost completely quiet minus the shifting of his armor and the clicks of your hooves echoing throughout the stone hallway, reducing that awkward silence just a little. Your weapon, a sharpened scythe, swung around on your back as if you were a cow grim reaper; the thought of a cow dressed up in a black robe with a menacing skull mask made him chuckle in his head a little.

"Oh! Up ahead, I see something leafy." The hoof-clicking went faster as you picked up your pace, ducking your head from the fallen wooden structures that were in the way. Compared to the average Minotaur, you moved and reacted quicker, most likely because of your smaller stature and having a little less muscle in your body to heave around. That could make you vulnerable on the other hand, having less muscle everywhere else minus your legs meant diminished strength and being unable to defeat enemies in a more timely manner. Interesting.

"Laios, do you think this enough for all five of us?" You shuffled out of the crevice in a huff with bundles of thick purple, triangular leaves in your arms and he took a pinch from one of the leaves, inspecting it before placing it in his mouth. He winced, his face contorting to a pucker as you laughed at his expression. Dungeon oxalis, edible but strongly tasted similarly to citrus.

"We could work with it, could make up for lemons since they're pretty sour. Here, place it in your bag and we can search for other things." You nodded after wiping your eyes from your boisterous laughter, following his instructions and getting back up from the ground.

You dusted yourself off before picking the bag back up, smiling at him as the two of you began to move deeper into the dungeon. "I hope we find some Night Lucernes but I think since we're already so low underground, it's getting more unlikely they can grow here."

"Oh we can't eat those, they make us sluggish and gives us stomach cramps for weeks."

Blinking at him, you tilted your head in confusion. He never noticed how long your eyelashes were, is that common in your kind? "Really? They're like vitamins for me or was it something about the blood—"

"Why are you not like the other Minotaurs?"

"Huh?" The question was out of the blue, interrupting her talking as the two of you had stopped in the middle of the hallway, eyes locked with one another.

"Why are you not like the other Minotaurs?" Laios repeated, not skipping a beat and leaning down closer to you. "You're not massively built, you don't have a cow's head, you don't have large horns. You don't strictly eat vegetation, is it even good for you to eat monster meat so often? There's so very few things that are Minotaur-like on you, are you really one of their kind?"

Your eyelids fluttered in shock, each question wrapping around your brain before you leaned away from him, scratching the back of your neck. "Well... I-I don't really know why myself."

"...What?"

"Uh yeah. One day, when I was still young, I woke up in this dungeon alone without a single memory in my mind. I don't even remember who named me either, but I vaguely remember being told that I'm a Minotaur. Maybe it's the Mad Mage's fault but I'm sorry Laios, I really can't explain why I'm not more like them."

Did that even satisfy his question on whether you were edible as a Minotaur or not?

"I do know is that I am a monster," You put a hand over where your heart is, clenching it tightly into a fist. "I ain't like you people humans and I'm sure not like those other animal humans you coexist with, so I am nothing but a monster. I may look a little different from my kind but inside and out, I have the Minotaur’s blood in me. And the strictly herbivore thing isn't really true, I can eat meat if I have no other choice to, it's not all that bad though. Doesn't really freak me out and I'm always grateful to have the opportunity to eat a good meal."

"So have you eaten other adventurers before meeting us? I won't judge, I'm genuinely curious and I won't tell the others if you have."

You froze, eyes casting downwards suddenly as your fists gripped onto the coat you wore. "I... I don't really want to talk about it Laios, sorry. I'll answer your other questions but some things are better left off unsaid, okay? Please respect that."

His lips were pulled into a thin line, the nagging voice in his head still ever curious on whether you've eaten human before, but you really did seem uncomfortable talking about the topic. "Sorry."

He then put a hand under his chin, thinking about what you've said previously slowly. Inside and out... Does that mean you are edible? I mean, you basically said it yourself, despite you being more on the human-appearance spectrum of monsters. Then again, they met more human-like monsters like the Harpies and the Dryads, and they've eaten them before! (Well... sorta.) The mermen were edible too (despite Chilchuck stopping him from taking more of the parts), so that means—

"Can I drink your milk then?"

"Wha— H-huh?!" The apples of your cheeks glowed a dark shade of red, but his gaze remained determined, sparkling in excitement even.

"You offered it before, didn't you? Chilchuck and Marcille aren't here so they won't judge us and I've been curious since my book said that it's different from normal cow's milk." You looked around, even peeking behind him, before sighing and bashfully pouting.

"I did! I know I did! But, I have to make it fresh since I threw out the ones I had on hand a week ago and I don't have any on my person right now so..."

"It's okay, I can wait." He bluntly replied, oblivious to your wording. Laios just wanted a little taste, nothing more and nothing less.

You mumbled something under your breath, his ears catching a few words of him being 'too eager' and 'quick to answer'. Was he? He was just answering your question honestly, and he’s been ever so curious about it ever since you’ve offered it before.

"Let me find a room, just wait outside for a bit."

You were flushed, clicking away to find a place to hide out so you could produce what he wanted. Of course he followed shortly after you left, staying outside just like you told him to and it would serve as extra security. If Minotaur milk tasted as good as they say, he might just keep asking you for it when some certain party members aren't nearby. Hell, he might even be able to sneak some to Senshi since he's been curious about it too! It's only right to share a magnificent discovery to the best monster chef. Actually, he might be the only monster chef he knew but he was still the best by default.

He waited.

And waited.

And waited…

Laios started to sit down next to the door due to how long you were taking to produce a small bottle. Was it difficult to get milk out of the body by yourself? He had to ask about that too since he’s only seen male Minotaurs depicted in his book; there was nothing but a small and vague paragraph that explained about the female Minotaurs, but it was mostly about their milk.

He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the stone wall. You really were a strange individual, someone that he can’t quite understand. Your very being makes his mouth salivate whenever he thinks about you as a next meal, even if it shouldn’t. Was it because all they’ve been eating has been monster-related? His strange fixation on trying them was slowly being satiated with every step down the dungeon, so he chalked it up to just being morbidly curious.

It has to be that reason, it must be, because what kind of sick individual constantly thinks about consuming his friend?

Opening back his eyes, he took another quick glance at the wooden door. Laios was extremely curious on how the whole process worked, if you really had extra udders or if the hidden parts of your body were furry or skin. Plus, you really were taking a long time, one of the three were bound to come over soon and he wouldn't be able to try the milk! Actually... you know what? What if you had gotten attacked in there by a whole group of Mimics?! Or any other monster group, like the ghosts! You were strong but you can’t take all of them at once, and monsters aren't able to revive here. Wait...

Monsters don’t revive here.

He scrambled up on his feet at the realization, quickly knocking on the door, the sound of stumbling and thuds causing him to immediately panic and start pushing it open.

"Are you oka—" Laios froze, his eyes widening.

Your eyes were wide open as well, mouth partially parted open in dumbfounded shock. At least you looked okay and it seemed there wasn't any harmful enemies around, just some old furniture that had fallen over. It's weird though. There you sat on the ground in the midst of the mess, one arm covering your bare chest while the other was holding a partially filled glass. He stood there in puzzlement as your face grew redder by the second, placing the glass down slowly before reaching for your weapon that was right next to you.

Oh.

Oh...

OH!

"LAIOS!!!"

"I'M SO SORRY!!!" He slammed the door back shut as the scythe made its way towards his head, the sharp blade slicing through the old wood, the tip just barely missing his nose. His heart pounded against the metal chest plate like a beating drum, his lungs completely drained of all air. He began to kneel on the ground for some support since his legs started to give out from the revelation. His body was burning up, like he just got lit on fire from the Red Dragon or was a little too close to one of Marcille's explosion spells.

He just saw you naked. Not completely, but still, he just saw your breasts. He was used to and never cared about seeing others nude or topless, whether they be male or female — monster or not — it's just parts but seeing you?

Despite being here for most of your life, the skin from what he saw was quite smooth and rather mostly unblemished. It's like scars weren't able to attach onto the surface, as if they weren't allowed to. And the curvature of your heavy breasts, the noticeable suppleness of both when you moved and inadvertently squeezed them with your arm. They weren't udders at all either like he thought they were, they were undeniably humanlike, no fur included. He imagined biting into them, wondering if it'll be easy to sink his teeth into the squishy fat while he sucked on both the spilling blood and milk, thinking about the mix of sweetness and tangy that'll occur if he did. He'd be especially lucky to leave any mark on your pristine skin during the process, his body tingling at the idea of being the only one — the only human — to permanently leave something behind.

Laios couldn't stop salivating, a hand over his mouth to prevent him from drooling all over himself. He's shaking, why was he shaking? Was it from the fear of these unstoppable thoughts of his? Because of the leaf he ate not a moment ago? No. It's because of these recent developments and the answers he was getting from them, he was becoming... excited.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

The door finally creaked open, a small glass bottle being pushed towards him from the barely ajar entrance. He looked up to where your head would be, your eyes nervously staring down to the side. You started to apologize in a soft mumble as you slowly revealed yourself, now completely dressed.

"Sorry for throwing my weapon at you earlier, but this is all I can give right now. If I had eaten Night Lucernes prior, it would've been better quality. Um... enjoy I guess?"

"Thank you for the drink." Laios smiled and took the bottle in his hands, staring at the liquid. It was warm, which was expected since it just came out of your body, and it wasn't fully white like he thought it would be, the color just had the faintest tinge of yellow that could be missed if he wasn't looking close enough. He took the glass's edge to his lips and finally, he took a small swig of it.

Sweet, precisely as he thought it would be, but not as overtly strong to make him sick or give him an immediate cavity. The book was right to say that it was thick, almost similar to a honey-like consistency but still light enough to not choke at the heavy feeling of it go down his throat. He didn't realize that he quickly drank all of it at once, his tongue running across his lips to catch any remaining liquid left. You said that this wasn't the best quality, but he couldn't imagine it being any better than what he just drank.

"That was..." Laios paused, smacking his lips to try and remember the taste once more. Your face slightly fell, eyebrows worriedly scrunching together. "Amazing!"

"R-really?" The slightly-afraid look melted off in relief, your eyes glowing in happiness. "No one ever said that it tasted amazing before... Actually, no one actually tried it before except you Laios."

He... he was the first one that tried your milk? The fleeting thoughts he had prior ran through his mind again, his cheeks flushing a slight pink. If he really was the first one that drank something of yours... then it's only right that it would be specially reserved for him right? It's really selfish of him to keep this amazing beverage from his dear party, but something like this should be cherished by the one that adores you the most.

He quickly grabbed your hands, holding them up as he squeezed them tightly in excitement. "Can I have more later? I won't tell our party, it'll be our little secret exchange between the two of us."

Laios watched your expression turned from complete shock to shy awe, your tail twitching around and thumping against your legs. You were silent for a bit before looking up at him, a determined glint in your eyes. "W-what's in it for me? I can't just be the only one giving you something.

Shit. That was fair of you to bring up but him as a normal Tall-man, there was very little he could give you in return for your breast milk. "What would you want from me anyway?"

His mind immediately went into the gutter: you wanted to eat something off of him. It could be considered a fair exchange, consumable body part for consumable bodily fluid. Maybe you were getting tired of eating monsters, needing your actual nutrition from people. He started to get nervous, what would he be able to give you from his body? Would a finger satiate you or would you need something larger? Laios can't really give up his arms or legs, he'd need them in order to get through the dungeon and save Falin. Tongue was completely out of the question, he can't imagine not being able to taste food in both normal and monster dishes.

The idea of giving you his dick to consume suddenly popped up in his mind, the thought of trying to cut it off caused him to pale. He didn't use it much compared to his other body parts, only needing it to use to take a leak; he wasn't really the sexually active type either, being able to count the partners he previously had on only one hand. Technically and hesitantly, that would be the only large body part that he can give up for you.

Briefly, he imagined how'd you eat it. You weren't an messy eater when it came to Senshi's food — despite having to learn how to use utensils but still preferring to make use of your hands — so you'd probably be as neat as possible with it. You'd eat it raw, as soon as he managed to slice it off his person, warm crimson slipping down your fingers as you bite down through the layers of skin and muscle.

Or there was the possibility that you wanted to take it off yourself, kneeling right down in-between his legs, hands slowly sliding up his thighs to his hips as you approached his lower half. He'd be forced to watch you take his soft cock into your mouth, probably struggling if he accidentally got hard during the process. The last thing that Laios would feel would be your mouth's warmth wrapping around it before chomping down.

A shiver went down his spine, though it didn't feel as horrid as it was supposed to be.

With your big lashed eyes, you slowly blinked once more as a small smile grew on your lips. "Knowledge. I want to learn about the outside world. I've never left the dungeon before, all the adventurers that came before your party prevented me from ever trying."

Oh... That's actually not a bad exchange request, simple in nature. At least he gets to keep his junk, despite his heart still pounding from what his fucked-up mind just mustered up.

"Okay deal. I'll teach you about my world in exchange for milk." He put out his hand, letting you reach out and shake it. Your eyes relaxed as you smiled warmly up at him, finally letting him go. Laios then went over and patted your head, rubbing the top gently. You stiffened lightly at the gesture, his fingers brushing over the horns. They were smooth with faint ring-like indentations, almost an ivory-creamy color. Truly a fascinating feeling.

"There you guys are! You've been gone for so long that we were starting to get worried." Marcille. You batted his hand off of your head quickly, turned around with a tautly-pulled grin towards the elven girl.

"Must've lost track of time finding what Senshi wanted, sorry about the wait. You guys must be starving by now." The two of you started to chat walking back to the temporary camp, Laios watching and following from behind. You pulled out the oxalis in your bag to show her, a proud expression beaming off your face as you brought up his face when he first tried it. His stomach twisted, his hand resting on the top of his armor-covered abdomen.

There were very few monsters he found cute, most being out-of-this-world frightening to gaze upon, but you truly were one of the cuter ones around. He felt hungry again as your hips swayed from side to side, tail flicking around. He brushed the fingers that he touched your horns with against his lips, reminiscing on the texture. How sensitive were they? You did go rigid when he brushed against them, but it could be just from the shock.

Saliva was building up in his mouth again, and he could only harshly swallow back the feeling.

Deplorable he was with this appetite, the desire to consume you piece by piece. Would you accept that as one of your final fates? Rather than being killed and left behind with little to no chance of being revived, he'd pick up every raw part of you and eat it, savoring each bite in respect for what you've sacrificed to help him find his sister. Laios would try to bring the inedible bits of you with him — bones, teeth, horns, nails, hooves, hair — for the rest of this dungeon's journey and back into his world. Your wish would be granted, despite not being able to fully witness it yourself; you might even thank him for that bit of kindness too.

This thing the two of you had was special, unbeknownst to the others. A friendship that couldn't be understood by the other members of the party, but was completely comprehensible to only you and him. Symbiotic, just almost mutualistic. A love of one's flesh in exchange for the love of another's world.

Love.

Though Laios has expressed his heavy interest and passion in monsters, he never had said he loved them. Most were mindlessly dangerous, no matter how small or large they were, acting on base instinct. Yet, you were different. In fact, he could say that you were the opposite of him. Instead of being grouped together with your fellow monster-kind, you were more interested in being around outsiders. Different sides of the same golden coin.

A realization hit him, his eyes widening. The strange feelings in his body, the perverse, obsessive fantasies he's been having about you... It could only mean that he—

"Jeez Laios, you've been spacing out all day. Are you okay?"

He snapped out of it, staring at the concerned looks of both you and Marcille. Laios only smiled, his golden eyes focused completely on your form. Both your ear and tail tip was twitching, flicking in the air as if a fly was nearby.

"I'm just hungry, that's all."

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ “Stacey’s Mom has got it going on” — Gojo Satoru

Synopsis: You can’t help eyeing your daughter’s pretty boyfriend when he’s just so sweet, and he can’t help himself either when you’re the best he would ever find.

— word count: 4.2k

— A/n: idk if this qualifies as dc (I don’t think so) but it has like, idk age gap and cheating concepts so take care

— warnings: smut!! MDNI!! Age gap (Gojo is 20 and you’re bordering late 30s); cheating; sort of asshole representative? But how else would something like this work; hair pulling; body worshipping; oral (f! Receiving); dub-con (slightly?); Satoru is a shit boyfriend to your daughter; hinted domestic abuse; mentions of scars; almost subby! Satoru? (There’s no definite concept of who’s dominant- and if satoru then a lot of soft dom); slight spitting; riding; simultaneous orgasm

21-7, Shinjuku 3-chome, Shinjyuku, Tokyo.

He had the address memorised, down to the number of windows in your house and the exact shade of the monotonous white your husband had deemed “minimalist”.

