#i forgot to put the trigger back in when i put it together the first time and only noticed when i tested it and tried to fire and realized

[ariestrxsh]

pervy!bsf!matt x bsf!reader

🔮 content warning: smut, masturbation, getting caught, voyeurism, praise, begging, dirty talk, oral (m & f!receiving)

🔮 summary: matt caught you touching yourself, and despite knowing better, he watches you finish, resulting in him feeling guilty, so he returns the favor and puts on a show for you. a little quid pro quo.

dividers by the one and only @vxnitra

I woke up disoriented and in the dark to someone shifting in the bed next to me, and through my sleepy haze, I remembered I wasn't in my own room. I'd stayed the night with the Sturniolos and had fallen asleep in Nick's bed with him after watching some cheesy scary movie.

I reached over to the nightstand to grab my phone, and I peered at the time through one eye. 1:58 a.m. I also had a text from Matt? It read:

"If you read this before I fall asleep, come downstairs. I wanna show you something I don't think you'll wanna miss. Don't tell Nick or Chris."

I stared down at the cryptic message on my phone and decided to go see what he could possibly mean by that. He had sent it nearly 40 minutes prior, so I couldn't even be sure he was still up. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, but as soon as I took my first step, my foot bumped against something that groaned back at me in response.

"Shit. Sorry," I whispered to Chris, who had fallen asleep on the floor beside me. I carefully stepped over him and tiptoed out into the hall. In case Matt was trying to prank me or scare me, I had to be stealthy. I used the handrail to guide me, and I took my steps strategically down the staircase to keep from triggering any creaky steps. Halfway down the staircase, I stopped.

Matt was nestled into the couch under dim lighting, pants and boxers pulled down mid-thigh, and cock in hand.

Is this what he wanted to show me?

The first thing I noticed was how big it was, so much bigger than I had imagined, especially in thickness, and it was veiny like his arms and hands. His hand moved skillfully and slowly over his length, and he'd pause every few strokes to pay close attention to the head.

I was mesmerized by the pre-cum that glistened as it flowed from his slit. Matt ran his thumb over that wet spot, and he shuddered, and a smile washed over his face as he let out a heavenly sigh. He continued stroking it, rolling his eyes back and relaxing further into the couch.

The way he looked in the soft lighting, the sounds pouring from his mouth like honey, the fact that he was putting on a private show just for me. How did he know this was something I wanted to see? I hadn't told a single soul about the late nights I'd spent lulling myself to sleep with my favorite vibrator to my many fantasies involving Matt, so how could he know?

"Oh fuck," Matt whimpered, teasing his tip again. I heard a few more unintelligible moans, and then my name? Did he just moan my name? Did he have any idea what he was doing to me? Moaning my name, playing with his cock, teasing me with his text. My legs started to grow weak, and I felt a warm wetness forming between my thighs. I started to squeeze my legs together to get some kind of relief from the tension Matt was causing, but the sudden weight shift elicited a loud creek from the stairs beneath me.

Matt looked up at me, but he didn't skip a beat. He kept stroking away, pleasuring himself in front of me. "How long have you been standing there, pretty girl? Is it making you wet to watch me?" He smirked. I descended down the rest of the stairs and yell-whispered, "Matt! What are you doing?!" He still kept going, massaging the head once again, coaxing a few more drops of pre-cum out of his slit as he let out a sweet sound.

"I have to get something off my chest," he whispered. "What is it?" I asked, biting my lip while I watched his hand on his dick. "You remember last week on video chat?" He asked. I nodded. "We both forgot to hang up on our video call, and when I got out of the shower, I could see you, hear you.. what you were doing to yourself while you were moaning my name," he smiled and looked right up at me. "I knew it was wrong, but I didn't end the call. Instead, I stayed up and listened to the whole thing.."

"You're lying!" I whispered loudly, but I knew he wasn't lying. My face grew hot. I started playing back the week before in my head.

I remembered having my laptop open, video chatting with Matt. I recalled only minimizing the tab because I assumed Matt would hang up. Hell, I didn't even close my laptop or tilt it away from my bed. I remembered being so horny after talking to Matt because he was wearing my favorite flannel of his, and he just looked extra good that day. Plus, he had just woken up from a nap, so his voice was all tired sounding. I did have some fun with myself that night. I couldn't help it. Matt looked so hot and had turned me on so much.

I was mortified, thinking about how many times I had moaned his name or even more humiliating things, like how his tongue would hypothetically feel or about how bad I needed his cock in me. I thought about how many times I had edged myself that night with my vibrator to the thought of him tying me up, getting on top of me, and pounding me senseless.

"Dude. No fucking way," I said, blushing hard and burying my face in my hands. Matt looked ashamed, "I'm so sorry. I couldn't help myself. It was like something took over me." Tears of shame started to well in my eyes. The humiliation and the sexual frustration were starting to blur together, to the point that I no longer knew which one I was feeling. "Don't be embarrassed, sweetheart. I'm the gross pervert who shouldn't have stayed and watched," he smirked.

"Well I can't judge you too harshly because if you hadn't caught me watching you a few minutes ago, I would've done the same thing," I said, biting my lip and nervously giggling. "Would you have watched until I busted all over my hand?" He devilishly grinned at me. "Yes," I whispered. "Well, that's why I put on this little show for you, to return the favor," he moaned again, still pumping away at his shaft. "Oh fuck, I can barely hang on," Matt whimpered, looking up at me, his blue eyes practically begging me to suck him off.

As if I had no control over my body, I fell to my knees in front of him. He stopped stroking it and angled it towards my face, silently asking me to accept it into my mouth, and I did. "Oh, good girl," he softly moaned, moving his hand to the back of my head and gently pushing it down. He let out a loud groan as he hit the back of my throat and it elicited a gagging sound from me, "Yes, please, choke on it," he cooed, holding my head down for a few seconds.

He released my head, and he started reaching for my chest. He slipped his hand under my shirt, and I felt his cold ring graze my nipple. I used my left hand to run up and down his length while I flicked my tongue over the tip. He smiled at me as he watched my tongue dance across his skin. "You're doing so good making me feel like that with your mouth," he muttered. I could feel him throbbing against my lips, and I sucked on the tip every time I slid my mouth back up his length. He kept eye contact while I did this as if he'd die if he missed a single second of watching what I was doing. This made me even more wet.

"I dont think I'm gonna last much longer," Matt said breathlessly. His eyes started to glaze over, and I watched his mouth fall open as he let out a few final glorious sounds. He put his hand on the back of my head again and started fucking my face. "Swallow for me, princess," Matt whimpered. I felt his whole body tremble, and he shot his load onto the back of my tongue. He let out one last guttural moan that I was sure would wake Chris and Nick. Matt leaned back, out of breath, looking disoriented but well-satisfied.

I started to stand, but Matt pulled me on top of him, so I was straddling him. His still mostly erect dick felt so good pressing between my legs. He pulled me in for a kiss, tasting himself on my lips. All that separated us were my thin pair of shorts and my panties, I couldn't help but start grinding against Matt's lap. "Mmmm, needy girl," Matt whispered into my ear while I rolled my hips in circles.

I was humping him like a dog in heat, and I could already feel myself getting close when he suddenly stood up, gripping my ass, and laid me down on the couch where he previously sat, so that we were now in opposite positions. Matt looked into my eyes while he slowly pulled my shorts off my body.

He spread my legs open and started leaving a trail of kisses on the inside of my thigh. Every time he'd get close to my tender core, he'd tease me and skip over it. I couldn't keep my eyes off him and where he was putting his mouth. After teasing me for what felt like an eternity, he moved my panties to the side. I watched as he lowered his mouth but instead of making direct contact with my aching center, he blew hot air over my clit, as if he were fogging up a window with his breath.

"Please..." I begged him, watching his tongue get close to my bundle of nerves but then pull back, driving me crazy. My hips bucked forward trying to coax his tongue to meet my clit, but he grabbed my hips and pushed them back down against the couch. "Not yet, angel. You gotta tell me what you want, and you gotta beg for it," he whispered.

"Please please please. Please eat me," I pleaded with him. "How bad do you want it?" He sneered. "More than anything. Please lick my pussy please please please.." I mewled. "Keep going," he whispered, taking his finger and tapping it against my sweet spot. "Fuck Matt I'm begging. Please make me cum on your tongue," I pleaded once more. I watched his expression change to one that was much darker and much more devious. I could tell he fucking loved the pathetic writhing mess I had become, asking for him to show me some kind of mercy.

"I suppose I've kept you waiting long enough..." He said, and his lips engulfed my sensitive bud. I let out a sigh of relief as he worked his magic on me. He looked up at me as I watched his tongue flicking over my clit again and again, eliciting more soft whines from me. "You taste too good, princess. I could eat you for hours," he cooed. I felt an orgasm start to build deep in my core.

His praises, his mouth, the sound of his tongue lapping against my wetness... I was reaching my breaking point. Matt moaned with my clit between his lips, which sent electric waves throughout my whole body.

The way he brought me to orgasm was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. Instead of being a quick and fleeting explosion, the feeling engulfed me for several seconds. I lost track of where the orgasm began and where it ended.