19 he was now, you stood at an elegant 37—arriving in the vicinity at an estimated 5 years ago, your husband’s property, he’d guessed.

Gojo Satoru was 14 when he first saw you, puberty making its way into the young boy’s mind—you did none but encourage the certain downfall in the way you tapped his cheek when he offered to help you in carrying the many bags.

Over the years, Satoru saw you a lot, and also, didn’t at all.

Satoru saw you in the afternoon haze, dealing with the heat—staring obnoxiously when you took off your floral shirts, standing in front of him in those tight leggings and tank tops—but he also saw you at times that you didn’t know about.

And when he didn’t see you physically, you were present on his mind.

At least up until his 18th birthday, you knew of his presence when he would come to meet you.

What had begun as an innocent tap on his cheek for being adorable had developed into an innocent friendship on your accords, smiling wide every few months when he would zoom past your house on his cycle.

The routine was simple then, left-right-right-left, 15 minutes of a way from his house, and there he would be, at your gate—somehow always when you had grocery to carry.

The routine was simple now too, 11 p.m. he would sneak out of his dorm room, a smirk on his face as he used his infinity—making his way into your house, all so quietly, to watch your pretty face as you slept—sometimes even snickering when he caught you being fucked by your husband, snickering at that bored expression on your face, knowing just how much better he could treat you.

He’d never been inside however, general courtesy to be shown, not as a kid—never yet as an adult.

Back then you’d giggled when a 17 year old Gojo had brought his shy friend to meet you, both their cycles parked outside your house as you tended to their boyish smirks, he doubted you’d giggle knowing that the same friend, Geto, was the one he sent your pictures to when he found you sleeping.

But Satoru wasn’t dumb, he knew you’d realise at some point and so, he did what he had to.

In his head, it was all your fault too, so oblivious to everything that he had to choose the second best, your daughter.

“I know she’s like hot and what not but you gotta let her go dude,” Suguru’s voice was a drag—partially dry from all the alcohol he’d consumed.

Satoru’s 20th birthday was approaching, a week left, the celebrations of course had to last a month.

Satoru chuckled beside his best friend—almost wasted he noted—“it’s not like I wanna fuck her or something,” he grinned, he knew wanted to, he knew he possibly couldn’t, “it’s just, I could treat her so much better you know? That stupid little house-”

Suguru smirked, “-don’t bring money into it you pervert,” his eyes bore into his best friend’s, “her daughter ain’t that bad ya know,”

Satoru snorted at that, “which is exactly why I went for her too,”

Just at that, Geto snorted too—mindlessly, shamelessly, both of them.

-ring!!

Slow, both their eyes panned onto Satoru’s phone, ‘my love’ the screen flashed, Suguru snorted again, “Ironic,”

With a roll of his eyes and a short smirk, he shook his head—knowing she’d only be calling because she was needy, at least that’s all he remembered her to be.

“Mmhmm baby, gonna drop by in half an hour yeah? Yeah, yeah, miss you too, bye,”

He always sounded sweet- that was what your daughter rambled about, Satoru Gojo was the sweetest guy ever, and you were glad mostly, a little jealous? You weren’t sure.

It just wasn’t something you ever had.

As Satoru got up to leave though—“you ever let your girl go though, hit me up alright?”

Satoru eyed his best friend with a grin- that was something he could do—“have our own fucked up family eh?”

“Satoru?” You smiled, “long time honey,”

‘For you’, he thought, smiling smugly, “I keep you in well wishes all the time so, not so much Ma’am,”

You chuckled at his words—ever the gentleman he’d been, “that’s adorable, is that how you charmed my daughter too?”

His heart ached at that—only a little however, no, it was all only for you, all the charm—all for his only woman.

Thoughts flashed onto his own girlfriend, he remembered the night well—it wasn’t much, her 16th birthday, he’d just turned 17 too— he’d dropped by, getting you those medicines you’d requested a week or so ago—they were only found near his vicinity, he could only oblige.

Curiosity often killed ended up killing the cat.

-

He’d racked his brain, he thought of it for endless nights—he didn’t want to accept it, not so easily, not when you made it seem simple.

Each of what you’d asked him to get was a pain killer.

He’d disliked your husband before, but since after, he was sure he hated him.

That night, he’d sat outside your house with your daughter, she was smoking—he was used to it, he hated the smell.

“Aren’t you too young to be smoking?” He’d teased, exactly how he used to Suguru and Shoko—except she didn’t entertain the jokes, never had, never would.

However, before a mean retort could fall off of her lips, a crash sounded all too loud.

Not accidental, Satoru knew that.

He was quick to get up, he was no hero, but his life be sworn if he let you suffer such—a hand held him back.

“Don’t get into it,” she warned, your daughter did.

He didn’t, it wasn’t his place to.

Your husband cheated that night, as he had countlessly, your daughter found her first boyfriend—you wept that night, Satoru’s heart did too.

-

“Can’t lie I keep a special bank reserved for my uh…mature ladies,” a wink he passed, he made you feel young, alive.

A shake of a head you passed and a knowing laugh.

You noted his lingering gaze, the bruise on your forearm ever present, never you said a word- never him.

The silence engulfing and nauseating.

“Your uh,” his words were rough, “anniversary yeah? Round the corner isn’t it?”

You giggled, almost as if it mattered, “So he remembers? And your own, isn’t it?” A look of slight confusion masked your face, he grinned, “a week after yours, it’s my birthday though, on the same day that is, you always mess it up,”

An apologetic smile you passed this time around, “why, I’m sorry, let me make up by baking you a pie honey?”

A thin smile adorned his face—shaking his head, he ushered you back in, waiting patiently for your daughter to bounce back, to remind him of his reality.

But just as you did turn, “wait, by the way,” his eyes lay stuck upon the bruises you didn’t care to hide, “how’re things going?”

His eyes gazed upon the sheer material of your shirt, “how’s…Mr Y/l/n?”

Almost a sneer, as if, you stared, “perfectly fine, Toru—how’re things with Y/d/n?”

He stared blankly this time around—“perfectly fine Ma’am.”

-

“Pass me the lighter,”

Satoru stared at his best friend’s outstretched hands—your daughter’s pretty smile as she handed him hers—the same smile that had intrigued Satoru to even look at her, the only feature on her face that resembled you.

“What are your plans for the anniversary?” The words registered in Satoru’s ears—he wasn’t sure who the speaker was, he didn’t exactly care, “I could help around your house,” a mutter, as if unsure to why—but certain that he wanted to.

Cocked brows looked at him confused, “…isn’t it your 20th birthday though?”

He nodded.

“Who wastes their 20th birthday helping around random houses?” Suguru’s tone was almost annoyed, as if he knew—or could’ve guessed why.

Satoru’s girlfriend laughed, “You know he’s screwed a little right? Can’t stop him if he doesn’t want to,”

Satoru nodded again—it gutted him onto how well she bothered to know him—and yet, he perhaps didn’t even bother knowing her favourites most of the time.

“No no,” head shaking, a grimace fell onto Suguru’s face, “pretty boy here can do whatever he wants,” a knowing look they both passed—“but 20s don’t happen again, go big or go home,”

Satoru chuckled, of course he had it all planned out, “I’m going big and going home,”

Another charming smile, another wink—just something you couldn’t become a fool too.

A slight frown rested on your lips, “You sure hon? You don’t have to waste your evening like this…”

It was almost motherly, the way you showed concern—in ways Satoru had barely experienced.

He scoffed, “Time well spent is never wasted,”

“You’re going to mow a lawn baby,” you chuckled, “y/d/n isn’t home either- you know her sleepover- I don’t see how-”

“-anything to please and help you is almost the best kind of work I could do,” you’d have smiled usually, at his words—a tiny flirt you always deemed him—laughing about it to your husband, even though he barely cared.

You didn’t care of it either, an empty marriage, so be it—hollowed from both ends, slow.

But this time, this was different.

This time you’d perhaps bask in his help—no husband to taunt by complimenting little Satoru, no daughter to tease by complimenting little Satoru.

Satoru wasn’t all so little, you realised—your daughter and husband weren’t home—just you, Satoru and his praises.

-

6 p.m. — 7 p.m. — 8 p.m.

Satoru didn’t remember a time to the when he’d done all so much work for his own mother- but he was content, with a pair of earphones and a creative little mind, he was intent to impress you.

It amused him, to actually how big of a lawn you actually did have—and he wondered at the almost pristine look of it if you managed it yourself.

Even if you did, he would be your helping hand now—he grinned ear to ear as he thought the countless many scenarios.

‘Desperate’ , a little voice in his head called—“my pretty good boy” your voice, the one you used in his thoughts, fought away all doubts.

But all to quick his train of thoughts paused, “you missed a spot there Toru’”

And most of the time, he’d be pissed on to anyone who dared to correct him—with you he’d nod obediently and carry on—but normally, even your normally, you didn’t step out in front of him in just a small, pretty pink towel wrapped around you.

Satoru Gojo had pretty eyes, a decent imagination too—he’d thought about you plenty of times.

Naked, spread open, on your knees, having him between your knees—many and every and any position but absolutely nothing could’ve compared to the way seeing you covered just enough—in a small towel got him hard.

Satoru Gojo had pretty eyes and for a second they were wide as saucers.

His eyes panned onto the spot you pointed at—he had indeed missed a spot—he nodded slowly.

The music rang in his ears—

Stacy's mom has got it goin' on

Stacy's mom has got it goin' on

Ironic.

“I’ll get to it, going for a bath?”

It shouldn’t have been that casual—him asking you your schedule such—you let it be so.

“It’s getting late, want to stay the night? And yeah—yeah, a bath,”

Stay the night.

There the offer lay and his temptation—he watched the careless way you held the towel, all so small that decency was the only thing that stopped him from staring shamelessly at your exposed thigh.

“I don’t know-”

An attempt, simply a stupid attempt to save him and you—“-I insist and what song is that?”

He stared blankly, “Stacey’s mom,”

“How I love that song,”

Of course you did- he watched you walk away as the song continued playing.

Stacy, do you remember when I mowed your lawn?

Your mom came out with just a towel on

I could tell she liked me from the way she stared

And the way she said

"You missed a spot over there"

Down the drain, his character, perhaps yours—then relationships you’d held, everything.

Another nod.

-

“I’m staying the night Suguru,”

“Hah?!”

An eye roll, an obnoxiously pitched questionnaire, “The fuck? It’s your damn birthday tomorrow—why did you make me get that damn cake?”

Jaw clenched, he stared at the recently mowed lawn—10:00 p.m.

It was too late.

“Better get a taste of her damn pussy if you’re staying the night fucker,”

Satoru shook his head, a smile, “Shut up, talk about her nicely,”

“I’ll talk to her nicely when your girlfriend talks to me nicely when I’m dicking her down, really got yourself a brat huh?”

The smirk was evident in his tone- Satoru wanted to feel betrayed, he couldn’t.

“You’re such a bloody fucker,” he muttered through, “Take care of her,”

“Always have—you take care of her damn mom,”

And he always had too.

-

10:15 p.m.

He found it simply, weird, that you were in the shower all so long—shaving?

It was your anniversary tomorrow, a loyal wife, a good wife—you’d present yourself well—he thought.

He wasn’t entirely wrong either, was he?

Foggy, your bathroom mirrors stood as you prepared yourself just right, shaven smooth—a guilty heart panged in your chest.

You watched the many scars lingered upon your body, natural, provided—all yours and you doubted it, doubted the mere fact that Satoru would even think about touching you the way you fantasised.

It was wrong—just a fortnight ago and he was the sweet boy you used to adore and having by, just a week ago he was the boyfriend of your daughter that made your relationship all the more insecure, just tonight he was growing into his age.

Head hung back, you stared at the ceiling- so wrong and so right.

Almost melancholic, your train of thoughts was, and his too as he sat by the window of your room—“Please clean these windows too,” you’d said with a smile, breasts pushed together as you held your hand in front of you—the little pink towel did nothing, you knew that.

His hard-on was obvious, you’d had that effect on guys all the time—but then, maybe it wasn’t for you, maybe he just saw the sight and it reminded him of- maybe-

“God~ fuck-!”

Your ears perked up, maybe that was a moan.

Not maybe, it was—it was all too certain a breathy moan.

And before the better judgement was to be passed, there you were, the pink towel wrapped around all the more perversely as you twisted the knob of the door—entering your room to the prettiest sight in a while that you’d seen.

“Satoru?”

Eyes all so wide, the ministrations came to an immediate halt—“Mrs- Mrs- I- shit,”

You watched him scramble about, struggling to get the pants that he’d pulled down to his ankles, back in place—pale cheeks tinted with the embarrassment he held-“I’ll leave right now,” and you knew your figure standing about, almost naked, did not help.

A giggle you passed, “Satoru, it’s fine baby, what’re you so embarrassed about?”

That, he didn’t expect, neither did you.

A low ‘huh’ dropped from his mouth,a hardened cock hanging out for you to ogle at.

“Yes I mean,” you continued, slowly moving towards him, “it’s all…natural isn’t it? You’re a big boy now too,” your voice was sweet as honey, pulling him, reeling him in.

He watched, estranged, as you swayed your hips, moving in, pulling him—pushing him and there he lay in your bed.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

“Tell me Satoru,” you whispered, nimble fingers grasping the hem that covered you—“are you all grown up? Still my big boy?”

A silent nod, your towel fell.

A smile etched across your face as you saw his mouth widen-“l-like what you see?”

A slight stutter, you were nervous too—just as him.

And it was entirely a surprise to you then, when his were the hands that grasped your hips rough—flipping the both of you over so he was on top.

Lips attached to your neck—his hands ran wild as they explored every bit of you—“So much, so so much, you’re gorgeous,”

Frenzied moans, hefty touches—it was almost as he’d been dying to touch you—and he had.

His lips moved fast—faster than his fingers, moving across every inch of you—a slight tingle you felt as wet and sloppy kisses he left across your shoulder blades, your hands tugging at the white tuft of his hair.

“So soft,” he murmured against your skin— “so fuckin pretty,” he was skillfull, almost, in the way he managed to completely disregard your needs in the moment.

Not a single brush of his fingers or crotch against your pussy—a tease.

You wanted to cry, pleasure hit you hard—and in the way he lingered seconds too long upon every scar that your husband had given you, at every bruise that you held—in the way he handled you so carefully, not as if you were fragile but as if you were his desire personified.

“Tell me, Satoru,” you snickered, at the breathy moans he let out, “how long have you waited for this,”

“Forever,” he breathed out—the crystal blue eyes finally met you then, “God forbid I just- please, please let me?” A whine he let out still, so desperate.

“Always this needy hm?”

He shook his head fast, “Only for you,”

And you knew that just there he was begging all so easily.

“Please- ple-ase,” his voice was a drag, as if afraid that he’d lose this moment all so soon, “please let me…let me touch you- feel you,”

A twinkle in your eye, “if you’re good, yeah?”

He bobbed his head at that- “on your knees for me baby,”

And that he did, so obedient, “Show me how much you’ve yearned,”

It was a dynamic, if anything—you held the control surely, and you lay naked too—sprawled out as your head rested upon the pillows steadily, his between the plush of your thighs.

An airy gasp you let out as you felt him spit upon it, “fuck you’re glistening,” he whined, “So wet from just the thought of me?”

You felt his fingers spread your folds out, he felt so cold against the warmth of your pussy, “Didn’t even need me to spit huh? But had to mark you didn’t I? Remind you that I am the one who gets you this way- has your husband ever gotten you this way huh?”

His words seemed almost feral, a growl with every word as he kept lowering his head— he focused upon your clit.

Your legs lay spread wide open for him, one his hands resting upon your thigh, rubbing soft soothing circles—while the hand finger fucked you.

His finger slipped in so easily, a groan both of you let out together, “so fucking warm I- your pussy’s pratically begging to be ruined,”

You squirmed at his words—already dumb at the way his middle and ring finger pumped inside of you,

“More please,” you moaned out, “need more,”

A smirk he held as he lowered his lips, nipping at your pussy lips, “More what Ma’am? More of what hm?”

A loud whine you let out at his word- “Fuck Toru’ not tonight, please just touch me—want you,”

Enough encouragement, in fact it was all he needed before landing his tongue flat upon your clit, swiping it back and forth upon the little nub.

“Scream my name please,” rough hands pulled at your legs—resisting you from closing your legs—“Arch your back and scream my name, let your neighbours know I’m the one in your silly fucked marriage that gets you so worked up and not that fucker,”

His words barely registered in your head—thrashing at the liable pleasure he held onto you, “Sh-it Toru’ I- right there! Yes please,”

He grinned as he looked up at your face briefly, before diving right back in, suckling at your hardened clit as his fingers prepared your cunt to be ruined by his cock.