I was shaking violently, moaning Matt's name over and over again, completely enveloped in endless pleasure. I nearly crushed Matt's head between my legs, but he seemed to relish in it. I could tell how much he loved making those sounds come from me. He cleaned me off with his tongue and looked up at me with a shiny smile.

"Was it better than what you imagined the other night?" Matt bit his lip. I looked at him wide-eyed, still breathless, and slowly nodded. "Better than anything I've ever experienced."

[captain-hawks]

suna rintarou x f!reader — 18+ only, 1.3k, piss kink, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, roommate!suna, perv!suna, based on this drabble

Rintarou wants to laugh at the irony of it—what’s currently staring back at him from your laptop screen.

He covers the bottom half of his face, hot breath curling against his palm as he lets out a ragged exhale of disbelief. 

The thing is, he’s found plenty of things that have left his cock twitching eagerly with interest since he adopted this fucked up habit of perusing your incriminating porn tabs of choice whenever you forget to close out your silly little incognito browser window.

It’s like a game of roulette, the way his thumb hovers over the touchpad before clicking over to the next tab to see what else could have possibly contributed to draining your vibrator battery last night.

Spitting in her mouth!!!

Anal sex (no lube just SPIT)

I choked him and he came untouched??

If Rintarou was a good roommate and friend, he would have immediately closed the browser window full of filthy porn tabs the first time he went to borrow your laptop and found them staring back at him.

hot wet messy snowballing

Edging her till she’s begging for it (three orgasms)

Or at the very least, he wouldn’t have made a goddamn habit of it.

FIRST TIME SQUIRTER HUGE MESS!!!!!

But it's been fun, all of these little discoveries. The things he’s learned about you through clicks and keystrokes. Because Rin’s seen the guys you’ve brought home before—

—and he’ll bet his own goddamn balls that none of them has ever grabbed your face and made out with you after busting a hot load of cum in your pretty mouth. 

Amateurs. 

But this—

This.

This is…

Rintarou weakly rubs his fingers over his eyes, like it’ll somehow change the one and only tab that was waiting for him on your screen today.

And in the back of his mind, idly, he wonders if you closed out all the rest and forgot to dispose of this final piece of evidence.

Or if this video alone was enough to get you off that quickly—

(And it’s dangerous, that thought.)

He slowly closes your laptop.

—-

Rintarou’s calm, mature decision to turn over a new leaf and stop fucking his fist like a pervert to the knowledge of what gets you off lasts approximately four and a half minutes.

Four and a half minutes, and he’s in his room with his boxers discarded somewhere between the bed and the door, flushed, leaking cock gripped tightly in his fist. 

Two strokes and his balls are already seizing up.

Suna Rintarou’s dick is twitching between his fingers on a hair trigger—

and you—

you—

—you have a piss kink.

His mind is already far beyond the memory of the two faceless participants in the video you’d been watching. Miles and miles past SHE PISSED ON MY DICK (huge cumshot!!). 

Rin doesn’t give a single fuck about whatever else he missed out on in the remaining five minutes of the video that he promptly closed out of. 

Because all he can think about is you.

You and those flowy sundresses you like to wear as soon as a hint of warm weather hits the forecast.

You and those lacy little white panties that you sometimes forget in the corner on the bathroom floor after showering.

You and your abysmally small bladder.

Rintarou’s mind is caught in a hazy fantasy, one that finds two of you making out in his bed. You’re wearing that yellow dress that he really likes, and the thin material slips up your thighs like butter when he grasps your waist and pulls you on top of him.

Your lips slide against his, soft moans slipping up your throat as you straddle him, his sweatpants doing absolutely nothing to obscure the sheer amount of blood that’s rushed to his cock in the time since the two of you hit the mattress. 

And then you giggle, murmuring something shyly against his lips about how wait, wait, you have to pee.

Logically, because you live together and you share a bathroom and Rin knows you, he should offer you a slightly dramatic, put-out sigh, hands resting behind his head as he waits for you to return. 

But Rin’s so goddamn hard and your cunt feels so warm grinding against him, even through your underwear. And he honestly doesn’t really care about these sheets or this mattress. 

Rintarou doesn’t give a fuck about much of anything besides the thought of how it wouldn’t just be warm, but hot if you—

“Just go.”

You laugh, gentle and amused. Like he’s joking.

Like he didn’t just ask you to piss on him.

“Rin—”

He pushes up the skirt of your dress, exposing those white panties and the obvious wet spot of arousal that’s already soaked through the material that hugs your swollen folds.

You blink down at him, breath hitching in your throat.

“Rin, I really have to—”

He brushes a finger down your slit, featherlight, not missing the full-body shiver that courses through you.

You whine.

Hooking a finger in your panties, he tugs them aside to expose your cunt.

“You have to what?” he asks calmly, pressing his thumb into the puffy, throbbing button of your clit. 

You exhale silently, eyes falling shut for a moment like it’s taking everything in your power to keep holding it in.

“I have to pee.”

Rintarou uses his free hand to push down his sweatpants and boxers, letting his cock spring free. He stares up at you.

“Prove it.”

Your eyes go a little wide, bottom lip getting caught between the trap of your teeth as your thighs tremble slightly.

“I can’t—”

Rin traces your fluttering entrance with the pad of his middle finger, and your hips stutter as you bite back a moan.

“Why not?”

He slides a finger in, and fuck, fuck, fuck you’re so wet for him.

Your pussy clenches around the digit.

“We’re in your bed. It’ll…it’ll make a mess…” 

Rin smiles, because this is just some fucked up fantasy he conjured, and he can buy a hundred goddamn beds for you to piss all over if he wants to.

“And?”

Two fingers.

“Rin I’m—”

A warm trickle slides down his knuckles. He slowly pumps in and out of your pussy.

“Do it.”

More drips out.

He pulls his fingers out of you and rests his palm flat over your bladder.

“Oh—”

Rin pushes down at the same moment that he slides his hard cock lengthwise down your wet slit.

And all at once, you release.

Hot piss floods out of you, spraying all over his cock.

And Rintarou groans, gasping at the sensation, at the feeling of it coating his cock and dripping down his balls. 

You’re still pissing when you start grinding your cunt against his dick again, desperately, frantically, whining like you’re about to—

You come hard, shaking and sobbing his name against his chest, and Rin’s already halfway to stroking his piss soaked cock to his own completion when you gasp, “Fuck me, Rin. Fuck me. Please fuck me.”

It’s obscene how wet you are, how easily he pumps his cock right into your dripping hole. Rin flips you over onto your back, fucking into your pussy with uneven, shallow strokes because it’s all he can manage before blowing his load.

And because Rin’s a filthy pervert—

“That’s all?” you weakly laugh into his shoulder as he collapses against you afterward, softening cock still nestled in your cunt.

Rin mouths at your collarbone.

“Just say it if you want it.”

You sigh.

“Rin.”

Hand drifting to the base of his cock, he rubs his fingers against the place where it meets your fucked out folds.

He lets out the slightest dribble, just enough to have you gasp with awareness.

“Rin please.”

He shifts, mouth slotting against your lips, tongue lazily sliding into your mouth as a hot flood of piss floods your cunt. 

(You’re a filthy, wet, needy mess of cum and piss when he’s finished finger fucking you over the edge of another orgasm.)

–

Rintarou wakes up to the sound of the heavy front door to the apartment closing, your shoes clicking across the laminate flooring down the entryway.

His hands are sticky with dried cum, sweatpants damp and soaked through with more than just his seed as they cling to his thighs.

He's already hard again.

"Fuck."

[reverie-starlight]

kenma for the soul <3

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. this was in my drafts for so long that I forgot abt it. based off of my own routine when I get a panic attack. I believe I wrote the bulk of this after one, actually.

warnings: depictions of a panic attack, my own personal coping methods (I swear they make sense in my head) and kenma being soft for you. this was edited at like 2 am so if there’s some mistakes… no there’s not.

it’ll pass.

you know that. you’ve known that for years, actually, yet somehow the sentiment doesn’t hold up in the moments you need it to the most.

kenma watches as you switch between sitting on the edge of the bed with him and pacing the length of your bedroom.

he really feels for you. he still gets panic attacks from time to time, after all, so he knows the basics of what you’re going through like the back of his hand.

he’s still trying to learn your specifics, though.

he’s observant and he’s strategic. with those skills, he’s gathered that you do not respond well to sitting still and taking deep breaths.

you continue pacing and wringing your fingers together, clenching and unclenching your fists and shaking your arms out (he recognizes this as literally trying to dispel the panic from your body).

he watches you closely, wanting to figure you out as soon as possible so he can utilize his strategic side and end your suffering. are you trying to tire yourself out? why is it that you don’t find the breathing exercises useful? why doesn’t sitting still and meditating benefit you?

oh… of course, why didn’t he think of that sooner?

you don’t like those coping methods because you see it as another opportunity to focus on your trigger. by trying to stop it, you just end up thinking about it more. they require you to be aware of every sensation in your body, but if you’re moving around a lot instead, it acts as a distraction.

so he’ll need to help you redirect your train of thought some more.

“babe,” he calls out quietly, not having the energy or willingness to be any louder at two in the morning.

you don’t stop pacing, but you look at him and nod to let him know you’re listening.

“let’s go to the kitchen.”

you blink as he gets up and takes your hand, leading you out of your bedroom. he hopes the change of scenery and mystery of what he has planned brings you out of your head a bit.