“God I should film you being so needy for me,” another groan as his tongue lapped upon your core—“should teach em how to please the perfection you are,”

You whimpered at his words, eyes rolling back at the way he provided just the right kind of pressure- until you weren’t.

A loud whine and groan as he pulled out of your cunt, he grinned, “Want you to cum on my cock when you do — wanna feel you clamp down hard,”

You looked into his eyes, hesitant? Neither of you.

“Taste yourself,” and before you could pull away, shoved into your mouth were his two fingers as you sucked onto it—“Fuckin’ delicious,” he muttered as he pulled away the fingers too.

Needy, he wanted you needy.

Slow, he moved about, rising about and pulling you with him as he kissed your arms—“someday, I’ll leave such pretty marks on you, those are the ones you deserve,”

You bit your lips hard- he did too, as you straddled his lap—“please,” he whimpered and you giggled, “how many times do you think about this?”

All the time.

Any and everytime he was alone, just you on his cock bouncing to chase your euphoria.

You cupped his face as you stared at him, such a pretty innocent look he held—you grinned devilishly as you lined your entrance upon his tip.

"yeah. 'think about it a lot. want you to use me, please, just have me. i'm y — ohhh god, oh fuck me, y-yes please — fuck i'm yours!" his words, bound to be a mess now that you've lowered yourself to meet level with his cock.

It throbbed inside you, it looked so pretty, when you imagined sucking on it— with that curve you always felt pressing against your walls when he would be balls deep inside your pussy- just as now.

“Tell me Toru,” you but down in your lips hard, red, “how many times do you think?”

He gulped hard as he watched you move, unable to hold himself as your warmth spread all over his cock, “J-just some- sometimes, when I- I miss you, when I c-can’t get enou- oh god- can’t get enough,”

He moaned softly, head fallen aback and eyes shut close as you rode him slow, rolling your hips—it took your all to just not give in and fuck yourself dunb over his cock.

“In the shower…after- after practice,”

You giggled at his words, oh how you felt like a filthy girl in the moment, “all sweaty and dirty? Think bout fuckin me in shower?”

“Yeah…” his voice lay a rasp, “think bout you when I’m alone,”

Your words, actions—he was dizzy with pleasure, legs squirming beneath you—toes curling in pleasure and hips stuttering as he reeled in for more.

“Think of you when I fuck your daughter too,” and just at that he thrusted harshly into you, gripping your hips as he moved you fast—“you’re too slow,” he grunted.

A low moan escaped you at his words—him too.

Filthy.

Wrong.

You didn’t care.

"d-you think of me too, when- when you can’t touch it? When it- it d-doesn’t feel right?" his question almost sounded innocent, eager to hear your response.

"Course’ i do. think about my pretty boy all the time. i miss this cock so bad sometimes, 'can't get off the same with any of my toys."

He groaned at that—you could feel him twitching inside you.

11:55 p.m.

You weren’t sure when or how you lost all that time- it didn’t matter.

It was your anniversary in 5 minutes and his birthday.

Your hands grabbed his face and pulled him close—your boobs thrusted into his face, “cum with me ok? Hold on just a pretty while yeah?”

Your words were a lullaby to him, he nodded mindlessly, attaching his lips onto your nipples, swiping his tongue over your nipples.

Your soaking cunt engulfed his cock as you bounced upon it, head hung back as you chased your high—his hands kneaded your skin—one pinching your nipples while the other massaged your ass.

If you could, you’d have seen the adoration in his eyes as you fucked your self onto him—breathy moans and shy grunts, the smell of your sex wafted through the air.

Just another minute.

“S-So good to me-” He stutters, nails latching onto your skin to bounce you more aggressively on his cock as his flustered state slowly dissipates.

So close, both of you—a babbling mess underneath you,Satoru was purely pussy drunk—and just like that, the clock strung 12:00 a.m.

You both drew each other’s orgasm.

You stay there on top of him for a second, panting and heaving you both lay—nuzzling as his fingers drew circles on the small of your back.

Circles, you weren’t aware, those circles were actually his name crafted carefully upon your skin for he knew you were finally his.

“You good?”

A slight smile on your face as you asked him, he lay beside you in your bed—“Happy Birthday Toru,”

“Best birthday I’ve had,”

All of this work is entirely original and my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

— Taglist: @illogicallyx @rizzmin @immurrsed @bbytamaki @abitoldschool

[blackhairedjjun]

flying home to you - c.yj

pairing: choi yeonjun x gn reader | genre / tropes: angst -> fluff, non-idol au, friends to lovers | word count: 889 | warnings: profanity (just one "shit")

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompt - CHOOSE: sender, realizing the receiver is about to make a huge life-changing decision (literally anything, accepting a job offer, accepting a marriage proposal, leaving the country, ANYTHING!) tells the receiver that they’re in love with them, leaving them to choose between the sender and their original path. (requested by @forevrglow - “Can you do the [CHOOSE] prompt with Yeonjun and make it kinda like the ending of Friends? Y/N got an amazing job offer in another country and just as she's about to get on the plane, yeonjun arrives to tell her he loves her and then she gets off the plane”)

author's notes: hi bri, thank you so much for the request! i had to watch clips of the friends ending on youtube for this, i couldn't make it exactly like it just because airport security has changed so much since the show aired 😭 but i tried to keep the gist of your request, i hope you enjoy!

(also to anyone else reading this, please do not take this fic as career or relationship advice!! lmao)

neither the rumbling sound of your luggage wheels nor the roars of the airplanes overhead could drown out your nervous heartbeat. you approached the entrance of the airport terminal, bags in tow, and your nerves seemed to quake more and more with each step. as you found yourself in front of the glass sliding doors, you paused, inhaled deeply, and checked your phone for what felt like the hundredth time.

the electronic copy of your plane ticket was there, as were the email exchanges from your new employer. paris was at your fingertips and in a few hours it would be right in front of you, surrounding you, and even beneath your feet.

yet you still found yourself switching over to your text app and checking your messages with yeonjun. it had been a few hours since you sent a cordial “i’ll text you when the plane lands!” to him, and there was still no reply; he was typically the kind of person who replies as soon as he can, usually late at night before he goes to bed. he had read your text, but not responded.

this fact rattled your nerves more than the plane ticket, the email exchanges, or the flight. sighing, you pocketed your phone again and pushed thoughts of yeonjun out of your mind. maybe it got buried in his inbox...

you gripped the handle of your luggage again to wheel it over to the entrance, but your steps felt slower than ever. other passengers had to walk around you to enter the terminal. why were you so damn nervous? you knew that a new job in a new country was scary, but more than ever you felt rooted to the ground. at the back of your mind were images of your home, of downing beers with yeonjun in your kitchen, of his downcast expression when you told him about moving to paris...

“y/n! wait!”

you whipped around at the sound of a voice that made your heart beat faster. yeonjun stood in front of you as if conjured by your thoughts, out of breath, jacket hastily thrown on and hair tousled. 

“yeonjun, what are you...?”

“y/n, please,” he panted, “hear me out before you go...”

you were both in the way, and passengers shot glares at you as they headed to the terminal entrance. you moved aside, and yeonjun took the opportunity to move closer to you and take both your hands in his.

“i have to be at the gate by一”

“i love you.”

you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

yeonjun’s grip on your hands grew firm. “i’m sorry i never told you earlier,” he continued, voice cracking, “but i... i didn’t want to stop your dreams. i’m sure you’ll do amazing. but now that you’re leaving, and it’s real, and i don’t know when一 shit, i love you, y/n... i love you.”

you were trembling and yeonjun could feel it in your hands. he, too, was shaking, and it took every ounce of effort for him to keep steady.

your mind swam in a haze of thoughts, feelings, images. you remembered the way yeonjun held you when your ex broke your heart, the way his hands nearly brushed yours when he walked you home. you thought of home, of that tiny apartment where you’d stayed up with him talking about your dreams.

then you thought of paris. you thought of your dream job in your dream city. you imagined your new apartment overlooking the seine, and of the picturesque walkways lined with charming houses and old-fashioned streetlamps. your mind instantly created an image of you walking along them towards your new home, surrounded by fashionable locals in elegant coats... but you walked all alone.

where is your home? what is your dream?

then it all snapped together in high clarity.

you had been silent for a while, the thoughts too overwhelming for you to respond. yeonjun was still standing in front of you, and at your silence he dropped your hands. tears formed at the corners of his eyes and you swore you felt your heart break.

“sorry, i... i shouldn’t have said that. you should go...”

he turned to head back to his car. at first you couldn’t process it, and he moved slowly as if in a dream. then your senses caught up with you and you realized 一 yeonjun was walking away. your home, your dream was walking away.

“yeonjun!”

you ran towards him, nearly bumping into several passengers heading to the terminal. he caught you in his arms and his lips met yours; you melted into his embrace, kissing him back. he felt warm and his lips were soft, and you felt the warmth spread to your chest and set your whole body alight.

when you broke apart, you could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears. your eyes met yeonjun’s, shining with adoration,  and the thoughts and emotions swirling around you finally came to a still. 

“i love you too, jjun,” you whispered. “i can’t leave you.”

he pulled you in for a hug and you breathed him in, your face resting against his chest. his heartbeat fell in sync with yours.

“y/n, stay...”

you gripped him even more tightly and nodded. there was no way you could leave your home.

[dez78]

I need you, darling

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

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Relationship: Spawn Astarion x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Blood (18+)

Additional Tags: Astarion being angry with you, Scared Astarion, Romanced Astarion, Boi is worried sick about you.

Summary: A battle goes to shit and Astarion is the first to notice.

(Not my gif)

As you were trekking the wilds with your companions, you stopped because something lurked ahead.

"Be careful, soldier." Karlach warned you. Your eyes were careful, tracing every shape in front you.

"Astarion, you smell anything?" Gale joked with a smirk, Astarion scoffed at him, crossing his arms across his chest.

"I'm not some type of blood hound!" He said offensively as he turned his nose up. Gale smirked as he waited patiently.

"The blood is average, so it's probably humans. Likely bandits or traders." Astarion replied after a silence.

You treaded carefully, watching the trees with your peripheral vision. Your companions at your back, watching every direction, weapons drawn.

Just then you heard the buzz of an arrow as it whizzed past your head, clipping your hair.

"Archers!" Gale cried, you and your companions took cover then.

"Bandits." Astarion scoffed.

You used your tactics to take out the archer, using your own crossbow. You pierced his throat with a bolt.

"Nice shot, soldier!" You heard Karlach complimenting you. You smirked cocky as you bolted out, a bandit surprised you and took a slash at you.

Your quick reflexes responded, you snapped your hips, the blade missing your most vital organs or so you thought. You were quick to cut his throat. He bled out, falling to the ground, grasping his throat.

Your companions charged out then, Astarion used his dual daggers to slice through the enemy, Karlach used her axe to crush her enemies, and Gale stood back blasting fire.

You used a dagger for the last bandit, throwing with precision and ending his life by getting him in the eye. You smiled victoriously.

Then you winced suddenly, you looked up just as Astarion turned around. The wind had shifted, and he picked up a sweet scent. Karlach and Gale approached.

You stumbled as you looked back down, despite being covered in bandit blood and the men on the ground, bleeding on the forest floor. Astarion knew your scent.

You looked down, your tunic starting to soak as fresh blood gushed from an open wound. You thought the blade missed, but it was apparent that in fact did not.

"Y/N!" Astarion rushed over to you.

"Oh shit, you're bleeding, soldier." Karlach noticed a few moments after Astarion.

"We need to get to camp." Gale suggested.

"I'm fine." You muttered, Astarion wasn't having it.

"You've done one dumb thing today already." He snarled as he picked you up. He carried you back to the camp. Gale and Karlach hot on his heels.

You faded in and out of consciousness, all you saw was Astarion. His face was washed with panic, dread, and concern.

"~Stay with me, my love.~" His voice sounded so far, yet he was right above you. Before it went black you heard the fear in Astarion's voice as he spoke,

"~Don't leave me. I need you, darling.~"

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

When you came to, you were at camp.

"She's awake!" Gale cried; the companions rushed over to you. Astarion hadn't left your side.

"What happened?" You asked groggily as you sat up, rubbing your throbbing head.

"You stupid, girl!" Astarion suddenly snapped at you, your heart twinged as you looked up with sorrowful eyes.

"You could have died, you idiot!" He was livid as he fumed. You winced from his raised voice, looking like a kicked puppy.

Astarion relaxed and took a deep breath,

"I'm sorry. I was just worried sick about you, I-" He pursed his lips, you looked at him, still hurt.

"I thought I lost you." He breathed out in a shallow breath. He bowed his head, on the verge of tears.

"Everything we been through, and I thought that was the last of you. As soon as I smelled your blood, I was full of dread, fearing the worst." Astarion explained. He took your hands in his.

"That was a stupid thing to do, but you're not stupid or an idiot. I just couldn't imagine the pain if I had lost you. I-" Astarion explained, he stopped again.

"I care about."

"I love you."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, he had never said those words before without it being some kind of joke. You looked into his eyes and saw the concern and sincerity. He meant it. He loves you.

"Please, for the love of the gods. Please, be more careful next time. I don't think my fragile heart can take that kind of pain again." Astarion pleaded with you, his eyes were genuine, and his voice was shaky. You nodded your head slowly as a smile crossed your lips.

"That's a good girl, darling." Astarion said softly as he leaned in and captured your lips in a tender kiss.

[kelcemenow]

Walk With Me.

Pairing Taron Egerton x Reader

Words 3620

Warnings I think the only curse word is the first one! There's some flirting, some angst and cute moments in between! There's also a lot of time jumping but it's easy to keep up so don't worry!

"Shit." You quietly whispered to yourself as you accidentally stepped straight into a large puddle. Shaking the water off from your shoe, you noticed that Riley was none the wiser. She was happily running along in the long grass, searching out every scent that she could trace. 

You slowly walked over to where Riley had dropped her ball and picked it up, calling her over to throw it again.

Just as the ball left your fingers, you noticed another person in the park with you. It was a man. He was quite a distance away from you, but you could see that he was standing still, staring into the nearby trees. A small, tan dog was running around his feet, but he remained still in thought.

Riley bounded back to your feet, retrieving the ball and looking up at you to throw it again. You tore your eyes away from the stranger and walked further into the park, throwing the ball ahead of you.

______________________________________________________________

Your sunglasses dimmed the bright afternoon sunshine and you could feel the warm grass brushing against your sandal-clad feet. The warner weather made your daily walks with Riley much more bare-able and you gladly took a longer route on days like today.

You were almost back to your usual spot in the park when a figure in your peripheral vision caught your attention. It was the man from a few weeks earlier. He was closer than before though, you could see his hazel green eyes creasing as he smiled, watching his own dog play with a ball.  

Riley noticed also, and without a second of hesitation, ran over to greet them.

"Riley!" You called after her, making your way across the grass.

"She's okay, mine's friendly." The man shouted as you got closer.

He was right. Looking down you saw Riley and his dog sniffing and running around each other, jumping as their tails wagged in unison.

"Sorry, I just get nervous sometimes. She's still a puppy and you never know with strange dogs."

He looked up at you, "So, you're saying that my dog is strange?"

Your mouth dropped open, "Oh God no! No! That's not what I meant, I-"

His mouth curved into a smile and his eyes softened, "Relax! I'm joking!"

You exhaled and your shoulders relaxed as you smiled back at him.

"I know what you mean. I've had a few scary moments. Nelly just wants to play...some dogs don't like that, she has a lot of energy!"

You glanced back down at Riley, who was stood still now, looking in the direction of the park gates. There was an awkward pause.

“Come on, Riley.” You waved your hand away and turned on your heels.

"See you around." The man said, smiling and raising his eyebrows.

______________________________________________________________

Your bright, floral summer dress waved in the breeze as some strands of hair fell down to frame your face. You smiled and looked down at the ground as you tucked some hair behind your ear.

He was walking towards you, with Nelly in tow. You'd thought about him occasionally since you last saw him, and you found yourself glancing over your outfit in the hopes that you looked good enough.

"Hello again!"

"Hi." You smiled.

Riley looked up at the man approaching her and gladly wagged her tail as he knelt down to stroke her, "I'm Taron..." He glanced over to his own dog, "...and you've already met Nelly."

You smiled again, "I'm Y/N...and I think you've made a new best friend in Riley." You looked down at she was jumping up at him, "She likes you."

He looked up at you and reciprocated your smile. "Cute."

"Yeah, she is."

"I wasn't talking about Riley."

Your mouth opened slightly, and you took a short breath. Your lips curled into a grin and he stood up slowly.

"It's a beautiful day." He looked up towards the sun, "We could walk together?"

You looked around to find Riley, who was becoming properly acquainted with Nelly. Pushing more hair out of your face from the gentle summer wind, you dropped your sunglasses down from the top of your head, "Sure."

There was a short but not uncomfortable silence as you both walked through the park, the gentle breeze making the trees hush.

“So, have you just moved to the area?” You said, hoping not to sound too intrusive.

He swallowed and cleared his throat, “Yeah, just last week.”

“I thought so, I just hadn’t seen you around?” You justified your question, “You know, you get to know the faces in the park.”

“Are you here every day then?” He asked and you swore you could hear hope in his voice.

Nodding your head, you bent down to collect Riley’s ball, “Yeah, pretty much. She has so much energy that she needs to burn off!”

“I can see that!” He said, laughing as her tiny legs moved at an impressive speed, “I bet she keeps you on your toes?”

“Something like that.”

Another short silence. You both watched as Nelly and Riley were running around, finding smells together and enjoying the summer wind. You broke your gaze from the dogs to sneak a glance at Taron, noticing his kind but piercing eyes and the faint creases in his skin. His chin was speckled with short hairs that covered his sharp jawline. He was undoubtably handsome but there seemed to be a softness to him, something that made you even more intrigued.

“So, what do you do for fun around here?” He said, slightly kicking his feet as he walked.

“Erm…it depends what you would consider fun?” You responded in a more flirtatious way than you intended.

He picked up on your tone by flicking his eyebrows upwards quickly, “I’m up for anything, me.”

You breathed a laugh, “There’s some good restaurants, and there’s a street not far from here with some amazing little independent shops. They stock my favourite hand poured candles.”

“Aww, I love candles!” He said, his voice rising in pitch, “I always try to have one burning.”

“Me too!” Your hand rested on your chest, “You’ll absolutely have to go!”

“Maybe I will.”

“There’s tons of live music too, pretty every pub has a band on every Friday, Saturday and Sunday night.”

He leaned in a little closer, “Seems I’ve got a pretty good tour guide here.”

Your cheeks flushed and you smiled before leaning down to throw Riley’s ball, grateful for the curtain of hair hiding your pink face.

“Maybe, I could get your number and we could hang out? You could show me around the town?”

You straightened up and blinked a few times, “Uh…yeah sure! Sounds good to me.”

Taron glanced at the fork in the path as he reached into his pocket, “I’m gunna head up this way but I’ll text you?”

Your mouth stretched into a grin as you carefully typed your number into his phone, checking that it was correct before handing it back to him, his fingers gently brushing against yours.

“I’ll see you around?”

You gently nodded your head as you watched him turn out of the park, your eyes seemingly fixated on the space where he once was. You were quickly broken from your trance when Riley barked up at you, ready for another chase.

______________________________________________________________

The cool air whipped around your face, but you were pleased for the breeze. The fever that was burning through your body was intolerable, along with the stomach-churning sickness that came with it. You weren't unwell though; this was all self-inflicted from countless glasses of wine from the night before. 

You watched Riley as she gladly ran in amongst the grass, nose close to the ground, unaware of how much you craved your sofa.

The evening had started out as a quiet drink with some friends from work but soon spiralled into cocktails and dancing. You grasped at your head as you started to remember fuzzy memories that your brain was trying to push forward in your mind, along with a thumping that wouldn't let up.

"Good morning sunshine!"

A bright voice forced you to turn around, "Taron!" Your eyes narrowed as more memories came flooding back, "Oh my God, I saw you last night!"

"Yeah, you were pretty wasted!" He laughed gently as he unclipped Nelly from her leash, "How are you feeling?"

"As bad as I look."

He shrugged, "Nah, you look pretty good...considering."

You would've blushed, if it weren't for the red haze that was covering your cheeks already. You pushed some hair away from your face as you squinted your eyes at him, "I didn't do anything embarrassing, did I?"

He laughed and started to walk with you, following your dogs, "I wouldn't say that but..."

Your face fell, "Oh God, what? I'm so sorry! What did I do?"

He laughed again, "You don't need to apologise! But you need to thank me."

You lowered your eyebrows in confusion.

"It was around 2am when you decided that it would be a great idea to do shots of vodka while dancing on the bar."

You dropped your head and groaned.

"But I stopped you and insisted that I walked you home."

"You...you walked me home?" 

He kicked some pebbles on the ground, "Yeah. We live really close to each other. Plus, you were a mess by that point, I had to be a gentleman."

You gently brought your hand to his arm, "Thank you. Really, thank you. And you're wrong...I do need to apologise. I know I'm bad when I'm drunk."

He put his hand on top of yours, "Seriously, don't worry about it. I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

You felt your heart leap as your hands touched, but you weren't sure if it was from the contact or from the hangover. His hand dropped and he placed it in his hoodie pocket. You did the same and took in a deep breath of fresh air.

The path you were walking split off into two directions and Taron started turning left as you slowed down.

"Are you going up to the top today?" Taron pointed his finger towards the path that lead to an area of the park that was lined with wildflowers.

You felt a rumble in the pit of your stomach and the heat in your body rose a few degrees in temperature.

"Erm, actually..." You knelt down slowly to put Riley's leash back on, "I'm probably going to go back." You clutched at your stomach.

His eyebrows lowered, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah...I'm fine. I just-" You hurried backwards, nausea coming in waves, "-I just have to go." You quickly said before turning and rushing back towards your house.

______________________________________________________________

Riley was practically dragging you into the park, pulling your arm holding onto the leash that was attached to her collar. She could see Taron and Nelly further into the gates and you couldn't keep up with her pace. The leash slipped from your fingers and Riley ran ahead, bounding towards them.

"Riley!" You yelled out, making Taron's head turn in your direction.

He smiled and kneeled down to collect the leash, letting Nelly greet her canine friend, "She's just too excited to see me!"

You laughed, "Clearly!"

"Or is this all a cover up for the fact that it was you who wanted to see me?" He nudged your arm once you arrived his side.

"Oh, haha." You said, unenthusiastically, "Don't flatter yourself, Egerton."

"You're not denying it." He raised an eyebrow.

You shook your head. 

He was right, though. Every time you took Riley for her daily walks, you secretly hoped that you'd bump into him. Since you had last seen him, you had been messaging each other online, usually until the early hours of the morning, throwing banter back and forth. You talked about your shared tastes in music and movies, he'd send you the occasional message with a new song that he'd found that he thought you might like, or a line from the book that he was currently reading. He would occasionally send you funny Welsh words and their translations and tag you in memes almost every day. His messages made you smile and you as each day went by, you thought more and more about him. 

You looked up to him, "By the way, that playlist that you sent me this morning...oh my God!"

His face was animated, "I know right?! That third song is getting played at my wedding!"

A shiver ran down your spine and you silently wondered if he was currently engaged and a wedding was imminent. You blinked and quickly changed the subject.

"I must admit, I do look forward to your daily messages."

His face changed into a small smile, that grew as he threw his arm around your shoulder, walking with you along the path, "Well, it’s a good job I intend to carry on sending them then, isn’t it?”

______________________________________________________________

There was something that you loved about autumn. Something about the colours and the idea that nature was preparing for winter that held you in intrigue. You watched over the park that you were familiar with in awe, watching the leaves that had fallen from the trees turn to a warm hue of orange, when you saw something else familiar.

Taron was sat on a bench further down the path with his back to you, headphones on and hunched over what was probably his phone.

You walked closer, Riley following you in excitement at seeing Nelly, and poked a finger in his back when you got to him. He pulled his headphones down and twisted around to face you.

His face lit up, "Oh! I was just texting you!"

Your hand ghosted over your pocket where your phone was, "Were you?"

"Yeah!" He put his phone away, "I was just seeing if you were out walking Riley."

Riley jumped at Taron's knees and he stroked her, scratching his fingers into her head. He looked back to you as you sat down next to him.

"How've you been?" He squinted his eyes, shielding his face from the glare of the sun.

You pushed some hair behind your ear, "I'm good, and you?"

"Yeah, I actually wanted to-" He was interrupted by his phone that was in his hand springing into life. He glanced at the screen and his eyes narrowed with an emotion that you couldn't detect, "-hold that thought. I have to get this."

You smiled and nodded, looking over to where Riley and Nelly were, watching them run around each other.

"Hey...yeah." He paused and lowered his head looking down at his feet, shuffling them awkwardly, "...what time do you get in? Okay cool...sure. No...no that's fine." He glanced quickly to you and you caught his gaze for a couple of seconds, "Okay, call me when you get to- yeah...you too."

You looked away, not wanting to seem intrusive to his conversation. He pocketed his phone and rose to his feet.

"We'll have to cut this walk short I'm afraid." He looked over to Nelly and whistled to gain her attention.

"Oh, no problem." You smiled, "You got something to do?" You scolded yourself slightly for prying.

"Erm yeah, kind of." He scratched the back of his neck nervously as Nelly came running back to him, "My friends is visiting, she's-well she's my girlfriend. She's working away and she's back for a few days."

Your stomach dropped to your feet. He had a girlfriend, of course he did. He was funny and intelligent, not to mention exceptionally handsome. You had no idea why you were disappointed. Sure, there was friendly flirting between the pair of you but nothing had ever gone any further. That's all it was, friendly.

"Oh...right." You tried your hardest not to let the disappointment flood your face, but you were sure you had failed in your attempts.

Taron bent down to attach Nelly to her leash as you exhaled away your emotions, biting at your bottom lip. Your eyebrows raised as you caught his gaze again.

"I'll...see you around I suppose."

"Yeah, see you around, Taron."

You watched as he walked away. Your stomach knotted as you studied his body language. You had never known him to deflate so much, everything about him had disappeared. His smile seemed forced for some reason, but you pushed the thought to the back of your mind. Taking a breath, you walked further into the park, letting the gentle breeze cool your skin.

______________________________________________________________

You checked your phone for what felt like the hundredth time that day. It had been almost a week with no contact from Taron at all. Figuring he was busy with his girlfriend, you put your phone back into your pocket and carried on walking with Riley.

You missed him. You missed his morning messages and whenever he got excited about a new pair of sunglasses that he had just bought or a new candle that he loved the smell of. You missed the walks you sometimes shared with your dogs and how completely at ease you felt around him. You missed how he would sometimes lean closer to you when he was talking. You missed the way he would look at you.

But you were just friends, right?

______________________________________________________________

"Taron?" You called out to him. 

He was stood in the large open area of the park, staring down into the grass. He didn't reply, nor did he seem to notice you were even there.

"Hey...Taron?" 

His head raised slowly, and his eyes refocused onto you, "Oh...hey."

You frowned when you noticed how exhausted he looked. His cheek dimples always seemed to be present but they were nowhere to be seen. His hair was messier than usual and there was no smile on his lips when he looked at you.

"Taron...are you okay?" You couldn't hide your concern.

He cleared his throat and looked back down at the grass, "Yeah...I'm fine." He blinked his bleary eyes.

As you studied his face you could see that his mouth was clenched, his strong jawline accentuated and his eyebrows were slowly making their way closer together.

"Nah...I'm not buying it." You moved to face him, "What's the matter with you?"

He closed his eyes and brought a hand to his face, rubbing across his forehead, "Nothing, I said I'm fine."

"And I said I'm not buying it." You reached for his arm and he almost flinched, "Come on, I haven't heard from you in a week, I haven't seen you out walking Nelly and in the nicest way possible Taron, you look like shit."

"It's Kate."

"Kate?"

"Kate...my girlfriend Kate."

You nodded and waiting patiently for him to continue.

"It's...it's just been a difficult week."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Taron." You gulped as he looked at you. You weren't sure if you wanted to hear about her anyway.

"No...no. I think I need to just get it off of my chest." He glanced towards the dogs before motioning across to the bench.

You both sat down and he rested his elbows on his knees, palms pressed together as his eyes danced in anticipation.

"I think she's cheating on me."

You leaned back slightly; eyebrows raised in surprise. It's safe to say that you weren't expecting that.

"What makes you think that?"

His lips curled into a smile as he exhaled, "At first I thought I was just being paranoid. But now I'm fairly certain." He paused as his tried to find his words, "She's works away a lot and she can only visit every so often. And the last few times she's visited...something hasn't seemed right. And if I'm being honest...I haven't been happy for a while."

You could see some moisture forming in his eyes, but he quickly blinked it away.

"Why are you still with her?"

He froze, his hair blowing in the breeze being the only movement on his body. Finally, he let out a breath and shook his head, "I really don't know. She stuck with me while I was broke and trying to make something of myself."

"You don't owe her anything if you're not happy. You know that, right?" You thought for a second, "And if you're sure that she's cheating on you...then-"

"She was using the bathroom and she got a text. I thought it was my phone so I grabbed it and there were all these messages, you know...I can't believe she'd do that to me."

"You don't deserve this Taron." You gently placed your hand on his knee, and he broke his gaze from the floor to look at the contact.

He kept his eyes on your hand for a short moment before you started to pull it away, but he quickly stopped you, "No, don't."

"Taron-"

He cut you off mid-sentence, pressing his lips to yours, gently but hungrily. His hand ran up your arm, finding its way to cup to your face, fingers pulling at your hair.

You melted into him for a moment, before feeling a stab of guilt. You pulled away quickly, placing your hand over his that was still placed on the side of your face. His forehead pressed against yours, his eyes burning into you.

"We shouldn't...I mean, you still have a girlfriend." You whispered.

"But I-" Taron started, moving into you closer.

"No, it's not right." You held his hand and pushed it away from you.

Taron closed his eyes for a moment before nodding gently. You rose to your feet and clipped the leash onto Riley who was sniffing down by your feet.

"Call me when you've got everything figured out."

______________________________________________________________

Ughhhhh...I just love him! I might do another chapter of this if people want it. I find him really easy to write for so I'm also willing for any requests!

If you don't want to miss another Taron fic, let me know and I will add you to my Taglist! Who wants to be first on this list??

[holobandit]

I'm So Lonesome

Rating: Explicit

Read it on Ao3

Pairing: Joel Miller/Male!Reader

Warnings: Injuries, Injury Recovery, Food Mention & Consumption, Past Relationship, Bathing/Washing, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Legal Age Gap, Smut, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Spit as Lube, Daddy Kink, Edging

Summary: Injured while traveling, Joel and Tommy find you on one of their patrols and bring you back to Jackson.

Shit, you thought to yourself. When you fell off that small ledge, you thought you were going to be able to land it safely. Fate had a different change in plan. As you held your legs, trying not to bawl your eyes out from the pain, you heard hooves behind you. You tried to stand up, but fell right back down, now in more pain. You began to drag yourself to a nearby bush for cover, but the visitors came up behind you too quickly.

“Hey Joel,” You hear behind you, “Look like we got a straggler from the QZ.”

You turn to see the two men on horseback, the two men obviously brothers from how similar they look. The one that you assume spoke had to be the younger one on the left, the older, more grizzled man on the right had his eyes trained on you. Joel, a fitting name for an old man.

Joel watched your heavy breaths and a tear roll down your cheek. He looked around you, sawing the chunks of dirt from the ledge you were once standing on. He flung his rifle to his back and hopped off his horse. The man on the left got his rifle from the back and aimed it at you.

“Tommy, he ain’t no threat.” Joel huffed, “He fell from that dam cliff I’ve been warning people ‘bout.” He approached you, got down on your level, “Kid, count yourself lucky that we came and not anything worse.”

You nod to him, still trying to keep yourself calm enough to take Joel’s hand to try to stand up. You yelp, the pain too much to put onto your legs. Joel quickly picked you up bridal style and came over to his horse. He helped you get up on the horse’s back.

Joel hopped onto the horse and turned to Tommy, “Let’s cut this patrol short, Tommy, this kid needs help.” He grabbed your arms and pulled them around his stomach, making you lean up against his back. “Keep your hands around me. Don’t wanna pick you up from another fall.”

All you could do was nod as the two started to trace their tracks back. You were feeling tired, but kept yourself awake by lightly squeezing Joel’s stomach. Joel would make a soft exhale every time you did this. He was obviously flustered, but whatever it was, kept you awake.

You came upon a huge wooden gate and heard yelling. You couldn’t tell what was said, you were in the middle of almost passing out. As the gate opened, your body finally gave up and you felt your body weight fall on the back of Joel as he yelled for the infirmary.