“kenma-“ you start, voice raw from the crying you did earlier.

“do you want to make cookies?”

you watch as he goes to the fridge and gets some water and ice cubes. (he read once that the ice can shock you out of panic and act as a good redirection strategy.)

you take the glass when he hands it to you and allow the chill of the ice ground you a bit.

your head feels clearer now. the panic had mostly subsided well before you were led out of the bedroom, but you had continued pacing anyway.

in your mind it makes sense- relaxing too soon, when it’s not quite gone, gives it the chance to come back and restart the cycle all over again. tiring yourself out and distracting yourself with the familiar movement patterns that helped stopped it in the first place…

it’s always worked for you.

and now, sitting up on the barstool by the kitchen island with kenma, you definitely feel the exhaustion.

so you shake your head. “no, I’m too tired, babe.”

he nods, successfully getting a read on your energy level. “okay,” he says. “drink your water, I can make toast for us.”

you blink at him. “why?”

he shrugs. “you must’ve worked up an appetite with all that walking, right? I got winded just watching you.”

you snort, surprisingly, and the corner of his mouth lifts up a bit. “I guess so… oh but kenma, I kept you up, you must be tired too.”

he gets the bread ready to put into the toaster and glances at you over his shoulder. “you do realize you’re dating someone who once streamed for twenty-four hours straight, right? one late night is nothing.”

you sip your water and hold an ice cube in your cheek, letting it melt. “still, I’m-“

“and don’t apologize. I know that’s what you were about to do.”

you sheepishly look down into your glass and let the silence linger until he presents you some buttered toast. “remember how I told you I used to get really bad panic attacks in high school? the ones I get now aren’t nearly as intense as those, but I do still know how draining they are,” he rips off a chunk of bread and feeds it to you. “it’s not too much to care for you, okay?“ he knows the feeling of being afraid to be a burden well, too, unfortunately.

you smile and knock your head against his as you chew. “thanks, kenma. I love you.”

there’s still a lot he has to learn for you, but he knows that if this were a video game, it’d be the easiest level he’d ever complete.

“love you too. now let’s finish this and get to bed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@dira333 some kenma :3

[4nyangnyangz]

bf!yeonjun who just might love you a bit TOO much.......

synopsis: lonely nights without Yeonjun have become part of your routine, and tonight wasn't any different. after spending the evening decorating for Christmas, you receive a late-night call from him that brings you comfort while waiting for him to return, that is —until small, unsettling details about your day slip into the conversation. as his warm words echo in your mind, you can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right.

pairings: bf!yeonjun x fem reader

tags/warnings: possible triggering/sensitive content!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. established relationship, dark themes, hints of stalking, obsession, etc. yeonjun is OBSESSED with you and doesn't want you out of his sight for long. FLUFF IF YOU SQUINT. there might be more I forgot to mention-

wordcount: 0.8k!!

fic below the cut!!

Being alone late at night without your boyfriend, Yeonjun, made you feel incredibly lonely. Due to the demands of his job, he often returns home late and frequently works overtime, something you were still struggling to adjust to.

The two of you lived together in a small but cozy apartment, which you were currently decorating with Christmas ornaments, adding little decorations to your mini tree. This was your way of keeping yourself occupied while Yeonjun was gone.

You finished your decorating by placing a star on top of the Christmas tree, completing the festive atmosphere.

Looking around, you felt proud as you admired the decorations scattered around the living room, which made your cozy space feel more vibrant. You cleaned up afterwards, ensuring that the mess from decorating was tidied up.

Once you were done, you headed to your bedroom, letting out a sigh as you picked up the fox plushie from the small desk next to your bed. It was a gift from Yeonjun, given to you when he received his first paycheck from his current job. You would usually play with the plushie or talk to it whenever you felt bored, or when you were just missing your boyfriend in general.

“Hey, Hwangchoon,” you called out, using the name you and Yeonjun had given the plushie a while ago.

You lay down on your bed, resting the plushie on your stomach, facing you.

“Do you think Yeonjun will like the decorations I put up in the living room?” you muttered as you fiddled with the little fox plush.

You held the plushie with both hands, moving it to make it nod in response to your question. You smiled to yourself before reaching for your phone, which was resting beside you. You then checked the time.

[11:37PM]

No texts or calls from him yet… you thought, before locking your phone and placing it back on the bedside table. With nothing else to occupy your time while waiting for Yeonjun to come home, you decided to take a bath before heading to bed.

You placed Hwangchoon back on the desk and got up, grabbing a towel before heading to the bathroom.

After a quick shower, you returned to your room and changed into something comfy.

You and Yeonjun had agreed that if he wasn't home by 11 PM, you could go to bed first, and that's exactly what you had planned, especially since you were still feeling a little tired from decorating the living room.

Just as you finished changing, your phone rang, and you rushed to your bed to answer. The smile on your face was instant when you saw Yeonjun's name on the screen.

“Hey, baby~ are you still awake? I hope I didn’t wake you up,” his voice came through the phone, and your smile grew even wider at the sound of his voice after what sounded like a long, tiring day.

“Well, I was getting a little sleepy and was about to go to bed,” you paused for a moment and giggled, “But now I'm wide awake after hearing your voice.”

“Aww, I'm sorry for keeping you up, angel. Something urgent came up at work, and I really had to finish it tonight, so I clocked out later than usual. But I’m on my way home now. I’ll be there in less than 5 minutes.”

“It’s fine, Yeonjun. You know I’m always just here waiting for you around this time. Get home safely, okay?”

“I promise I'll be quick. I know you must be tired from decorating all night. I got you your favorite snacks, so just hang in there for a bit, okay?”

You laughed softly and stood up, heading to the living room to get ready for his arrival.

“Alright, baby. I'll be right here when you get in.”

“You know, I'm a little upset that you took a shower without waiting for me,” Yeonjun teased on the other end of the line, and you could practically hear the pout in his voice. “So, you’re going to have to give me a ton of hugs when I get home, alright?”

“I’ll give you all the hugs you want, but you better hurry up or I’ll fall asleep on you,” you joked, rolling your eyes.

“Wait—no! I’m already here! I’ll be at the door in 10 seconds, I promise. I’m hanging up now, okay? Love you, baby!” Yeonjun’s voice wavered, and you could hear him running in the background before the call cut off.

Just as you expected, the doorbell rang, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his antics as you headed to the door to let him in.

But right as your hand reached for the doorknob, a sudden thought hit you. You froze, furrowing your brows in confusion.

Wait, I haven't told him I was going to put up the Christmas décor in the living room today and that I took a bath first, have I?

It turns out your boyfriend had been keeping you company all along, but in a way far more unsettling than you ever realized.

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

a/n: i was listening to Devil by the Window when I thought of this prompt, and i immediately remembered how yeonjun's look in the GGUM concept photos would complete the whole vibe of this, so here we are. Merry Christmas, everyone! ❤️

[vitalverstappen]

How Do I Do This? - D. Ricciardo

summary: after a public divorce with your ex-husband (not danny), you found yourself learning to try again

pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x famous!reader

warnings: mentions of divorce, drinking, swearing

word count: 1.1k

masterlist

The divorce was messy. There were disputes over literally everything: who got what, how much money both of you got, who kept the dog. And it didn’t help that the media got a whiff of what was happening. Your failing marriage was plastered on every single outlet. 

It was for the best that you hid away from the public for a while. The pieces of you had shattered on the floor, and you needed the time to put yourself back together. 

A few months later, you slowly began putting yourself back in the public eye. Small trips to the coffee shop, out to lunch with some friends, or a smaller awards show. 

During this outing, you found yourself out to lunch with your childhood best friend, Kelly. She had been there through the thick and thin of your marriage, and the resulting divorce. There was nothing about your life that she didn’t know. 

She knew so well that she could tell you were healed, and truth be told, you were. So it was no surprise when a mischievous grin formed on her face. 

“What’s that look for?” You asked, already knowing what the answer was going to be

“Soooo” Kelly started “There’s this guy I know. A good friend of mine.”

“Wow, you have friends other than me. I’m hurt” You joked as you took a sip of your drink. It was obvious what she was hinting at. 

“Yeah, believe it or not” She laughed “But I think they’re your type y/n. His name is Daniel.” 

Kelly flipped her phone around to show you a picture of the man. Dark curly hair, brown eyes, and a charming smile. As much as you hated to admit it, he was your type. 

Leaning back in your chair, you crossed your arms. It had been years since you dated. And honestly, it terrified you having to have a conversation about someone’s favorite color again. It terrified you to have articles written about you again. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready.” You admitted “I can’t even remember what it’s like going on a first date. My last one was back when I was 22.” 

“Oh come on, y/n. It doesn’t have to be anything serious. Just one date to test the waters. Get yourself back out there.” Kelly explained, “It can be in secret so the tabloids don’t write anything.” 

She was right. The date didn’t have to go anywhere. You could meet the guy, say you weren’t feeling it, and leave it at that. No attachments, no tabloids. 

“Fine,” You sighed, defeated. “Send the guy my number. I am not making the first move.”

You had honestly forgotten about the conversation with your friend. Days had passed and you hadn’t gotten a text from a new number. He probably didn’t want to text you. Or your agent had seen the text and thought it was spam. 

That is until one fateful night, your phone buzzed. 

Unknown: Hey y/n it’s Daniel. Kelly gave me your number

Amused, you picked up your phone. It took him long enough to get the confidence to text you.

You: Hey Daniel. I was starting to think Kelly forgot to lol

Only a few moments passed before your phone buzzed again. Another text from Daniel. 

Daniel: Lol that’s pretty much what happened. How’s your night going?

The two of you engaged in a bit of small talk over text. It was only a matter of time before he pulled the trigger on asking you out. 

Daniel: So I was wondering, are you free Saturday? I know a spot we could go - away from everything. 

Your fingers danced around your keyboard until you finally found a reply. 

You: Yeah I am! 

After rereading the text, you quickly deleted your response. It was just a little too desperate. 

You: Yup, I think so 

Again, you found yourself deleting the message. This time, too nonchalant. At least twenty different replies had to have been typed out before you finally gave up and responded with something simple and straight to the point. 

You: Yes

Immediately, you put your phone down, needing to connect back to your world. It was hard to fathom that you were back in the dating scene. Never did you think you would be back starting at square one. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone buzzing once again. 

Daniel: Great! I’ll pick you up at 7

And that’s how you found yourself panicking in your room Saturday evening. An excitement rushed through you that you hadn’t felt in years. It was like your teenage self was coming back to life. You and Daniel had texted off and on leading up, but today was the big day. 

Hours were spent digging through your extensive closet. Nothing that you had picked out seemed to be just right. Eventually, you landed on a little black dress that you hadn’t worn in years. 

Panic flooded your thoughts the entire time you got ready. What if you said something stupid? What if he brought up your divorce? What if it actually goes well?

Your thoughts were cut short when you read the clock: 6:52pm. Eight minutes left. 

You did the only thing you knew would calm your senses. Phone in hand, you called Kelly. One ring was all it took before her face showed up on your screen.

“Hey girl! You look hot!” She said as she picked up. 

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up” You admitted “I don’t know if I can do this” 

“Y/n, yes you can. It’s just a few hours of your life. Daniel’s a sweet guy-”

“Would it be wrong if I took a shot?” You blurted out, eyes on the bottle of vodka that stood on your kitchen counter. 

Through the phone, Kelly stifled a laugh. “I don’t think you need to, Danny’s an easy guy to talk to. But if you think it’ll help, be my guest.” 

Without a second thought, you twisted the cap off of the bottle and took a swig. The liquor burned your throat as you drank, but it was the reality check you needed. You were human, he was human. You’re going to be fine. 

“Better?” Kelly asked as you gagged 

Once you collected yourself, you said, “Better. I gotta go Kels. He should be picking me up any second.” As if on cue, you heard your doorbell ring. “Coming!” 

After one last quick look in the mirror, you found yourself at your door. Daniel was on the other side. This was it. One last inhale, then you opened the door. 

“Hey” Was all you were able to get out. Kelly had shown you photos of Daniel, but none of those could compare to how he looked standing in front of you. 

“Hi” He replied in the same breathy tone you had used only moments prior. A smile spread across his face. “You look amazing”

“So do you” 

Daniel reached out his hand, “M’lady, shall we?” 

Your lips parted into a smile as well as you laced your fingers into his, “We shall”

[lieslab]

Wish you were sober

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Hyunjin X gn reader

Summary: The ending of your romantic relationship isn't a wake up call from your substance abuse, but rather a fall from grace.

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 2K

Trigger warning: Substance abuse/addiction, brief mention of domestic abuse, childhood trauma, drug paraphernalia, and heroin overdose.

Addiction/domestic abuse resources

_ _ _

Tangerine stained the heel of Hyunjin’s palm. Plum purple smeared along the outside of his opposite arm. Another quiet night of solitude and soft music made his heart content. The strokes of his paintbrush gliding across the page, the gentle dabbing of blending colors together; he could get lost on nights like this. 

Weeks ago, he would have stared blankly at his canvas and shoved it off the wooden easel. Too much hurt in his heart made his brain erratic. He acted without thinking, but time healed the hurt. Not fully, but enough to survive the next day. 

The next day and then the next. Another handful of days spun into a week. A week webbed into a month. A month stretched into two. The tears stopped falling every night. The brutal bullet wound in his heart began to heal with scar tissue. 

He wished he could fix you, but that’s the thing about people. People have to recognize and fight their own problems. They can lean on others for emotional support, but you cannot face people’s problems head on for them. No matter how scary, life must be faced head on. It’s the only way that a person will truly grow. 

Loving someone isn’t always easy. Some flaws are bigger than others. Some are unforgivable and others, as harsh as it sounds, they’re unmanageable. You? A derailed train waiting to crash. Hyunjin? A global k-pop idol with an image to keep up. He didn’t want to be there when you flew head first into another train. 

He tried his best to help you. He coaxed you into conversation after conversation. He tried to get you the help you needed, but you didn’t budge. You refused to see you had a problem. It’s why he left. He couldn’t keep putting his heart on the line and waiting for it to end badly. 

He called it being proactive and you dubbed him heartless. He tried to explain it to you, but you refused to see it. Screaming and crying, under the influence of alcohol, you tossed a book at his head. He barely ducked in time. You didn’t stop. 

One book and then another. Another two and then the lamp. It crashed and shattered, scattered all over the floor, and you couldn’t see the reality. Warped by the wave of alcohol, you knew your boyfriend’s heart no longer picked you. You thought he was selfish. The two of you parted in a broken and unforgiving manner. 

Hyunjin squinted, pulled down more tangerine along the petals of the flower he painted. When he finished, he pulled back, tipped his head, and nodded. Everything in the painting finally came together. It began to look how he envisioned it in his head. 

The vibration of his phone broke his concentration. He wiped his hands on a plaid cloth and swiped the phone without looking. “Hello?” 

“Oh my god, you didn’t block my number.” 

“Who is this?” When he heard your name from your friend’s mouth, his heart sank. He forgot he saved your best friend’s number. Just in case you had an episode where the two of you needed to contact one another about your spiraling behavior. 

“I’m sorry to call you so late, but I can’t find them, Hyunjin. They’re shooting up again and I know it’s not your responsibility, but please. I’ve looked everywhere and I’m freaking the fuck out.” Anxiety brewed in the pit of their stomach. Desperation flooded their voice. “Just this once, please help me and I’ll never contact you again.”

He didn’t know why he agreed, but he did. He shoved himself away from the painting, washed his hands, put on a pair of shoes, and disappeared into the darkness of the night. The same worry he felt weeks ago, it all came back. 

You were reckless with your life. You blamed it on a bad childhood. The teenage years that gnashed your heart into bits of pulp and mush. The kids who didn’t care. The parents who hated you. The world turned its back on you, so you turned your back on it. 

Last Hyunjin knew, you were abusing alcohol. He couldn’t stop you from buying it. He couldn’t take your wallet and hide your money away. Deep down, he wanted to, but he knew it wasn’t right. You had to come to terms with things on your own. 

The last week that the two of you were together, he’d come home to find you passed out on the couch or in the bed. You smelled like a bar. Empty bottles scattered around your body. Whether it was beer or cheap vodka that burned all the way down, it didn’t matter to you. Anything that you could drink and get drunk, it worked. 

If you progressed to shooting up something, your mindset grew worse. All hope that Hyunjin had for your recovery was swept away with a single phone call. His footsteps echoed along the pavement. Dark eyes darted around the sidewalks. The white fluorescent lights hummed above his head. 

Late at night, most places were closed, but he had an idea of where you might be. You always had a favorite rundown park. You said it reminded you of childhood before you realized you were unlovable. If you closed your eyes on the swing, you pretended you were five again. 

Reality didn’t dagger against your chest. You didn’t understand that parents should have been capable of love. Childhood friends didn’t abandon you. Life filled with bright colors and the sharp scent of mowed grass. You blew bubbles, unaware of the horror of the future. 

He walked along the sidewalks, passed the darkened business fronts, and he walked until he found the dead-end street. You took him here for your version of a first date. The two of you climbed the neglected playset. 

You squeezed through the top of a small rock formation and sprawled out on a circular platform. A rusted, metal spinning wheel attached to the side of the platform. At your hip, the perfect height for kids to steer the ship shaped playset. 

Hyunjin’s eyes scanned the area, but he didn’t see you in the dark. He took out his phone, called your name, and turned on the flashlight. He glanced around the area, hoping none of the nearby houses would call the cops on him. He wasn’t a creep, he just wanted to find you. 

Further and further, he walked to the pointed playset until he found an unmoving silhouette above his head. He rushed towards the same rock formation the two of you climbed months ago. He called your name, squeezed in the hole, and pulled himself into the small platform. 

He wiggled forward and his hand bumped metal. He cursed, shined his flashlight, and froze. The underside of a burnt spoon stared back at him. He panicked and rushed towards your body. 

You laid with your eyes shut. Pale skin and blue lips. Your body didn’t move with normal breaths. He shook your shoulders and called your name. Each sound louder than the last, trying to get you to wake up, but you didn’t. 

You always said being under the influence felt better. Away from the harsh realities. High on dizziness and euphoria, it provided relief from the pain in your brain. Your thoughts swung like Newton’s cradle. Each one left your brain more damaged and more hindered than the last. 