You wake up to bright lights, and you thought you were back in a QZ. You shot yourself awake, turning side to side, trying to figure out where you were. That’s when you saw Joel, reading a book, slowly put it down on the table next to him.

“Hey, calm down there, kid.” Joel put your hand on your shoulder and lightly pushed you back down to the bed. “Don’t need yourself stressin’ out with your broken ankle.”

“Oh,” You spoke, mouth dry, “Water?”

“Yeah, let me prop you up,” Joel helped position the pillows to lean against the bedframe and then handed you a cup of water.

You downed that thing, not realizing how thirsty you were. You set the cup next to you, and sat there in silence for a little before Joel broke it.

“How long have you been away from the QZ?” Joel asked, “You must have had a group at one point.”

“I’ve lost track,” You admitted, “The days seem to all blend together. It was just me for the longest time, till you and your brother found me.”

“Tommy was about to shoot ya’,” Joel shook his head, “You’re pretty smart to figure out we’re brothers. We need people like that round here. I promised Tommy I’d look after you since it was my idea to bring you here to Jackson.” Joel picks up the cup from your bed, “Oh, I’m Joel, should probably introduce your ‘savior’.” Joel rolled his eyes.

You said your name, and Joel cracked a small smile, “Fits ya’ well.”

Your eyes got heavy, and Joel patted you on the shoulder, letting you fall back asleep.

When you woke back up, you were in a home. A small room, with just a bed, a dresser, a chair, and a window behind you. You can tell it was at least taken care of in the end days. You notice someone coming into your room with a bucket of water with a towel flung on its side. You try to say something but your mouth was too dry.

The girl then yelled behind her to the door, “He’s awake, Joel!”

You heard heavy footsteps as he rounded the corner and there was Joel. He was just wearing a T shirt, some jeans, and socks. The shirt was a little too tight, showing off that he had a chest along with a soft belly. He came in and gave you the cup of water, and you downed it.

“Thanks, Joel.” You wiped your mouth, “I guess that this is your place and,” You look at the girl. She doesn’t look like she is Joel’s daughter, not a single thing remotely same in the face.

“I’m Ellie, a thorn in this old man’s side.” She winked.

You let out a small laugh, “Oh, I can tell.”

Joel just shook his head, “Give me the bucket, I’ll wash him down.”

Ellie handed Joel the water bucket and headed out. Joel then pulled the chair with his leg to the edge of the bed. He pulled off the covers, revealing you in just boxers and makeshift casts for your ankle.

“Somethin’ tells me you haven’t had a decent bath in a while, correct?” Joel dipped the cloth in the water.

“Y-Yeah,” You mumbled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll just be doin’ your back and legs. The rest you can do.” Joel wrung out the excess water and began on your legs.

The amount of dirt and grime was so bad, you almost forgot what it was like to feel clean. Joel was gentle around the cast, making sure just to get the exposed part as to not cause infections. You can tell that his hands were rough from the life he lived, but his touch was soft and caring. There was a stillness in the air. You were afraid to break it, the way Joel was caring for you. He then sat you up and began work on your back. It hits you then, this man was the one that probably undressed and dressed you. You felt your face get hot and you wondered if Joel found you attractive like you did. Your cock twitched underneath the boxers. His hooked nose would feel great against your-

Joel called your name again, this time a little louder, “Everything alright?”

Your voice shook, “Yeah, yeah. Just thinking about some stuff.”

A soft smile appeared on Joel’s face, “Okay,” He dipped the towel back in the bucket and wrung it out, “It’s your turn. Let me go get a dry towel.”

Joel handed you the wet towel and walked outside the room. You slowly began to wash the parts that you could get. It felt amazing. It’s the little things like this that keep you sane in a world like this. Your mind quickly drifted to Joel. You saw the looks he’d give you, and you wonder, if he plays on the same side as you. You wanted to show how much this tenderness he’s showing you has helped you. You’ll have to wait until you’re a little more healed. You put the towel back in the bucket. You couldn’t help but run your hand above your bulge to relieve some of the twitching.

Joel came in with a towel and closed the door behind him. You quickly put your hands to the side as he came closer to the bed. You felt like a teenager that just been caught.

“Uh, thanks for the towels.” You shake.

“It’s nothin’.” Joel smiled, eyes trailing down to your crotch.

That’s when you realize, a tent has appeared on your boxers. You thought you could get it down by the time Joel came back, but obviously him being here just made it worse. Joel sat down and set a one of the towels on the bed. He began to dry your back off, he is completely ignoring your hard on. You feel your face get red hot, no, it’s on fire now. He slowly went from your back, to your chest, then to your legs, being very careful around your boxers so not to touch the tent. Him just being gentle made it so much worse. Now there was a small wet spot to appear at the very top of the boxer’s tent.

Finally, after what seemed like hours. He got up, and took the bucket with him. He did get a quick glance. He conveniently left the towel on the chair, just enough for you to reach it. That was kind of him. After he closed the door, you pulled your cock out, smeared the precum around your head, and began to stroke your cock, quickly. You’ve never been this hard so quickly, and so ready to cum. Heavy breaths before you put your other hand over your mouth to stifle a moan. Ropes shoot up your stomach and making a mess of your cock.

You quickly get the towel and clean yourself up, stuff yourself back in your boxers, and lay back down on the bed. You’re exhausted, not just from the jerk session you had, but the edging that Joel was somehow apart of. Right before you drift back to sleep, you finally hear footsteps walk away from your door.

When Joel closed the door behind him, he was turned on, something that hasn’t been in his mind for a while. He set the bucket next to the door and pressed his ear to the door. He shouldn’t be doing this, hell, especially to someone as young as you. Your breathy sounds echoed in his head. Then the stifled moan was now a permanent fixture in his brain. He palmed his crotch, elevating some of the pressure. He quickly left the bucket behind and went into his room.

As soon as he closed the door and locked it behind him, Joel ripped off his pants, including his boxers. The fact that he put you in his boxers, that they would smell like you now, drove Joel up the wall. He spat on his hand and began to chase that high. He replayed those sighs and stifled moan over, and over again. He was fucking his hand at this point, imagining your ass up, and your hole filled with him, and marking you as his.

With that last image in his mind, he cums. Grunting with every rope of cum that shoots out and onto the floor. He couldn’t even bother to do it in the master bathroom, he needed relief now. When he finally came to his senses, his face got hot. He never had this type of attraction since he was in his early 20’s, since…Wayne.

As he cleaned up, the memories flood back to him. Young love between two men trying to figure out themselves and the world. They were two men really using each other for release, if Joel was being honest with himself, but he looked back at his time with Wayne fondly. Something about you, reminded him of Wayne. Maybe it was the shyness that Wayne had before they done anything sexual, or that you had the same innocent looking eyes. Either way, he knew you were going to be hard to get off his mind now.

The next couple of weeks were a blur, the constant trying to get your independence, just for Joel to stop you, saying, “You need to rest.” and “Your body ain’t ready just yet.”

You wonder at all if you were going to heal properly, but you listen to Joel. He had this commanding stature about him. It was intoxicating to be around, and you were surprised no women had scooped him up from that. Which even gave you more hope that he leaned your way. You saw Ellie and this other girl, Dina, start to hang out. Even from the interaction between those two girls, you knew Ellie was head over heels for this girl. Just from the way Ellie held herself around Dina, you knew it was a crush.

That just reinforced your crush on Joel. He was a strong man, always doing patrols making sure there was no infected around Jackson, but he had a softer side he only showed you. You wanted just to go away with all the bullshit, pull him down by his shirt, and kiss him, but there was that fear. Last memory of the QZ you had was a group of men chasing you down for flirting with one of them. Luckly, you escaped, but that was the last straw that broke the camel’s back. You had to leave the QZ for your own survival.

You were deep in thought when Joel came in with a meal. You could care less of what it was, but it was tasty. You notice Joel also had a plate for himself too. You and Joel ate in the stillness of this room, until you broke the silence between bites.

“I left my QZ, not because I was stir crazy, but for my own safety.” You look down at your plate, letting the words flow through you, “I flirted with the wrong guy and ended up being chased by a bunch of assholes, throwing whatever they can at me.”

Joel just continues to eat his food, letting you get those thoughts out of your head.

“It was the breaking point for me, I couldn’t just live my life in the shadow of the QZ, risking my life to go after curfew to get some relief.” You set your fork down, “Sorry if I’m just ranting, just haven’t been anyone to tell…until you, Joel.”

Joel nodded, “I’m glad you were able to get that out.”

After you two finished your meals, Joel grabbed your plate, brushing your hand, and lingering there for a little longer. Then he left you, again. You curse yourself, you wanted to kiss that man, give him everything he needed. You were in no state to do anything, so you wait.

Finally, after a month of bed rest, you are given makeshift crutches. They’re not the most comfortable thing in the world, but it’s better than nothing. You started walking, really hobbling, around Jackson. The people were kind, but they seemed to notice how Joel would hover, making sure you’re safe. He’d always walk with you if he didn’t have something important to do.

Once, you lost your footing and fell, but Joel was right there before you could hit the ground. He held you there for a minute, almost if asking if he could get closer, but he quickly stood you back up and gave you back the crutches. There would be more instances of Joel seeming to ask for permission, but he’d quickly backpedal, almost too afraid. That was until one night.

Joel was sitting on the porch, strumming his guitar, but this time, you knew the song he was playing. It was I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry by Hank Williams. You come out of the door as Joel sung this verse;

The silence of a falling star Lights up a purple sky And as I wonder where you are I'm so lonesome, I could cry

You startle Joel, “Love that song.”

“Damn it, kid,” Joel set the guitar besides him, “Don’t startle me like that. How’d you know this song? Knowing you’re…” Joel gestures towards you, “Young.”

You smile, with a happy memory flooding your senses, “My mom would sing this to me. I know it’s a sad song, but there is something behind it that strikes me as…vulnerable.” You sat down next to Joel on the bench.

You two sat in silence as the two of you stared at the stars. Your mind races around the man next to you. Your mind was trying to come up with ways of saying anything to the man you admire, as a friend and a savior. Joel, on the other hand, was battling with the idea of just skipping all this bullshit, bringing you up to his bedroom, and showing you how much he was obsessed with you. He kept stealing glances at your face looking up at the stars. The light glow on your face made your eyes shine. Your hand slowly began to drift to Joel’s, and you lightly grasp his hand. You expected him to pull it away, but he squeezed it back.

“So, the feeling is mutual.” You tell Joel, looking down at his lips.

“I ain’t very good at tellin’ people my feelings,” Joel leaned in, hovering above your lips.

“Then show me.” You pleaded.

With that, Joel closed the gap between the two. He was rough, and hungry with his kisses. Joel was afraid you might pull away, but once he heard that moan, he knows you’re puddy in his hands now. His tongue slid against your bottom lip, begging for entry. You leaned back but Joel grabbed your arm and shoved his tongue in. You couldn’t help but let yourself moan. Every move from Joel was intoxicating. He dragged you up and gently pulled you inside, still giving you help so your weight wasn’t on your bad ankle.

Once inside, both of you made it to his room. It wasn’t anything special, but it smelled just like him, uniquely him. He guided you to his bed, and pulled down your pants along with the boxers. Your cock sprung out, leaking pre cum already. Joel had a light chuckled to himself before he took his hand and ran it down your cock. It was a soft touch, but his rough hands made it even more sensitive.

You moan out of pleasure, “More, daddy.”

Your body stiffens, you should have asked before he touched you, but everything was happening so fast, it passed your mind. Joel hovers right above your balls before lightly grasping them and leaning, pressing his lips against your ear.

“Tell Daddy what you want.” Joel growls.

“Your cock,” You pleaded, “Your cock in my mouth.”

Joel flipped you over to where your head was dangling off the bed. You quickly work on taking off your shirt as Joel strips. Once you got the shirt off, you see Joel kick off his boots and pull his pants and boxers down in one pull. His cock was hard, uncut, and perfectly curved up. He came up and sat his balls in your mouth, and you were eager to lick them. He slowly stroked his cock as you worship his sack. He then pulled himself off of you, and lined his cock against your mouth.

“If you need a breather, tap my thighs.” Joel tells you.

Before you could even nod your head in agreement, Joel pushed passed your lips, and was in your mouth. He let out a sigh and slowly began to thrust in and out. You hollow out your cheeks and another moan came from Joel’s lips. His trusts became faster and you felt his balls slap against your face. Spit began to spill out the corners of your mouth. You were intoxicated by his scent and wanted to keep going, but your lungs burned. You tapped his thighs and pulled his cock out of your mouth. You gasped, drool covering your face, your eyes felt blown out from the lust you were feeling.

“Ain’t you a beauty.” Joel exhaled, slowly pumping his cock with your spit.

You quickly turn yourself on your stomach and flip yourself to show off your ass to Joel. He grabbed fistful of your ass, making sure to pull your cheeks apart and tease your hole. Joel then slapped his cock against your hole, and you gasp at the sudden feeling.

“Tell me ya want this.” Joel pleaded.

“Please,” You gasp out, “Please Daddy, fill me up.”

Joel spat on your hole and pushed the head of his cock in. It was tight and burned, but damn, did it feel like heaven. He slowly began to push forward. Your breathing got more sporadic as he stretched you out. Joel grabbed your hips as he became flush to your ass. One hand then drifted up your back, helping you calm down.

“Atta Boy,” Joel cooed, “You’re doin’ just fine.”

Joel then slowly began to pull back out, then push in. His finger tips dug into your hips. He cursed to himself; you were tight. Every slow thrust wasn’t doing anything for you. You wanted Joel to destroy you, make you ache in the morning. He needed something to get him started.

“Daddy,” You moan out, “Faster, I can take it.”

Joel thrusts began to speed up, so you began to beg. It snapped something in Joel. The breathy moans, calling him ‘Daddy’, arching your back to press your ass against him, drove Joel up the wall. He pulled himself out and flipped you on your back, wanting to see your face as he destroyed your hole.

Joel spat on his dick one last time before shoving himself into your hole again. He was relentless, never breaking pace, and the moans. The moans that came from this man was heavenly. Every pant, every grunt, was music to your ears. Your cock was hard and leaking precum. Joel took it in his hand. He let a large spit droplet fall down on it, and began to stroke. He loved the way your cock felt against his hand. Your hands shot up and pulled him down by the neck to kiss him. Tongues fought against each other, but Joel’s won over. It shoved into your mouth, and he tasted himself mixed with a taste that was uniquely you.

Joel pulled away, “Need ya to cum.” He put his forehead against yours, “I need ya to cum”

With a few more pumps and Joel’s encouragement, you shot ropes up your stomach and onto Joel’s hand. Joel’s thrusts became erratic and within seconds, he moaned out. He filled your hole with rope after rope of his seed. When he was finally done, he stopped, lifted his cum drenched hand and licked it all up.

“Love the way you taste.” He panted out.

As Joel slowly pulled out, you whimpered at the loss, but another wave of pleasure washed over you as you felt his cum leak out of your hole. Joel spread your cheeks and with a finger, gathered up the leaking cum and pushed it back in.

You hummed, “Like making sure I’m filled up with you, Daddy?”

Joel chuckled, and leaned in for a kiss, “You’re gonna be the end of me.”

You smiled, kissing him back, “I’d be happy with that.”

The two of you then laid on Joel’s bed together. Joel had you in his arms, as the two of you drifted away to a deep sleep.

Dividers by saradika-graphics

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

See You At Sunset - a Lost Without You Drabble

Summary: You and Billy get lost on the way to Polzeath for a holiday, and decide to kill time by 'watching the sunset' | Word Count: 2.4k~ | Warnings below the cut!

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Billy W Taglist

A/N: Can be read as a standalone or as part of the Lost Without You story as a prequel 💕

Warnings: semi-public sex, sex in a car, p in v, praise

Billy remembered the last holiday they went on together, in the late spring. They'd driven to Cornwall with a hired minivan. And before arriving into Port Isaac, they'd stopped on a country road in the late afternoon when the sun touched the sea. He'd made love to her in the driver's seat and admired the way the orange sunset kissed the colour of her hair. She looked gorgeous then, face flushed and legs astride him.

"Billy, I'm telling you for free, we are lost"

She says for what feels like the hundredth time.

Billy sighs, one hand clasped on the steering wheel and the other resting on the side, his fingers anxiously running through his sandy, blonde hair.

"We are not lost. The satnav is just on the piss" he grumbles, leaning forward to fiddle with the settings on it. Trying to type in 'Polzeath' again with one shaky finger while concentrating on the road with the other.

"Billy!"

"Shit!"

He slams on the brakes, seatbelts tugging at their chests, about to go straight through a level crossing as the gates are going down. The velocity of it makes her pull forwards in her seat, ripping the map she'd been looking at right in two.