There had always been a chance he would find you like this, but he didn’t expect it to be tonight. He didn’t think it’d happen like this. He walked away, hoping, praying, and wishing you’d get better. He thought it’d give you a final wake up call. He didn’t know it’d doom your death. 

He screamed your name and shook you again. Your head slightly rolled, but your eyes didn’t flutter open. Your chest didn’t press forward with a simple breath. His hand reached out and hit your cheek. “Come on! Come on!” 

You didn’t stir. He fumbled for the packets in the back of his jeans. He didn’t think he’d have to use narcan, but he was glad he brought them along. You always worried him with your recklessness. He grabbed the plastic pack, ripped it open, and gently wrapped his fingers around the plastic pieces. He pushed the tip into your nose and pressed the lever, shooting it into your nasal cavity. 

“Come on, wake up. Don’t leave me tonight. You can’t do this to me tonight.” He shifted you onto your side. The recovery position was supposed to aid in your recovery. His fingers shook as he dialed the correct number for an ambulance. 

His words came out numbly. He explained the situation and your location. When you didn’t take a breath after a while, he administered a second round of narcan. Just as blue and red lights turned the corner, the sirens grew louder, and you gasped. 

You didn’t understand what was happening. The spot you jammed the needle in your forearm ached. Remnants of euphoria clung to your head. Your eyes drooped and Hyunjin’s grasp around you felt warm. You weakly uttered his name, not sure if he was here or a figment of the drugged haze. 

“I’m here and I’m not leaving you. I’m not letting go. Stay awake and stay with me.” He waved his arm to the first paramedic he saw. “Over here!” 

Your world blurred. Faces smeared. Sounds echoed and morphed. Your heart raced in your chest, but none of that mattered. The hurt didn’t last. It fractured, contorted, and burst into tiny pieces that drifted away with the drugs. 

It always felt good. The highs kept you high. The lows dragged you down and slammed you back to earth hard. Each one made you feel worse and worse. For each low, you craved the high again.

A never-ending self destructive cycle that almost killed you tonight. 

_ _ _ 

When you were finally straightened out hours later, after the doctor worked magic on your overdose, a headache loomed overhead. Your mouth felt dry and your body ached. 

Hyunjin sat across from you with tears in his eyes. After accompanying you to the hospital, he called your best friend back and told them that he found you. They showed up, but once they saw the state you were left in, they left the room in sobs. Unable to accept that this person was who their best friend was once. 

“Hyunjin?” You whispered. Your hand stretched for his, but he didn’t grab it. He stared at it and more tears slipped down his cheeks. 

“You nearly died tonight.” 

“What?” 

“You heard me. I’m sorry I’m being rude, but you’re an idiot. Do you know how devastating it was to find you not breathing? You dumbass!” He snapped out of anger. “I thought I lost you!”

He ignored your hand, reached out, and tugged you into a hug. “You stupid, fucking idiot. Don’t make me lose you. Don’t make me have to live through that. I’ll never forgive you if this addiction kills you.” 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

“Don’t say sorry. Do something about it! Fight it!” He pulled away and cupped your cheeks. “Fight it. Let me help you. Let your friends help you. You don’t have to do any of this alone. Nobody ever said you had to be alone for it. Don’t let it take you away from us. Stop letting it win.” 

Maybe it was the devastation smeared along your ex-boyfriend’s face or the desperation in his eyes. Perhaps, it was the later admitness from Hyunjin where he informed you that your best friend ran out of your hospital room unable to fathom the reality you found yourself in. Maybe it was the gentleness from nurses and the doctors, who didn’t treat you like a burden, but rather like a person with an injury. 

_ _ _

Later, curled up to a sleeping Hyunjin in your shared hospital bed, you silently vowed to fight and win. No matter how long it took and no matter how much withdrawals sucked, you’d win. You’d fight for your life. For your future. For your friends. For your ex. 

You’d fight to become a success story and not another doomed statistic in a textbook.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882 @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz

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[lostinlovingrevery]

Van's askbox open? Don't mind if I do. So in the comics, I forgot which one, they went into Logan's mind and open a door that said I think?Sexual Fantasy. It opened to a BDSM room with Emma Frost calling Logan a Dirty Little Boy with 4 others and a St Andrew cross in the background and some had impact play crops. And with the recent soft Sub. Logan, I believe that Logan wants to sub but that person has to really be soft and comforting and earnest for him to enter sub space. Like he yearns to feel safe enough to not be in control and be safe and valuable.

THAT IS WILDDDDDDDD

I went and looked up the page and its so ridiculous I couldn't help BUT LAUGH

EMMA FROST??? REALLY LOGAN? (I guess I can't blame him....IT SHOULD BE ME!!!!!1)

Lol everything in that room don't surprise me. Thats my mans <3

Also you're SO right. I think Logan would hold a lot of the dominant part in a bedroom as a form of self protection. Letting go of control like that makes him anxious, and trust already doesn't come easy for him!!!

Finding a partner (you) that he completely trusts was hard. Hed probably wouldn't give in right away!!! You both would have to be together, and explored some kinks/sexual fantasys for awhile. Don't get me wrong, i think Logan is a huge dom- but every body likes being treated like a pillow princess at SOME point, right?

youd have to display a phenomenal sense of safety and softness for him to ever want to show that part of him. A part he'd probably feel is weak, and you'd have to show him that being submissive, being soft, wanting a partner to take care of you in more ways than physically, sexually, and emotionally, is not weak!!! Trust is a big big play in this!

I'm not sure what would initiate that actual dom/sub dynamics. Maybe you've been playing around with alternating roles. Maybe you playfully tie his wrist together one night while riding him. Or you say something teasing- calling him naughty boy or something and it starts triggering that need to be taken care of- to be put in his place.

Now that I think about it, you'll probably be the one to suggest the role change. Maybe you noticed he's stressed, tell him to lie back and you'll take care of it. He has trouble letting go at first- but i think he'd eventually melt.

You're praising him and touching him all over so sweetly the first time. Giving him everything he wants and more.

but then as you continue exploring more in your future adventures, maybe sensory play- a little pain, and you realize how much he gets off on you being the boss. THAT'S when it escalates..... :)

It starts off with you gently scratching his skin. Makes him purr when you do that. Maybe you bite him a couple times- he really likes that. Then you tie him up- and he has to abide by your rules, no breaking the ropes to get what he wants (cause you both know he could). Anytime he behaves he's rewarded. You're pinching him, playing with his nipples, fondling his balls, never quite going to the source where he really he wants you but he behaves because he wants to be good for you.

Although NOW he's starting to understand why you get so squirmy with him....

Maybe it elevates to something more, blindfolds, wax play, smacking, using those whips, ball gags, You think of it- he'll be excited to do it!!!

Praise, degradation- I think he like a mix of both. Reward him with praise when he's good, call him a filthy slut when he's bad. He'll absolutely LOVE it.

Whether you too go farther is up to you...Cock rings, sex dungeons, pain play and more....

and of course- the aftercare is SO important!!

I actually have a draft/request for subby logan....

[naughtyneganjdm]

Love's Second Chance: A Holiday Reunion - Chapter 15

Summary: Joel wakes up half naked in bed, foggy of what happened during the middle of the night. When he remembers, it makes Joel learn something about himself that he's not willing to accept just yet. Everyone shares their final day together in New York City and emotions are high when Joel begins to realize that he is confused with what he wants in life in terms of Negan and Y/N.

Characters: Joel Miller, the reader (OC), Negan Smith, Elizabeth, Peter, Maggie, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60501985/chapters/156789391

Warnings: Swearing, angst, two men sharing some smuttiness on their own, dirty talk, heavy touching, did I mention angst? there is a lot of it, Joel is kind of mean in this (but he's going through things), etc.

Notes: If you have a problem with two men being together, I suggested avoiding the first scene in this chapter. I also want to stress that this is a story where someone is having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that they are bisexual due to some abusive situations that they experienced when they were younger. That could be triggering to some. This chapter is also VERY VERY LONG. Thanks for those that read the story! I appreciate all of you. I'm also sorry that this was put up so late. I was really busy yesterday and this was long so I needed the time to edit it properly.

Groaning out, Joel felt an overwhelming ache in his head. Burying his face deeper into his pillow, Joel tried to focus on something other than the pain. Everything hurt right now. Attempting to open his eyes, Joel realized that everything was a blur. Forcing his eyes closed, he hissed out and tried to get more comfortable. Every muscle in his body was fatigued. Even though Joel was used to having a very physical job, the last two days had worn him out.

Clinging to the cold sheets beneath him, Joel’s palms curled into a tight fist. Trying to focus, Joel couldn’t even pull together where he was right now. Struggling to open his eyes again, Joel grumbled under his breath and turned his head. Hell, his eyesight was still hazy. Focusing on what happened that led him here made him think about the bar. After he talked to Negan in the alleyway, Joel remembered going back in with Tommy. Truthfully? He drank a lot. Him, Tommy and Negan all seemed to drink extensively last night. People were buying Joel drinks and he wasn’t turning them down. And now he regretted it. Because that hangover was hitting him and it was hitting him hard.

Waiting a few minutes, Joel’s eyelashes fluttered to an open. Even though everything was still fuzzy, he forced himself to keep his eyes open. By the time everything came into focus for him, Joel could see that it was dark. For a moment? He forgot where he was.

Using the strength that he did have, he outstretched his arm to hit at the nightstand that was beside the bed that he was laying in. Amongst the dark, the vibrant red colored lights showed that it was four in the morning. What the fuck happened?

Gazing over his shoulder, Joel lifted his head up from the bed. And really? He didn’t do it very well. His eyes were narrowed and he was still unbelievably tired. Still, his eyes had a hard time focusing until he realized the large glass panel wall that was at the bottom of his bed. It was his room in the apartment that Negan had taken them to. Cussing to himself, Joel dropped his head back into the pillow and adjusted his body.

Starting to come to, Joel grunted when he realized that his lower half was cold. Lifting up just enough, Joel looked down between him and the bed. A slur of curse words fell from his lips when he finally realized he was naked below the waist. The sheets were hanging loosely at the bottom of his bare ass. Swiftly lowering back down to the bed, Joel was afraid to learn more.

Swallowing down hard, he squeezed his eyes shut and attempted to remember what the hell happened last night. The last thing he remembered fully? Having Y/N pull him out to dance with her at the bar. Even though he didn’t want to and he could barely stand on his feet. And while he wished like hell that he remembered the conversation, all he knew as that it was a serious one. That was really the last thing he could remember.

The warmth of an arm wrapping around his waist caused his whole body to tense up.

“Oh shit,” Joel stammered, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat. The weight of another body shifted behind him alerting him to the fact that he wasn’t alone. And that’s when the panic started to set in. Last night? Joel was very, very emotional about things. The alcohol likely didn’t help either.

Fuck, remembering the details of what happened took way too long. Why the fuck was he blanking in that moment?

Small flashes of memories were starting to come back. He remembered Y/N and Negan having to help him back to the apartment. Stumbling through the streets of New York at night. Even though he could barely stand he was singing in the somewhat still busy streets. It had Negan laughing, but something inside of him made him think that Y/N wasn’t too happy with him. Then again, he didn’t think she was happy with Negan either.

Then he remembered being sat down in the kitchen with Negan while Y/N made them coffee. Again, the discussion that all of them had was but a blur. He knew it had something to do with the three of them. But he didn’t remember what it was for or what the outcome of it was. All he knew was that things had been tense after he had almost been caught by Tommy with Negan in that alleyway.

That’s when it hit him.

Looking over his shoulder, Joel let out a strained breath when the small amount of light allowed him to see who was laying beside him. And that was Negan.

Dropping his head back down onto the pillow, Joel tried to recount everything that happened last night. Closing his eyes, he focused hard recalling that he stumbled his way up the stairs. Sat alone to himself in his room for a while. Letting his emotions run wild until Negan came up to his room. Joel had been sitting in one of the chairs by the window when Negan came in and asked to talk. Joel really didn’t give him an answer, he just allowed Negan to do what he wanted.

“I know that I’m probably one of the last people that you want to talk to right now,” Negan had commented, lowering himself down to the corner of Joel’s bed at the bottom. Staring out at Joel, Negan shrugged his shoulders and took a minute to think about what he wanted to say. “I’ve been thinking about this since we’ve talked. And I’m sorry. You’re right. I put you on the spot. And it was wrong. I would have been shitting my fucking pants if I was in your position too. I don’t care how big my sack is. I just didn’t tell you because I was fucking worried you wouldn’t come. Y’know?”

After Negan said that, Joel didn’t respond. Which made Negan nervous and he just continued to ramble continuously about why he did what he did. Explaining that he wanted Joel to be happy. That he wanted Joel to be able to live his dream. It was everything you would want to hear from someone that you trusted. But for some reason? Joel still stayed quiet about everything.

Beside Joel, Negan was also laying face down with his head buried in the pillow. Deep in sleep. It made Joel wonder how long he had been there like that. Taking a quick glance back at the nightstand, Joel’s eyes fell to a bottle of lube that was tipped over on its side. Suddenly his heart started to hammer in his chest. He wanted to blame the alcohol for being so out of it, but at the end of the day he was pretty sure that it was exhaustion that caused it. But now that he was starting to remember what happened with Negan it made him begin to get anxious.

After Negan did his extensive apology, he realized that Joel may have not been in the mood to forgive him so he went to get up. When Negan stood to leave, Joel stood up too. And the next thing he knew he was slamming Negan up against the glass panel window. Demanding a kiss from Negan like he had wanted to do in the alley before Tommy had interrupted them.

“Oh fuck,” Joel rolled over onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. Reaching up, he rubbed at his eyes and felt the sheets tugging at his hips. The room felt like it was spinning with his heart rate elevated.

A few hours ago? Joel had sex with Negan. And only Negan.

Licking his lips, Joel reached for the sheets again to pull them up slightly. Underneath, Negan was completely naked only confirming for Joel what had happened. Dropping the sheet back down, Joel swallowed down hard.

Maybe part of him was fired up about everything that happened. Maybe part of him was confused. But one thing he remembered thoroughly now was the kissing. It was hungry. Passionate. Forceful. Both of them fighting for dominance in the moment. He remembered the way that Negan touched him. How good it felt in the moment and how he wanted more of it.

More of it is exactly what he got. It could have been the liquid courage, but there was an eagerness for Joel to get his pants off. To let Negan have him. In ways he never expected to let another man have him.

When he closed his eyes, he could still remember what it felt like. How Negan went above and beyond to make him comfortable. Proving to Joel that Negan knew exactly what he was doing. What Joel expected to hurt actually felt good after getting over the hurdle of being nervous. Negan was meticulous with his fingers helping to prepare Joel and get him ready for what Joel desperately wanted. All the while making sure to keep Joel’s sounds muffled since they were on the second floor which was dangerous in itself.

He remembered allowing Negan to flip him over onto his stomach. How he enjoyed the way it felt when Negan entered him slowly giving Joel time to adjust to the way things felt. He could still hear the sounds of Negan’s muted moans in his ears, the smacks of Negan’s hips up against his ass with every move that their bodies made together. How Negan’s fingers hooked with his and Negan talked him through everything. Then he remembered having to bite his fist to keep himself from making a noise when he experienced his first prostate orgasm.

Wincing out, Joel’s eyes opened when he felt an ache straining at his body. Raising the sheets, he took notice of is semi-erect cock resting at his lower abdomen. Cussing out to himself, he dropped the sheet back down and threw his head into the pillow. Just thinking about it had him getting hard. What the fuck was he thinking?

Gazing over at Negan, Joel outstretched his fingers to touch Negan’s arm having him shift in the bed beside him. Joel’s breathing grew labored remembering that after Negan took Joel, he allowed Joel to have him afterwards. Unlike Negan, Joel was not as careful about things. Actually, he felt kind of bad remembering how he was. Rough. Powerful. Desperately wanting to chase the orgasm that was building up inside of him.

“Fuck, you have to stop,” Joel demanded of himself noticing that his body was getting way too worked up over the memories of what they had done. Everything had Joel’s body on fire, his heart hammering away inside of his chest. How the fuck was he going to explain this? Even to himself? There was no explanation really. Things just happened and he allowed them to happen.

With a loud exhale, Joel noticed that Negan’s long eyelashes started to flutter to an open. A rush of panic flooded Joel’s veins. What the fuck was he supposed to say after everything? This wasn’t a dream. This was very much a reality and Joel knew what they did, they couldn’t take back.  

“Are you okay?” Negan yawned, stretching his body out and getting more relaxed beside Joel. Placing his hand in over the center of Joel’s chest, Negan almost instinctively caressed at the lengths of his abdomen. What sounded like a moan that Joel was desperately trying to bite back on had Negan’s eyes fluttering to an open. “Did you just moan?”

“No,” Joel lied provoking Negan to reached for the sheets to lift them up to see Joel’s rock-solid erection that he was trying so hard not to get. Moving Negan’s wrist, Joel shifted in the bed and slid up into a seated position. Leaning back against the headboard, Joel grabbed the pillow that he had been laying on and covered his groin. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Negan rubbed at his tired eyes, rolling onto his back and licking his lips. “I mean if you want to go again, I’m kind of tired but…”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Joel announced, his voice broken and stammering. Tipping his head to the side, Negan’s hazel eyes narrowed when he began to realize that Joel appeared to be freaking out. “It shouldn’t be happening in the first place.”

“I mean yeah, you might be tired after the last few days, but your dick is like the energizer bunny. Which is fucking crazy because you sell yourself like this old man that can’t keep up with things, but…” Negan chuckled with Joel hushing him. Dramatically shrugging his shoulders, Negan rolled over onto his side with his hand stretching out beneath the sheets. Moaning out, Joel dropped his head back when Negan���s fingers curled around the rigid length of his manhood. Teasing the flesh over Joel’s tip and then back down again. Even though he knew he shouldn’t have, he actually liked the way Negan’s touch felt over his distended flesh. “Don’t feel ashamed of getting an erection. It’s impressive.”