Once he's caught his breath a bit and calmed the rapid beating of his heart, she snorts a laugh.

Billy looks over unamused.

"Didn't we do this whole 'having a holiday in the UK thing' because it was less stressful?" he asks, half-annoyed.

She hums, "Yeah it was supposed to be" she smiles, leaning over to put her hand on his leg, soothing his knee with her thumb.

He spares her a boyish smile, covering her hand with his and giving a loving squeeze, before moving it to the gearstick to move off again.

It's not such a bad place to be lost. The sun is slowly starting to set, the pink and orange sky beginning to bloom at the horizon. He drives quietly, the minivan a little clunkier than his usual Vauxhall, shifting between the gears clumsily, not used to the stiffness between them.

The sign to Port Isaac zips by quickly and when she looked over the windscreen, she could see how the sea reflected the warmth of the imminent sunset. The air was warm and cosy, with a slight nip to the skin as the evening approached. But all the same, it was tranquil and almost painfully serene.

The country roads were narrow and quiet. A weekday meaning there wasn't a soul about, and with the school holidays months away, it was pleasantly calm.

She looked over when Billy sighed and rubbed his eyes, just wanting to be in the Airbnb they'd booked to be in bed as soon as possible. His clutch foot was starting to kill and she could tell he was getting irritated, having driven for hours before this point.

She pressed her lips together, eyes glimmering with mischief.

"Pull over there" she said, pointing over the dashboard to a passing point.

Billy tapped the brakes, looking over, "Here?"

"Yeah, pull over"

The only sound was the click of his indicator as Billy pulled in, tugging the handbrake up.

Through the windscreen, the view of the sea was visible, stretching out past the greenery of the nearby empty fields. The blades of grass swayed gently in the breeze of the late afternoon.

She clicked off her seatbelt and sat forwards, leaning over to see the view better, "nice, isn't it?"

Billy looked confused at her, wondering why she'd asked him to park up just for a glance at the view they'd be seeing for the next few days anyway.

He shrugged, "Yeah, it's…nice"

She bit her lip lightly and shuffled over, flinging her leg over his lap to straddle him. For a moment, Billy didn't know what to do with his hands, as they hung in the air. But once she sat atop him, his hands rested at her hips, looking up at her questioningly.

Fairly quickly though, as her inner thighs brushed his bulge, his face lit up with a smile, tugging her hips down to circle against his pelvis.

"I like this view better though" he added, barely above a gruff whisper. She swatted his shoulder playfully to draw attention away from the way her cheeks were warming, earning a half-hearted chuckle from him.

Their relationship had always felt so natural. At the beginning, Billy had been a bit reserved, not wanting to take things any further than he felt she was comfortable with. He’d never classed himself as particularly good with women, nor at being able to tell what they wanted or were thinking.

He was one of those guys who thought that growing up, women somehow knew more about him than he did, and that when he met women of a similar age to him, that they were more mature than he was, knew more about the world, and were already so wise beyond their years.

She never held that against him.

In fact, she found it endearing that Billy would think of her so deeply in this way. That he took it slow, for himself as well as her, as neither of them had felt so close to a person like this romantically. And both of them didn’t want to ruin that by hurtling themselves headlong into it without thinking.

In the last few months though? Something just…happened.

When she held him, Billy felt as if she were holding his heart in her hands, cradling it like it was precious.

And it hurt in the most beautiful way.

Nobody had ever treated him with such sincerity and care. But she did.

He never wanted to let that go.

Their love was languid, like they had all the time in the world and felt they didn’t need to rush, allowing things to develop naturally.

He loved that about her.

She leaned forward to kiss him tenderly, the setting sun glowing on the right side of his face, illuminating the stubble that gathered at his jaw in blonde little wisps. As she smoothed her hands along it, the blunt, not-so-freshly shaven hair rubbed comfortingly along her palms. She watched his baby blue eyes slip shut, joining her efforts and pressing his mouth to hers, his tongue dipping against hers to slip into her mouth, tilting his head opposite to her.

His thumbs pressed into her hips, moving her in slow, careful motions on top of him as he kissed her like he wanted to devour her entirely. Every now and then, with the wet smack of their lips parting for air, his hands wandered to her bare thighs, beneath the thin material of her skirt. And when he gripped the flesh there hard, he reveled in her short, airy gasps into his mouth, and moaned lowly as she pressed herself harder onto his growing erection.

His large hands wandered up, and he pulled away for a second, his cheeks pink with both shock and excitement.

“Have you not been wearing knickers this whole time?”

She only smiled in reply, dipping her head to his jaw in little micro-kisses, “Maybe. Why? Is that a problem?”

A shuddered breath was the only thing that managed to slip from his lips, as one of her hands traced the hard length constrained within his jeans.

Somehow he managed to say something, “ - fuck - no, no, not a problem at all, baby -”

His hips began to chase her touch as she stroked him teasingly through the denim. She leaned back a little, having left a little love-bite on the sensitive skin of his neck, to watch his reaction to what little she was doing to him.

His eyes fluttered halfway open when he re-doubled her efforts to unzip his jeans, undoing the button and pulling the fabric apart, his mouth doing something similar, only half-open with a whisper of breaths pouring out.

He looked at her, the sunset casting warm rays either side of her, like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

It wasn’t quick, but there was hunger. And the longer either of them stretched it out, the more each of them wanted it, but daren’t not do anything fast or rash to ruin the precious moment they’d made together.

"Please babe, don't tease me -"

Billy's stomach muscles tense when she circles her hand around him, already half hard, and pulls his length free from his boxers, shuffling forward to straddle his lap a little closer.

He doesn't know what he prefers more, the way her hand pumps him, squeezing slightly at the tip where he's most sensitive, or the way her features and skin are illuminated by the soft sun, casting a soft gleam against the sea.

"So needy" she coos, stroking him entirely to full hardness.

She takes him in with her eyes like a meal, watching the way his skin reacts to her touch. The way his cockhead pokes out from her grip, red and alert, sweeping the arousal that leaks from it with her thumb, which serves to send a full body shiver through Billy's body.

"But I suppose you've been good" she smiles at him, her breath hot against his cheek. He tries to chase her lips with his, desperate for any contact, but he groans in disapproval when she keeps moving away.

She hovers over him, his length in her hand and guiding him to her centre, where she's been entirely ready for him since the moment they got in the car. Mischievously having had this idea the entire journey here.

She sighs in delight when his length disappears inside her, the stretch a welcome one, enveloping him completely in her wet warmth. His mouth hangs open, no sound coming out, his hands rising upwards to her waist and then her breasts in desperation to do something, anything to her as well.

Her breath hitches when his hips move and his cock throbs inside her when he bottoms out, briefly touching her cervix in what she can only describe is surprise. He's much longer than any partner she's had before, and whenever they fuck it's always paramount she's prepared, so that they don't have to hold back.

But she's been ready for hours.

"Billy-"

"Oh my god - babe - you're fucking perfect -"

It's all he's able to say.

Praising her. It just comes so naturally.

Because that's what she is to him.

Absolutely entirely perfect.

His hand grabs her bare hip beneath her skirt for leverage, using it to move her hips on top of him. The slightest fit of friction has both of them moan softly into their open mouths.

The sheer sound of her sex being thrusted into slowly is enough to fill the silence.

"Christ, you're so wet, baby -"

Any notion of dominance she felt over him is completely dissipating now with the micro-movements of his cock spearing her apart.

He feels dirty looking down and watching the way he disappears inside her, but it's just too tempting. Billy watches, pride rolling in his stomach as he breathes, as each time he pulls out of her she glazes him with her arousal, coating the inside of her thighs only slightly.

The inside of the car is hot, and with one of her hands on the window for stability, it's starting to fog up as well, her steady moans rising in volume with each snap of her buttocks against his thighs.

It's a good job it's a weekday, and the roads are quiet, so that nobody can see the erratic movement of the rented minivan.

"Fuck - Billy-"

He grins. He doesn't know if he will ever get tired of hearing her moan his name.

" - you need to stop saying my name like that, I'll cum too quickly, baby -" he whispers.

Her misty eyes meet his, her face contorted in pleasure as the coil winds impossibly tight in her belly.

Billy leans forward, briefly slipping deeper inside her, making her moan helplessly. He tightens his hold on her hips, moving her backwards and forwards as well as up and down on his length, watching as she tilts her head back and a melody of gasps and sighs slip from her mouth.

" - yeah, right there, baby? -" he whispers, "- fuck, you look so gorgeous like this - want to cum in you-"

"Yes, yes - Billy, fuck - please don't stop-"

His shuffling of her hips back and forth has the head of his cock bully that sweet spot inside, quickly fucking up into her with a wet smack that only seem to increase in speed and volume.

He can tell she's close, so his thumb trails down over her belly to rub her clit in tight, small circles, now slick with her arousal. She tightens around him, holding him inside her, until she falls off the edge with a strangled cry of his name.

True to his word, he doesn't stop, even as her pussy is fluttering around him in the throes of her intense orgasm. He fucks her through it, searching for his but also loving the way her face twists in sheer pleasure at the overstimulation.

Her heartbeat thrums through her, all to her bud, which Billy hasn't given up on, and he swears he can feel every beat through her as he fucks her.

Billy thrusts shallowly as he finishes deep inside her with a long, strained groan. She moans loudly feeling his warmth inside the deepest parts of her, moving her hips on him to gain that last bit of friction before he softens within her.

After he's caught his breath, feeling a sheen of sweat covering his skin, he looks up and feels that all he can do is smile at her.

The sun is barely visible above the sea anymore, and the pinkish tint of the days passed illuminates her form with a glow that seems almost heavenly. If his cock weren't deep inside her, he'd think she were a saint or an angel.

Looking down through hooded eyes, she smiles back at him lovingly, her breasts moving steadily as she calms the erratic beating of her heart.

"Think we'll get the deposit back?..." she laughs exhaustedly, earning the same reaction from Billy.

She was always funny.

Billy sighs, his palms now soothing where he'd gripped her so hard earlier.

"Not sure if I saw the clause about shagging in the hire van" he jokes back, happy that he got the same reaction.

Their foreheads, tacky from the effort, press together.

Her fingers run through his sandy hair, thumbs stroking his cheeks appreciatively.

Her mouth a whisper away from his.

"I quite like Port Isaac" he smiles boyishly against her lips.

"But, Christ, I fucking love you"

dividers by @saradika

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard | @blairfox04 | @hb8301 | @jamespotterismydaddy | @nenelysian | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires | @risefallrise | @theoneeyedprince | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya | @urmomsgirlfriend1 | @valeskafics | @watercolorskyy

Billy W Taglist: @fan-goddess @assortedseaglass @chainsawsangel

[mockerycrow]

REV ON THE REDLINE (Roommate!Gaz x GN!Reader)

roommate!gaz masterlist — gaz picture credit/source

summary; the first time you were in the car with Kyle was a memorable one. — Kyle is 17/18 in this fic, so the year range is 2011-2014. — 708 words

[WARNINGS; slight heartache, good memories, missing gaz hours.]

WHEN YOU would mention coming to visit Kyle, he absolutely demanded that he would take you on drives with him; in his words, it was a “necessity”. You always laughed—you knew he had a car, worked real hard for it himself and you knew he was proud of it, as this car was his first big purchase. You didn’t see any pictures of the car during your conversations as Kyle claimed you needed to see “the beauty in person”. You imagined yourself pushing the side of his head annoyedly from his stubbornness, making you laugh a bit harder than usual.

What you did not expect is when he came to pick you up from the airport, he arrived in a shiny red convertible. A “2004 Cadillac XLR” is what Kyle said. The interior was well taken care of, the seats were nice and you admit the area surrounding the gear knob being wood was an.. Interesting choice—Kyle told you to take that back, being possessive of his car—but he helped you put his bags in the trunk, and told you to hop in with his classic grin you’ve never gotten sick of.

“Better buckle up, love.” Kyle smirked whilst he clicked in his own seatbelt and adjusted his overhead mirror. You made a face while trying to hold in your laugh which he looked at you and tsk’d, and he swat your arm with the back of his hand. “C’mon, let me have a bit of fun, yeah?” Kyle uttered, which caused you to laugh. You buckled yourself into the passenger’s seat and he started his car. 

He turned his headlights on as it was night time and he pulled out of the airport parking lot. You turned on the radio, but you didn’t turn it up too loud. You glanced at him a couple of times as he drove down the road with a mischievous expression; one that widened each time you looked at him. “Kyle..” You said, your voice laced with a warning tone. “What?” Kyle laughed, his thumb tapping against the steering wheel to the beat of the song that was on—it was Foxey Lady by Jimi Hendrix if you recall right—and you pursed your lips together. “I’m not doin’ anything, sweets.”

You raised an eyebrow and let out an “mhm”, where you clearly did not believe him. The wind blew against your skin as the car went down twists and turns. The car began to slow, approached a red light, pulling up beside another car. You don’t remember the car’s brand, but you do remember that Kyle pointed the car out to you. A familiar song started to play on the radio and your eyes widened when you heard Kyle’s deep chuckle, and you watched as his hand grabbed his gear knob. Your heart dropped to your stomach because he was going to do what he told you he would. 

“Kyle, I sweAR TO GOD—” You yell the light turned green, and Kyle bursted out laughing as he revved the car to the redline. What scared you worse is that the car you were next to did the exact same thing. You’re suddenly slammed into your seat as the car takes off down the long stretch of road, which caused you to swear and you desperately grabbed onto anything and everything. “Kyle, ohmygod, you son of a bitch—” You snarled out of fear as you looked in your side mirror, the other car’s headlights rapidly leaving your view. Kyle couldn’t stop laughing as his engine roared, but you were sure your heart was pounding louder than his damn car. 

This is one luxury you don’t really have anymore now that Kyle’s in the military. He’s gone all the time. Yes, he still owns that old, red convertible—but it’s in a storage unit. Your heart hurts when the familiar song plays on the radio because you know he’s across the goddamn world and isn’t with you to laugh about him scaring the everliving shit out of you.

You pull up into a gated parking lot that held storage units, singing along to the song that’s playing on your radio. “Hear my motor screamin’ while I’m tearin’ up the street..”

[fleckficgirl]

Heartthrob | Arthur Fleck x reader 💗 CHAPTER 14

Summary: Attempting to conceal her checkered past, a young dancer in Gotham (Y/N) lands a job at Ha-Ha’s and finds herself increasingly drawn to a shy, lonely clown named Arthur Fleck.

Warnings: sex, age gap, language, violence, mental illness, assault

Word Count: 3438

Chapter List: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Wayne Manor stood on a huge, sprawling estate. Living in Gotham made it easy to forget that places like this existed in the world. The trees were greener. The streets were so clean, they almost sparkled. There were no sirens, no smell of rotting garbage, no hunched over zombies stumbling in the streets. This part of Long Island was like a little eden - a heaven on earth carved out and carefully guarded by the ultra wealthy. 

“This is it,” you breathed as you and Arthur approached the gates. Fortunately, there were no angry dobermans prowling about the grounds today. Only freshly-trimmed grass and the towering mansion in the distance. You wondered if anyone was even home. 

Suddenly, Arthur froze in his tracks. “Y/N?” 

“Yeah?” 

He turned to face you, shoving his hands into his pockets, throwing his eyes to the ground.

“What do you think he’ll say?”

Your heart broke for Arthur all over again. You couldn’t imagine all the emotions that must be careening through him right now.  

“Thomas Wayne?” you drew in a breath. “I guess I don’t know what he’ll say. But we’re gonna get an answer out of him one way or another.” 

“I just…” Arthur sighed. “I just want him to talk to me. You don’t think that’s too much to ask, is it?”

You reached out and stroked Arthur’s cheek. 

“I don’t think so,” you shook your head. “After all, you said your mother’s been writing to him all this time and she hasn't gotten a response. I’m sure the Waynes have people who handle their correspondence - maybe they’ve ignored it or maybe nothing’s gotten through yet. Either way, I know I’d do the same thing if I were in your shoes.”

Arthur looked up at you. Those arresting, green eyes: filled with hope, hurt, anticipation. You said a silent prayer in that moment that whatever happened next, Arthur got the answers he needed. The answers he fucking deserved. 

Arthur pulled his hands out of his pockets and clasped them over your wrist. “I’m so glad you’re here, Y/N. If I had to come all by myself, I don’t think I’d have the guts to-”

He stopped, his eyes catching hold of something in the distance.