“Yeah, but,” Joel started, licking his lips uneasily as he tipped his head back further against the headboard. Swallowing down hard, Joel felt Negan’s fingers pushing at the bottom of the shirt that he was wearing. When Negan’s mouth surrounded his nipple, Joel bit back the next moan that wanted to follow. With Negan’s tongue circling his nipple it had Joel’s back arching in closer to him. “What we did tonight…”

“Yeah?” Negan slurred, nipping faintly at the skin getting Joel to wince and suck in a large amount of air. “What about it?”

“I don’t know if it was okay,” Joel admitted, forcing himself to look down at Negan who simply just tipped his head back and smirked.

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” Negan grumbled under his breath having Joel’s abdomen contracting with the way that Negan was touching him.

“Well,” Joel knew he should have been turning Negan away, but he couldn’t help but enjoy how good it all felt. “You’re a man.”

“I’m a what?” Negan chuckled, his nose wrinkling in amusement. Pulling his hand away from Joel’s body had Joel frowning, his hips desperately arching up wanting to experience that touch all over. Lifting the sheets up, Negan looked down at his body and then dramatically gasped. “Holy shit, you’re right. I am a man.”

“It’s not funny Negan,” Joel hushed Negan, waving his hand about in the air. Smacking at the back of Negan’s chest had the lines in Negan’s forehead growing deeper. What sounded like an amused wheeze escaped Negan’s throat and Joel just found himself getting more embarrassed. “I’m straight. I like women. What we did last night.”

“You’re not straight though because straight men don’t want another man to fuck them,” Negan declared, the vein at the side of his neck bulging slightly. “You’re bisexual Joel. And there is nothing wrong with it. I don’t understand why you are having such a hard time coming to terms with that.”

“Because I’m not…I didn’t think…” Joel couldn’t even form the words, dropping his head back again against the headboard. “I’ve only been with women. You’re the first guy I’ve slept with and I’ve never…”

“Had sex with another man. Yeah, you’ve told me. A lot,” Negan stressed to Joel, pulling himself up into a seated position beside Joel on the bed. Gazing over Joel, Negan cleared his throat and shook his head. “Why are you suddenly so worried about things? You’re the one that pushed for this. Are you hurt?”

“No. Well, not really,” Joel answered, his jaw flexing at the idea of what took place. “At least I don’t think so. I ache, but…”

“Which is bound to happen, but if you’re not in a lot of pain that’s good,” Negan was still trying to understand why Joel was so upset. Smirking, Negan lowered back down in the bed and laid down. Reaching up to rub at his eyes, he could hear Joel’s breathing growing louder.

“Are you in pain?” Joel whispered, his southern drawl incredibly deep with how quiet he was being. Repeating Negan’s question was probably stupid, but it was a thought in his mind.

“Hmmm?” Negan dropped his arms down at his side, his head turning on the pillow to stare out at Joel with his big eyes. “No Joel. I’m fine.”

“I was really rough with you,” Joel thought back to what it was like hearing the winces that Negan made with every thrust Joel did at the beginning.

“I’m resilient,” Negan grumbled under his breath, his fingers squeezing tightly around the sheets. Trying to force his eyes open, Negan shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not like I haven’t had someone pound my ass before Joel. It was your first time, not mine. I helped you prepare me, it was fine. You are the one I’m worried about.”

“Was your first like this?” Joel was very quiet in the way that he asked Negan about his first time. There was a curiosity to know more about Negan with men. Especially since Joel had never experienced things before with another man. Yet it seemed like Negan had multiple times. “Did you hook up with someone like you?”

“No, not at all,” Negan grumbled under his breath, his long abdomen stretching out drawing Joel’s eyes to it. Why was he all of a sudden so keen on watching Negan’s body like this? “I let Lucille peg me. I was always curious. So I let her do it to me. It was strangely thrilling and she got a power kink from it. So it was a success in that way. I think she liked that she took both of my virginities so to speak. Fucking thrilled her.”

“And she didn’t look at you differently after that?” Joel swallowed down hard, scoffing when he realized that he was holding the pillow that he had grabbed earlier in his arms. Moving it back to where it was, Joel noticed that Negan was smirking at him.

“She loved it. It gave her a sense of power,” Negan explained, thinking back on his past with his late wife. “Of course, she wasn’t a man so she had to get used to the whole thing, but the more we did it, the more comfortable it got for us. And the better she got at it. It really turned her on. Lucille was a very dominant woman.”

“And what about your first man?” Joel wondered, his chest tightening when Negan flashed him a big smile. It was obvious all of Joel’s questions were amusing him.

“I don’t know. Lucille and I broke up a few times. So I…experimented? I don’t remember it too well. It was a really long time ago,” Negan claimed, throwing his hand about in the air as he spoke. “You got lucky. You were with someone who knew what he was doing at least and how to take care of you.”

Turning toward Joel, Negan pushed up at the material of Joel’s shirt again leaving small, wet kisses over Joel’s abdomen. Wrapping his fingers back around Joel’s body had his dark eyes coming to a close and it made Negan smile, “You don’t have to be ashamed of feeling good Joel. It’s okay for you to open yourself up to feeling really fucking good.”

“What are we going to do though?” Joel searched for answers, his breathing growing broken while Negan pumped his hand over his length. Biting down on his bottom lip, Joel watched Negan’s other hand disappear beneath the sheets where he assumed he was jacking himself off too.

“Get you to come and then sleep?” Negan continued to pepper kisses at the length of Joel’s torso. A moment later Joel was grasping firmly to Negan’s jaw forcing him to tip his head back to meet Joel’s stare.

“With Y/N?” Joel stressed, his facial features showing just how conflicted he was about all of this. Clearly, he enjoyed what Negan was doing, but at the same time he was worried. “I love her. So much.”

“As do I,” Negan commented, his eyebrows furrowing and his head tipping in confusion. “We talked about this last night Joel. Where’s the problem?”

“We cheated,” Joel blurt out, wincing when he dropped his head to watch Negan’s movements under the sheet. An amused rumble escaped Negan’s throat when he turned his head toward Joel’s hand to press a kiss at Joel’s pulse point. “She’s never going to look at me the same when she knows.”

“Who are you talking about?” Negan grunted, his facial expressions making it obvious that he didn’t agree with Joel with the stuff that was spewing out of his mouth. Pulling his hand away from Joel again had Joel whining because he wasn’t ready for Negan to stop touching him. “We talked about this equals things yesterday. The three of us. Being open to being with each other. I’m okay with it. She’s okay with it. You’re just the remaining factor. And I thought by you doing this—it was your answer.”

“I don’t remember that discussion. I remember bits and pieces,” Joel confessed, wishing like hell that he did remember that conversation, but he didn’t. So while this may have comforted Negan? It didn’t exactly comfort Joel. Turning on the bed, Negan adjusted his positioning to give Joel his full attention. “You’re telling me that you’re okay with sharing her?”

“If it makes her happy, that’s all I want,” Negan admitted, his jaw flexing while explaining himself. “Sometimes the healthiest relationship is a poly relationship. When you love two people, you’re able to open yourself up to more. I’m okay with sharing both of you. I don’t see a problem in it. As long as it’s just the three of us?”

“You’re telling me that you’re going to go back to work and tell the people you’re working with that you’re fucking your ex-best friend and her ex-husband? And you think everyone is going to be okay with it?” Joel’s voice almost sounded condescending and it had Negan scoffing. “I don’t believe that Negan.”

“Well that’s unfortunate because I can assure you I don’t give a fuck about what other people think,” Negan asserted, adjusting his body allowing the sheets to pull further at his lap where they were wrinkled in a mess. Joel’s eyes dropped down, his throat going dry at the sight. Right now he should have been focusing on Negan, but his brain was thinking about how Negan barely had that sheet covering him. “People should honestly be jealous because I’m getting to fuck two hot people. And I really don’t care if people judge me for being in a bisexual relationship with another man.”

“I’m not bisexual,” Joel interrupted Negan evoking an eye roll from Negan who shook his head and stood up from the bed. “Negan, I’ve always thought I was attracted to women. I’ve never done this before and…”

“We both know that’s not true,” Negan scoffed lifting his head up to glare at Joel before looking back down to search for something. “You know, it’s completely okay to be fucking bisexual Joel. I’ve always been bisexual. I knew it my whole life. But I did have a preference for women. I’m pretty sure you’re the same exact way.”

“You’ve always been bisexual?” Joel scoffed, pulling himself to the edge of the bed watching Negan look for something. Negan nodded while reaching down to grab his shirt. “Y/N knew this?”

“Of course she did. I told her everything,” Negan repeated what he had already said multiple times to Joel. “I have always been honest with her. And I still am.”

“You said you didn’t tell her what I did,” Joel reminded Negan with a frown, his fears getting the worst of him. Dropping his hand at his side, Negan shook his head. His thick eyebrows bounced up and Joel knew that Negan was irritated.

“I didn’t fucking tell her Joel,” Negan assured him with a sense of annoyance in his tone. There was a visible doubt in Joel’s eyes with the line at the bridge of Joel’s nose becoming more prominent. With the topic of the woman they both loved, Negan threw his hands up in the air and shrugged. “Considering how happy you made her, it wasn’t worth it.”

“But if you told her, she would immediately pick you,” Joel suggested drawing out a long sigh from Negan. This was a conversation that Negan thought they were well over with. “You know I’m right.”