“What is it?” You turned around. Nothing had moved or changed that you could see. It took you a minute of scanning the surroundings until, finally, you spotted him: a tiny, sad-looking little boy playing all alone on a wooden jungle gym near the front gates. He couldn’t have been more than eight or nine years old. 

“I think that’s his son,” you murmured. “I heard about him a couple times in the news.”

“Bruce Wayne,” Arthur said. 

“That’s right, Bruce.” You stared at the boy, mystified. There was a distinct melancholy and isolation you could feel radiating off of him, even from so far away. 

“He looks so…so…” You struggled to find the words.

“Alone.” 

You pursed your lips and looked back at Arthur, nodding. And then another realization dawned on you. 

“Oh my God,” you blinked. “If Thomas Wayne really is your father, then that would mean…”

Arthur swallowed, nodding. “I’ve thought about that, too. I know it sounds crazy, but now that I see him…I…”

You waited. 

“He reminds me so much of myself when I was a little boy.” 

“Oh shit,” you exhaled, looking back at Bruce, then back at Arthur. “I mean…I suppose given what your mother’s said…what do you wanna do, Arthur?” 

Arthur took a deep breath and to your surprise, a warm, gently confident smile began to spread across his face. 

“I’m gonna go say ‘hi.’”

“Do you want me to come with you?” You wanted Arthur to feel completely supported. You knew that sometimes being supportive looked like coming along, and other times it looked more like hanging back and letting the other person take the lead. 

“I think I should do this part myself,” he said. “But I’ll come get you if I need to.” 

“I’ll be right here,” you squeezed his hand. “I love-”

Wait, what the hell were you saying? Had you completely taken leave of your senses?

“Uhm,” you cleared your throat. “I love…waiting!” you finished brightly, hoping he’d buy it. “I’ll wait as long as you need and I’ll be right here. Be strong, okay? And if they give you any trouble, call me and…I’ll beat everyone up!”

Arthur smiled, lifted your hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it, sending chills through your entire being. If he’d somehow picked up on your almost-love-confession, he didn’t show it. 

Arthur already has enough on his mind right now, you chastised yourself as you watched him approach the gate. He doesn’t need you muddling it further with your irrational emotions. 

You couldn’t tell Arthur you loved him now. First of all, it was way too soon. 

Second of all…

Well, the second part was embarrassing. And more than a little crazy. You knew your feelings for Arthur were real, but that didn’t stop you from recognizing how intense they were after only knowing him a short time. 

So why, then, did it feel like the most natural thing to say? The thing you sensed he needed to hear?

You meandered further up the drive, away from the entrance, giving Arthur his space but staying close enough so you could quickly run to his side if necessary. 

It was startlingly quiet here compared to the endless cacophony of Gotham City. So quiet, it felt like if you stopped and listened carefully, you could hear the wind in the trees singing to you. 

Despite the peaceful surroundings, however, bitter memories began to weave their way into your mind. You knew a good faction of your former GU classmates hailed from this part of Long Island - hell, some of their families probably even rubbed elbows with the Waynes themselves: probably got invited to their fancy Christmas and New Year’s Eve parties, toasting their continued privilege and fortune over a bottle of champagne that cost more than you made in a month. 

You didn’t have anything in common with those people. So how on earth had you found yourself among them in the first place? 

The answer was almost annoyingly simple: your parents had drilled the importance of getting an education into you since you were a toddler, telling you it would open doors, get you the better life you deserved…unlike the two of them who’d gotten jobs straight out of high school and lamented nonstop how much the lack of a college education had held them back from their potential. 

“Potential,” you muttered to yourself under your breath. That was the word they’d always used and it still left a sour taste in your mouth. 

“You have so much potential, Y/N,” they’d always say. “But you can’t let it go to waste. You have to work three times as hard as everyone else in order to realize it.”  

You’d believed them - bought their promises hook, line and sinker and dutifully applied yourself like the good little girl you were. The truth was, you’d never quite fit in at Burnley High, either. Most of the kids there dropped out or phoned in the bare minimum to scoot by and pick up a diploma, but you’d been among the top five performers in your graduating class of over 400 students. You’d done the extra work, taken the hardest classes, stayed home and sacrificed any semblance of a normal teenage social life to mold yourself into the high-achieving student your family wanted you to be. 

And it had paid off. At least for a brief moment in time. When the letter from Gotham University arrived saying you’d gotten in with a full scholarship, you’d cried tears of joy. Your mother had cried. Your father said he was proud of you. He never said things like that.

You remembered back to that day: the teary-eyed seventeen year old girl holding an acceptance letter in her sweaty, trembling hands like a golden badge of honor. That badge represented everything you’d worked your entire life for, everything you’d ever wanted: Validation. Recognition. Belonging.

Belonging. Yes, back then, that same girl believed she was finally being admitted through the golden gates to a place she belonged. You’d been naive enough to assume that at college you’d encounter more people like yourself, people who came from nothing but made amazing things happen through hard work and belief in themselves. 

But Gotham U had been nothing like you’d expected. 

Yes, the students were bright, but the vast majority were also spoiled and entitled. They seemed to take their enrollment at the school for granted, and the fact that their parents paid their tuition in full (were able to pay it in the first place) didn’t in any way accelerate their work ethic. These were kids whose parents owned country houses, summer houses and yachts. Kids who went to horseback riding camp every summer since they were six, learned how to ski when they were four, took vacations over spring break to places like Paris or Barcelona or the Hamptons. 

You’d never even ridden on an airplane. 

How ignorant that girl with the acceptance letter was, you mused. The dream of being a student at Gotham University had powered everything you’d worked for the first 17 years of your life…and all too late turned into a horrible nightmare. 

“Potential.” What did it mean now? Of course, your parents were still holding out hope you’d eventually return to GU. But GU was just like the Waynes themselves: they wanted to portray themselves as a beacon of magnanimity and altruism, but when it came to actually stepping up and doing the right thing, their interests lay solely with themselves and their ability to maintain wealth and power. When the cards were down, a poor scholarship girl from Burnley High didn’t qualify for basic human consideration. And your biggest mistake was believing that they ever would. 

After all the unpleasantness that had occurred towards the end of your first year - the school’s administration “generously” forcing you to take medical leave or be expelled - you’d started to believe you didn’t belong anywhere. You didn’t see a future for yourself anymore. And feeling this way not only made you incredibly sad, but it scared you. 

But all that had started to change since meeting Arthur. Arthur, you imagined, who right now was probably feeling the same way you had on the first day of freshman orientation: Hoping, with the most optimistic part of his heart, that he just might find the love and acceptance he’d yearned for for so long.  

But was life on the other side of those golden gates all that Arthur imagined it could be? 

Suddenly, you felt extremely protective of him. You knew it was inappropriate to eavesdrop, but who were you kidding? Just the thought of Arthur going through something similar to your experience at that school was unthinkable. You tiptoed closer - not close enough to be spotted, but close enough to give yourself the best chance of overhearing…well, spying. 

“Bruce! What are you doing?” Another man’s voice shot out accusingly over the quiet. “Get away from that man.”

Shit. Not good. Your heart started to race. 

Please, you prayed, please don’t be assholes. 

You realized almost immediately how useless such a plea was. These were the Waynes, after all. 

“It’s okay,” you heard Arthur respond. “I’m a good guy.”

Resisting the urge to race to Arthur’s side took every inch of self control in your body. You reminded yourself that he’d wanted to do this alone. You wanted to respect that. Arthur could hold his own. He was a strong person, deep down. And dealing with rudeness was nothing he wasn’t accustomed to.

But if they were complete assholes to him, you didn’t know how much you could tolerate. 

You crept even closer, still hidden behind the giant shrubs that surrounded the estate. The other voice couldn’t belong to Thomas Wayne, you reasoned. Thomas Wayne didn’t have an English accent.  

“Can you tell Mr. Wayne that I need to see him?” Arthur asked. 

At that moment, the wind picked up, compromising your ability to hear as clearly as before. You cursed under your breath, cupping your hand to your ear. 

“...your mother was a sick woman,” you heard the other man say to Arthur in the coldest, most unfeeling tone imaginable. “She was delusional.”

Your jaw dropped. Your right hand fell from your ear and twisted reflexively into a fist. 

“Don’t say that,” you growled under your breath. 

Exactly who the fuck did these people think they were? Couldn’t they put themselves in another person’s shoes for just one fucking second? If the roles were reversed, wouldn’t they want the same answers? Didn’t everyone deserve that? 

Deep breaths, Y/N, you told yourself. Deep breaths. 

“Just go,” the man’s cruel, disdainful voice echoed up the drive. “Before you make a bigger fool of yourself.” 

That did it. Fuck the deep breaths. Fuck taking the high road. And fuck this rude asshole.

The entire world blurred into raging red as you found yourself barreling like a fiery cannonball down the drive to Arthur’s side, ready to fight, to climb those gates like an acrobat and beat the living hell out of that asshole - any anyone else who wanted some, too. 

How dare he talk to Arthur Fleck, your Arthur Fleck, that way? 

When you rounded the corner, you were surprised and more than a little satisfied to see that Arthur had already reached through the gates and grabbed the dude by his collar, holding him in a semi-chokehold. 

“Kick his ass!” you cried out. “Kick his motherfucking ass!” 

The rude man’s eyes darted to you, filled with surprise, confusion, fear. And the inability to utter another word for lack of oxygen. 

Good.

You pulled your right arm back and swung through the gates with all your strength, punching him square across the face while Arthur held him in place. The man’s nose started bleeding and you smiled. Your anger made you strong, increased your strength exponentially in the moments you needed it most. Though you’d never admit it to anyone, it was one of the things you actually liked about this part of yourself that you were supposed to reject, to work so hard to rid yourself of. 

You liked feeling strong in a world where everyone was more than happy to step and walk all over you without a second thought. And you were tired of pretending you didn’t.

Arthur was a slight, diminutive man, but his anger made him strong, too. He had the asshole so tight by the collar, it looked like his face was turning red. 

You were winding up, about to strike again when you suddenly registered the face of the sad little boy from before. Standing off to the side, he was now a very scared-looking little boy; frozen like a little Bambi fawn, eyes wide, terrified. 

Terrified…of you. Of the both of you. 

Those bewildered eyes were enough to stop you in your tracks. All at once, common sense and empathy rushed back into your heart like an ocean wave. As much as this surly jackass deserved a beatdown, you knew you’d never forgive yourself for permanently traumatizing a defenseless little kid. 

Even if he was a Wayne. 

As though he’d come to the same realization at the same exact moment, Arthur released the man just as you stopped yourself from throwing another, harder, right hook. The jerk fell backwards, clutching at his crumpled collar, and Arthur grabbed your arm. Without exchanging a word, you raced back up the drive together, running like two gazelles as fast as your feet could carry you. 

The next few minutes were a continued blur. Wayne Manor receded further and further into the background as you drew closer to the train station. You’d been too afraid to turn back and see if anyone was chasing you, but by now the adrenaline was wearing off, and your legs felt like they could give out at any second. 

“Arthur, wait!” you stopped, breathlessly, reaching out to grab him by the sleeve. Mustering up the courage to look back, you were relieved to see you hadn’t been followed. You’d managed to escape by the skin of your teeth. 

“I think we’re in the clear,” you gasped for air. 

Arthur stopped and turned to face you, panting. “Are you alright, Y/N? Are you hurt?” 

“I’m fine,” you shook your head. “I’m so sorry, Arthur. This is all my fault.”

A confused look came across his face and he took both your hands into his. “What do you mean?”

“I went crazy again. I werewolfed! I didn’t mean to, it's just…” your eyes filled with tears, realizing all too late of course, that the last thing you’d wanted in accompanying Arthur today was to do anything that would ultimately result in making it harder for him to get the answers he needed. 

How could you have let this happen? 

Arthur held up a hand to stop you. “I went crazy first,” he pointed out. 

“Well, yeah, you grabbed the guy,” you conceded. “But I’m the one who made his nose bleed, for God’s sake! I never would’ve done it if I knew the kid was watching.” You shook your head, tears filling your eyes. “I shouldn’t have gotten involved…”

“No, Y/N,” Arthur squeezed your hands in his. “I’m glad you were there. I didn’t wanna scare the little boy, either. Seeing him brought me back to myself. I know what it’s like to be scared at that age…scared and helpless…”

Arthur’s words made the tears you’d been fighting swell over and you fell into his arms. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. Shh, come here.” Arthur pulled you into a tight embrace against his chest. 

“I didn’t mean to scare him,” you sobbed into his shoulder. “I’m a bad person, Arthur. I’m awful.”

“That’s not true!” he protested. “Why are you saying that?”

He stepped back and tried to look you in the eye, but you were too ashamed to face him. The mean, inner voice you’d suffered with in secret since you were a little kid had taken over and had you in its iron grip of shame:

You don’t deserve to be loved.

You’re defective.

You’re worthless.

You’re awful. 

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Arthur whispered into your hair. “I understand. I understand what you’re feeling. But it’s not true. Whatever you’re telling yourself right now is not true.” 

You cried harder into his embrace. You might have known he’d understand. You’d found the one person in the world who felt what you felt - or at least the one person brave enough to admit to it. 

“Please don’t cry, Y/N.” You could feel Arthur’s heart pounding against your ears. “You're not a bad person,” he murmured into your hair. “You’re anything but a bad person.”

“But I messed everything up. Like I always do.”

“You stopped yourself from taking things further,” Arthur pointed out. “We both did. That means something.” 

“But how are you gonna find out if Thomas Wayne’s your father now?” you wailed. “How are you gonna get your answers?”

“We’ll figure something out,” Arthur reassured you. “I don’t want you worrying about that.”

Arthur brought his hands to your face, cradling it. You looked up into his shining, green eyes, tenderness emanating from them. His fingers gently stroked back your hair, wiped away your tears. 

“You need to breathe, Y/N. Can you take a deep breath?”

He breathed with you. In and out. And in and out again. Finally, you felt your pulse begin to slow, the maddening blur of self-hatred and negative vitriol shift from a wild gallop to a trot. It was a small change, but enough to allow you to start feeling human again. 

Arthur stepped back and a small, shy smile spread across his face. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said. 

You wiped your nose, bewildered. “‘Thank you’? For what?” 

“For coming here with me. For standing up for me the way you have. No one’s ever done anything like that for me before.”

“But, Arthur, I-”

“If you hadn’t been there for me, I’d be all alone right now,” he interjected. “Like I’ve been all my life. But I’m not alone anymore. Because of you.”

His shy smile shifted into a sly grin. He placed a soft kiss on your cheekbone. 

“I love you, too,” he whispered, before tenderly bringing his mouth to yours. 

Thank you for reading and for all the sweet, encouraging comments! I have struggled to write this as of late, but I'm committed to finishing this story and can't wait to share the rest of it with you. I hope you enjoy this latest chapter.

xx fleckficgirl

💗 Tag List (lmk if you want to be added!): @fallon779 @mama-ferret-art @cherryboss713 @lolwey @jokeringcutio @luckypurins @fruitcupsworld @skaravile @filmsandlovers

💗Master List

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 31: A/B/O with Cooper Howard/The Ghoul

Pairing: Alpha!Cooper Howard/The Ghoul X Omega!Fem!Reader Word Count: 4119 Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics (and everything that entails), P in V, Mean!Cooper to Soft!Cooper, Mention of Cannon typical violence, Fingering (F receiving), Doggy style, Pet names.

Kinktober 2024 Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

Traveling with Cooper isn’t what one would call easy or simple.

The man has a metric shit-ton of enemies, half of which have very valid reasons to hate him.

In the roughly five months you two have traveled together, a partnership born of convenience and a little bit of necessity, though he’d never admit to needing you, you have been shot at, and actually shot once, stabbed, blown up, and irradiated once when he forgot that walking through a radstorm wasn’t something humans can safely do.

Yet somehow you find yourself not hating him, especially when he actually seems to feel bad for all those instances, only half of which were actually his fault.

At first, he just offered lame apologies, but after the first month he started taking it upon himself to patch you up, his strong scent filling your nose and making your skin prickle.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t drawn to him, and not just for all the ‘nature’ reasons. He wasn’t hard on the eyes, and when he wasn’t being an asshole, he wasn’t so bad, funny even.

Oh yea, that’s the other part.

He’s an Alpha.

And you an Omega.

Not that he knows that bit about you, which is by design as you take great strides to keep your secondary gender hidden, not just from him but from everyone.

Being an Omega in a semi-safe town is dangerous enough, but being an Omega that travels a lot is practically a death sentence.

You suppose that’s why your family of Alpha’s and Beta’s kicked you out when you presented as a teen. It’s a miracle that nothing has happened since then.

Cooper however is under the impression that you’re just a jumpy Beta.

Every time you two get to a town, you split off to go on the hunt for suppressants. Post-war ones work best, but pre-war ones were just as good in a pinch.

This was one such day.

You had run out a week ago, and seeing as you’ve been on them pretty much 24/7 for your entire adult life it means you can already feel the heat of impending doom on the back of your neck.

Cooper walked ahead of you a couple paces, not for any reason other than him being taller and not caring if you fall behind, you’ll catch up eventually.

The rickety metal gates of the town, “Saintstown” the sign on top of it reads, open as you approach and Cooper doesn’t hesitate to walk in, the guards eyeing the pair of you warily.

Once inside the Ghoul turned and threw a small pouch at you. “Get us more food while you go chem hunting or whatever it is you do…” He grumbled, not looking at you, but rather as his gloved hand as he adjusted the material lazily.

After the first two times he watched you get fidgety before getting to a town to disappear and come back cool as a radcumber, he started to assume you were just a functional junkie, which wasn’t necessarily wrong.

He wasn’t one to judge, he was worse than you could ever be.

The man was a walking pharmacy with all the shit in his system on the average day.

“Uh, right.” You managed as you nearly fumbled the pouch, the rattle of caps inside. “Any preferences?”

He lifted the space where a brow would be if he had them as if to say, “What do you think?”

Right, he doesn’t give a shit. Ass-jerky, case and point.

Nodding, you turned and walked away in search of the market, thankfully there were signs posted pretty much everywhere.

Finding the local doctor wasn’t hard, he had a small booth and a locked chest with a big red cross painted on it.

“I need meds.” You said as you approached.

“Gonna have to be a lot more specific, girly.” He answered as he used a filthy rag to clean a scalpel.

Leaning in you lowered your voice. “I need suppressants. As many as you can spare.”

His eyes finally flicked over to you, looking you up and down carefully. He was older, probably in his 50s, and seemed the caring type if a bit bored. “When was the last time you rode out a heat?” He asked as he stood and came closer so you wouldn’t have to strain to hear each other.

You gnawed at your lip and looked away like a child that knows she’s about to be scolded. “A few years.” You answered and he sighed.

“You need to take a break; these things are going to hurt you.” He warned but turned to the chest anyway.

“I know. But it’s not really an option right now.” Your answer was frustrated but more at the situation rather than his warning. You were well aware of the dangers.

The lid of the chem chest creaked as it opened and he reached in, moving a couple things around before pulling out a small stack of metal tins and coming back to you.

“How long will you be in town?” He asked, looking at you over his cracked glasses.

You sighed. “I think you can understand why I’m not about to answer that question.” You said with a lifted brow.

He nodded and held out the stack of tins. “Twenty caps per tin, 50 pills per tin.”

Your heart dropped. That would set you up for months, but you only had enough caps for one tin. The temptation to use the caps Cooper gave you was strong, but that was a bad idea.

That money was for food, and he would be able to tell if there were too few caps for too little food.

“I can only afford one.” You said as you pulled your own cap bag out.

The doctor nodded and set the extras aside as he waited for you to count out his pay.

The trade off was made and you shoved the tin into your duster pocket until you could pack it safely into your backpack.

“If you come across more caps, these’ll still be here.” He said with a sympathetic look before turning away to return the meds to the chest.

“Thanks.” You said before going on your way.

Getting the food was easy, there were several vendors with preserved food and packaged goods for sale, and with some scrap left from your travels you were able to barter for a good deal on the provisions.

Finding Cooper again wasn’t hard, he stood out.

A tall, imposing, mean looking Ghoul is a bit hard to miss in a town of humans that skittered around like they expected him to lash out at any moment.

They weren’t wrong but still.

He was lounging at a table outside what looked like the local eatery, a beer in one hand and his hat hung in front of his eyes.

As you approached you were nearly knocked on your ass by a kid running into you.

Shoving the kid back from you carefully, so as not to knock him down, you looked down at his filthy face. “Watch it, kid.” You warned sternly, he should be happy it was you and not Cooper he ran into.

“Sorry!” Then he was gone.

“Get what we came for?” Cooper asked as he appeared in front of you.

“Yeah. Hope you like Pork and Beans. It was the cheapest thing I could find.” You answered as you tossed him the cap pouch.

He caught it without looking, cocky bastard, and nodded. “Good. Let’s get outta here.” Then he was turning back to the gates and making long strides, not bothering to make sure you were following.

“‘Let’s stay the night, kid’” You muttered, mimicking his voice. “‘Nah, Coop, let’s get back on the road. We got shit to do.’” You said in your own voice. “‘If you’re sure’. ‘I’m sure.’”

“You gonna keep talking to yourself like a batshit or are you comin?” He called over his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah…” You grumbled as you sped up your gait.

He walked until long after dark, and the town was far behind you, barely a speck on the horizon behind you.

When you finally stopped for the night, you felt feverish and clammy, assumably from all the time spent in the blistering wasteland sun.

The old Red Rocket station he chose for the night was thankfully mostly intact, even had glass still in the windowsills, so barricading the doors was an easy enough task that took barely twenty minutes, and by the time you were done, Cooper had a fire made to stave off the chill of the night.

Exhaustion hit you hard as soon as you settled across the fire from him, and sleep wasn’t going to be fought this time, so you laid down against your pack and let yourself fall asleep, knowing Cooper would be taking first watch either way.

He never lets you take first watch.

Who knows how many hours later, you woke to the feeling of your skin burning and for a moment you feared you’d rolled into the fire, till you felt that telltale twisting in your belly.

Fuck.

With sweating hands, you reached into your duster to the pocket you had tucked it into and found said pocket completely empty.

Flicking your duster open you looked down into it with wide eyes, breaths picking up as you confirmed that it was indeed empty, but before you started to really panic you reached into the opposite pocket and only found your cap bag and a few loose bullets.

Had you already put it in your pack and forgotten?

Reaching for your pack you started digging, trying not to look too freaked out, knowing Cooper would still be awake sitting across from you, but that went out the window as you found only your normal supplies in the bag.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck…” You whimpered, heat rising on your neck, sweat beading on your forehead.

“Lose your new stash?” Coopers voice was like a rock through glass, sounding teasing and maybe a little smug.

“Shut up.” You snapped as you looked around at the ground where you’d been laying, maybe you dropped it while you slept.

He hummed at your response. “Desperation ain’t a good look on you, Sweetheart.” He said, tilting his head as he watched you search.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t care about looking good for you.” You snapped, too busy freaking out.

When could you have lost it?

Then it hit you. The kid.

“That little shit!” You hissed, kicking your backpack in anger.

Even if you could convince him to go back to the town, you didn’t have enough caps for more, and even the doctor wasn’t going to be nice enough to give you a discount.

And you were pretty sure you didn’t have that kind of time anyway, not with the way you felt like you were on fire.

Cooper sighed in annoyance. “Christ, if I’d known this was what you were like without your fix, I never woulda let you come with me.” He grumbled.

“Yeah, that’s not the only reason.” You said without thinking, but your words snapped you into a different panic as soon as you heard them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, sitting up from his previously lounged position.

“Nothing.” You said quickly, looking away from him, trying to act like you were still looking for your lost property.

Behind you, you heard him get up. “What is that supposed to mean?” His voice was slowly getting closer, a step with each word, and you felt your hair stand on end, both because his scent was so strong in your nose right now, and because his voice was like smooth pebbles in your ears.

Danger, but every part of you was drawn to it.

Your breaths were fast as you turned to look at him. He was only a couple of inches away from you.

And judging by the look on his face, he didn’t need you to answer anymore.

He could smell you now.

“You tellin me you’re a fucking Omega?” He growled and you whimpered.

You’re not sure if it was in fear or arousal.

Words lodged in your throat as you looked up at him.

And before you could force them from your lips, he had you by the throat and pressed against the wall.

“Were you ever going to say anything about it? Or were you planning on just going into fucking heat during a firefight?” He asked through gritted teeth.

Your brain felt like it was burning, and all you could think about was how his hand felt on your neck, and how he smelled, and how close he was to you.

“I’m sorry…” You whimpered, tears welling in your eyes and falling when his grip tightened, and your eyes squeezed shut. “I had it under control…”

His lips twitched down as he watched you cower before him, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Yeah, till you went and got robbed.” He hissed.

He looked like he was trying not to breathe too much.

“You’re going into fucking heat right now, aren’t you?” He asked, sounding like he couldn’t decide if he was concerned or mad about it, which was a strange thing to hear in his voice.

You nodded as best you could with his hold on your neck.

At that he let go like you’d burned him, and he let out another growl, this one much deeper in his chest, as he started to pace. “Fuck!” Then he was facing you again. “How long has it been?”

“Years…” You answered, still leaning against the wall, feeling flushed and weak already. Your heats have never started this strong before.

That seemed to piss him off even more, but now the reason was much clearer, he was worried. “Do you have a goddamn death wish?”

“It wasn’t safe.” You reasoned, but it was as weak as your legs felt.

“Neither is not having a heat in years.” He started pacing again, muttering to himself. “Can’t cross the wastes like this…No one for miles…Shit…”

He didn’t need to say it, you both already knew.

He was going to have to help you through it if you wanted to guarantee survival.

And he didn’t look like he was against it so much as hating the circumstances, which was more than a little jarring.

“Coop…” You started but he held up a finger.

“Have you ever had help through a heat before?” He sounded gentler now, still stern but much calmer.

Shaking your head couldn’t look at him. “No.”

“You ever been with an Alpha at all?”

“Once, but he wouldn’t knot me. Some Brotherhood guy I encountered.”

At your words he nodded.

The look on his face spoke volumes. He was mentally preparing to help you, and it made you feel horrifically guilty.

“You don’t have to.” You said quietly. “I can lock myself in the office and stay there till it’s over. You can stay out here or leave. But you don’t have to help me.” You said and he looked at you like he was offended.

“I’m not going to let you suffer alone, and not when it could kill you.” He stalked closer to you as he spoke.

He looked like a completely different man, and you wondered if you were seeing whoever he’d been before he was a Ghoul peeking through.

“Now.” He started. “Sit your ass down and drink some water. You’re going to need it.”

That was the last thing he said before going back over to sit where he’d been before.

Doing the same, you took up your canteen and took a couple long swigs from it, feeling fatigue edging back in.

“I’m gonna try to sleep more.” You said as you laid back down, getting only a hum of acknowledgement in return.

Sleep found you fast, but it was shallow, and your body still felt far too hot.

At one point you woke up to the feeling of being moved and found Cooper taking your duster off.

Managing a grumble of annoyance at being woken he chuckled. “Down girl, just making sure you don’t get heat stroke.” Then you were back out again.

When you woke again for good it felt like you were laying in a pot of boiling water, sweat soaked your clothes, which were heavy and itched at your tingling skin, your eyes were fuzzy and watery, and you could feel a distinct slickness between your legs.

“Cooper?” You rasped, partially fearing he’d changed his mind and abandoned you.

“Right here, Darlin…” He said then you felt the rim of your canteen at your lips. “Nice and slow now.”

The water felt like ice with how hot your mouth and lips were, but it was so nice. “Hurts…” You managed as you tried to tug at your shirt, then your pants, feet kicking at your boots feebly.

“I know, let me.” He said, then his hands were on you, his actual hands, not his gloves.

They felt cool against your skin as he pulled your boots from your feet, then your pants, and finally he helped you sit up and tugged your shirt over your head, leaving you only in your soaked underwear and equally drenched bra, which he helped you out of too when you tried to tug the straps down your arms without success.

“Fuck…Wouldja look at that…” He said as he looked at you, eyes scanning over your body like you were a feast waiting just for him.

You were sure you looked like a mess, and with him so close your glossy eyes could make him out in the haze.

His pupils almost consumed his eyes, his breathing was fast, and his chest was expanding so much with each breath that it made his shirt go a little taut, the sight had you pressing your thighs together, though with all the slick that had gathered there was little friction to be found.

His eyes tracked the movement, and it was like a switch being flipped, his own shirt was pulled free from his pants, which were quickly undone but neither were removed, with made you whine but he shushed you. “You don’t wanna see what’s under all this, Sweetheart…” He whispered before leaning in.

You thought he would go in for a kiss, but instead they met your neck, trailing along your jaw with shocking tenderness, little kisses and nips and licks that made you shiver.

Your hands gripped his shirt collar, pulling him closer, forcing him to reposition between your thighs, allowing you to grind up against him.

“Coop…” You whined as you trailed one hand down his chest till you reached his opened pants, then past the hem till you found what you were looking for.

He was hard, which wasn’t shocking, but his responding shiver sent a bolt through you.

Suddenly you felt stone cold sober. You were about to fuck Cooper.

The man who was to blame for a lot of the misfortune you’d experienced over the last five months.

But he was also the source of a not insignificant amount of fortune.

As quickly as your mind cleared it fogged back over, and you were right back to tugging him closer, now with your legs wrapped over his hips.

Your hand, still wrapped around his thick cock, moved up and down, gathering the pre-cum that was collecting at the tip to spread it down the length.

He let out a quiet groan as you worked him, dipping down to his base to give the raised space where his knot would form a light massage.

At that his hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled your hand away. “You do that, and this’ll be over before I can be any use.” He chided lightly, smirking down at you.

You let out a needy sound and he sat up, moving to flip you but earning an annoyed sound instead as you tried to resist, some primal part of your brain wanting to see him. “This’ll be easier if I’m behind you, Darlin.” He said, using your weakened state and superior strength to carefully turn you over.

In the clear part of your brain, you knew he was right, but the whinny Omega part of your brain you wanted desperately to see his face, to kiss him.

Okay, maybe that last bit was a shared desire, but that was beside the point.

Behind you, Cooper moved around for a moment before you felt him help you sit up a little, slipping your wadded up duster under your head. Your arms wrapped around it immediately like a pillow and you settled on it.

Then cool hands were pulling your panties down your legs, the slick on your thighs had stated to cool uncomfortably and you whined at the sensation, but that whine morphed into a moan as two thick fingers pressed into your cunt.

The ache abated instantly, and your body pressed back into the touch without your input, practically riding his fingers as he curled them, hitting that sweet spot that had your already spinning head turning into a cyclone.

The orgasm snuck up on you entirely.

Your whole body went taut for a moment before descending into shakes as you cried and moaned, it was so good but nowhere near enough.

“Cooper…” You drew out his name, both praise and plead.

Then his chest was pressed to your back, his shirt felt scratchy, and you tried to pull away from the sensation, but then it was gone.

No, not gone, fully unbuttoned so it wasn’t in the way. “I’m right here...” He whispered into your flushed ear, once more sounding like smooth pebbles but now lacking the anger from before.

The head of his cock prodded where you wanted him most, and he didn’t make you wait as he pressed into you, filling you to the brim in one slow thrust.

The base where his knot sat half inflated pressed against your pussy, but he stopped there, letting you get used to the feeling of being so full.

There was an ache of a different kind now, the kind that teetered on the bleeding edge of pleasure, and you tried to press back into it, but his rough hand on your hip kept you still.

“Stay still, let me do all the work.” He ordered before he pulled back only to push back in hard and fast.

The moan it punched out of you was absolutely filthy, and it served to urge him on.

Setting a punishing rhythm, Cooper made no effort to hide that this felt as wonderful for him as it did for you, his voice was rough and raspy as he groaned and growled, his lips pressing to your bare shoulders.

For a moment you wondered if he’d sink his teeth in and claim you, but he never did, instead he pressed his teeth to the spot to make the Omega part of your brain keen.

Each thrust was like a spark to gasolene, igniting every part of your body, and unlike before you could feel the orgasm swelling in your belly.

You tried to vocalize it, warn him it was coming, but with the way his speed increased it seemed he was well aware and didn’t need to be told, especially when it seemed he was right there with you.

In a swift moment he pressed all the way in, causing his knot to press past the barrier of your pussy and lock him to you as you both came screaming.

His name was an incoherent babble as it fell from your lips.

Your name was a low groan as it fell from his.

Heat filled your belly in spurts and your body felt like it finally got exactly what it needed to calm down, the overwhelming fever ebbing and the shaking of your limbs easing.

As you both panted, Cooper shifted you both onto your sides, careful not to tug at the place where you were bound as he went.

Your bundled duster became a shared pillow.

Words didn’t feel needed right then. Even though he hadn’t claimed you, something felt like things were more permanent between you now, like you didn’t need to worry about waking up to him having absconded in the night.

Sleep once more edged at your brain but you tried to resist it, still basking in the afterglow, but when a yawn escaped, he wrapped his arm around you. “Get some sleep, Darlin…”

So, you did.