“You’re panicking for no reason,” Negan stammered, brushing his fingers through his messy hair. “Don’t panic. I didn’t tell her anything. I’m not gonna tell her anything. It was the past. What you did will remain in the past. What matters is right now. And right now she wants to move on. I want to move on. If you would get over this…I don’t even know what is going on with you right now, we’d be fucking fine. You could be happy. She could be happy. I could be happy. But instead, you’re fighting this brick wall you keep putting up.”

“Brick wall?” Joel repeated observing Negan looking for something on the floor again. “The hell are you looking for?”

“My pants!” Negan scoffed, causing Joel to gaze over the side of the bed. Beside him laid Negan’s pajama pants that he had come into his room with. Tossing them to Negan, Joel breathed loudly, his eyes watching Negan’s every movement. “I don’t know who you’re trying to fool more. Because right now, I’m pretty sure it’s yourself. You are so used to being fucking miserable that you aren’t allowing yourself the opportunity to be happy. This trio thing? It’s the best option here Joel. You get what you want. With both of us.”

Attempting to put on his pants, Negan winced when Joel moved quickly to shove him firmly against the glass panel again. Placing his hand firmly against Negan’s throat, Joel kept his strength locked in when he lowered his free hand to wrap his fingers around Negan’s semi-erect cock. Angrily their eyes locked when Joel tipped his head to the side, “You’re arrogant.”

“And you’re an idiot,” Negan grumbled, hissing out when the pressure at his neck grew stronger. Tipping his head back, Negan’s eyes came to a tight close with Joel working to jerk him off. There was a raspy moan that only partially escaped Negan because of the pressure on his neck and it had chills flooding through Joel’s body. Extending out his hand, Negan’s long, slender digits circled around Joel’s shaft. Putting a bit of pressure, he started to caress at Joel’s body matching the tempo that Joel set between them. Keeping up with the same strength, both of them were breathless. “You are a fucking mess.”

“And you need to learn to shut up,” Joel hissed, his forehead pressing forward to rest against Negan’s. With every touch, Joel’s hips bucked up toward Negan wanting to feel and reach that release that had been building up inside of him. Right now he was fighting very hard to stay quiet.

By the time both of them came, Negan’s face had gone red from the pressure of Joel choking him. Releasing his grasp, Joel’s head dropped against Negan’s shoulder and it had Joel panting, “You’re so fucking confusing. Are you straight? Or are you bisexual Joel? Do you want my cock or not?”

Stumbling back toward the bed, Joel dropped down and laid out across the top of it with his breathing loud and broken, “Are you going to tell her about what we did tonight?”

Joel seemed nervous at the idea while Negan took his time to gather his breathing, “Am I not allowed to? You know she’s not gonna have a problem with it.”

“I had a shitfit yesterday,” Joel admitted, licking his lips and looking up at the ceiling. There was a sense of guilt eating away at him with the way things had gone down. “I thought by the three of us hooking up, it meant she would eventually be picking me. That there was still a chance that she would choose me over you. When she told me that wasn’t possible, I got angry. I reckon she’ll be upset that I did this. She’ll think that I did this out of spite.”

“Joel,” Negan scoffed, rolling his eyes when he stumbled over toward the nightstand. Pulling out a few tissues, he worked to clean himself off before tossing the tissue box onto the center of Joel’s chest. “She already thought we fucked in the past. I don’t think she’s gonna care. In fact, I think the only thing that she will be fucking upset about is that she didn’t get to see it.”

“People aren’t going to be accepting of this Negan,” Joel panted, reaching for the tissue box to set them aside. “The children won’t understand. People won’t understand. The town we live in gets into everyone’s business.”

“What’s really the problem here Joel?” Negan started to work his clothes back on, grumbling something under his breath when he got his shirt down over his body. “You’re worried that people are gonna find out you like men, right?”

“I don’t like men,” Joel snapped at Negan, lifting his head up from the bed to stare out at him. There was anger in his eyes when Negan rolled his eyes and laughed once more. “I don’t.”

“You like me. You come fucking buckets when you’re near me. We both know how things were when we were younger,” Negan insisted, throwing the tissues away that he used to clean himself with.

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating,” Joel pushed up onto his hands, his chest rising and falling while he watched Negan pacing.

“I’m insinuating that you love Y/N, just like I do. And you want to fuck me, just like I want to fuck you. And maybe more emotions can come from this. When you attempt to trust me more and we can all…” Negan rambled on, getting a glare from Joel and he scoffed. “What do you want to happen here Joel? Do you want her to pick one or the other? Do you want her to be sad? Because as far as I can see. She loves both of us. If she picks you or me solo, she’s going to be upset. Are you really so worried about what people will think about you that you aren’t gonna allow yourself to be happy? Who cares what the people in town think? Given the opportunity y’know most of them would love to suck my cock. They might talk shit, but deep down it’d just be jealousy. And I don’t think Tommy would care.”

“I don’t even know how I feel about you,” Joel declared having Negan’s Adam’s apple bounce in his throat. Negan’s hands settled at his hips, his jaw flexing while he eyed over Joel. “It’s a lot to process. Going from women to…women and you. It just happened tonight Negan. You can’t expect me to think everything is going to fall into place.”

“Are you like this because of what happened with your dad when we were teenagers?” Negan blurt out getting Joel’s dark eyes to narrow at Negan when he turned to look at him. “Your dad was a Texas man through and through. Okay? I know you came from a religious family. And he freaked out when he found the two of us jerking off together watching what we were, but…”

“Stop, right now,” Joel demanded, standing up from the bed and reaching for his pants to pull them on. “This has nothing to do with my dad. You’re the one that had a shitty father Negan, not me. My dad did the best that he could and even though he wasn’t the best father, I know he meant well. He just wanted to raise me and Tommy right.”

“You’re second guessing everything because of how you feel for me,” Negan could tell by Joel’s breathing that he was angry with Negan bringing up his past. “You think because your dad called you that word that everyone is gonna see you that way, but who cares? Your mom and your dad have been gone a long time Joel. You can be who you are. Who we both know you are. I think your mom would have been okay with it.”

“I said enough,” Joel warned, his finger raising up to point at Negan who uncomfortably licked his lips. “Just because the two of us had sex doesn’t mean that you get to come around assuming things. You’ve been around here, what? A month? And suddenly you think you know everything. Newsflash Negan, you don’t know shit. My family loves you because you’re famous. You give them nice shiny things. My kids would like anyone famous that gave them things. And Tommy? He’s the same way. And Y/N? The reason she is so hooked on you is because you give her what she always wanted me to give her. But she’s still so hooked on me because I’m the love of her fucking life. Not you. I’m her soul mate. Not you. You’re just fun for the time being. Because she always comes back to me. I’ve been here for twenty years. You left. You had every opportunity to come back. But you spend a month with us and you think you can just walk into our lives and determine you know everything? You need to learn to shut your fucking mouth sometimes.”

Smirking, Negan dropped his head down and nodded his head about, “Yes Negan. You are so fucking good with making people feel good. You put on the charm and I reckon you get the pants off anyone. You’ve always been a charming son of a bitch. And that’s why people like you. You’re like a fucking drug. You look at a person and you just…”

“Careful, you might admit you have feelings for me and the gay might start coming out,” Negan warned wincing when Joel moved forward to shove him firmly against the wall. “Are you really having this shit fit because you want Y/N to yourself or is this because you don’t want people to call you gay Joel? Because the anger really comes out in you when I mention having feelings for men.”

“But you’re also poison,” Joel snarled, his voice growing darker when the color drained from Negan’s face. A silence fell between them with Joel shaking his head. “Yeah, you’re fun now. You’re going to be the good guy for as long as you can be. But then the poison is going to seep through. Like it has for every relationship that’s meant something to you.”

For the first time in a long time, Negan was silent, “You can pretend to be the good person for so long until the real you starts slipping through the cracks. The only person that you were ever perfect for was Y/N growing up. And she still picked me over you.”

“I’m sorry your dad was a raging narcissist and a homophobe Joel,” Negan finally shoved Joel away from him after taking it for so long. “Because it made you an asshole. Maybe if you stop keeping that side of him alive inside of you, you might actually allow yourself to be happy for once.”

“And you think you’re going to be the one to make me happy?” Joel scoffed, his eyes narrowing when Negan headed for the door to leave.

“I think if you continue to keep this up, you’re never gonna be happy Joel,” Negan frowned lowering his head down, considering his next comment. “When you finally give yourself the chance to be the person you want to be instead of the person the world forces you to be, I think you’re gonna be a much happier person. And I truly want that for you.”

Giving Negan one final glare, Joel rotated on his heel and went over to the bed to drop down on the side of it again, “You have the world right in front of you Joel. A world full of opportunities. And you’re shutting yourself down from it because you’re afraid of a word that your father called you when you were sixteen. Yeah, I know I’m not your dream here. I’m just an extra added bonus. But you love Y/N, maybe consider her for once instead of yourself. And you may find happiness in that.”

Refusing to lift his head, Joel felt the lump that grew at his throat that continue to stay there regardless of how many times he swallowed, “Goodnight Joel.”

And with that, Negan left his room. A tremoring breath escape his throat when he was finally alone to himself. Biting down on his bottom lip, Joel knew that he was being overwhelmed with so many emotions right now that they were too hard to comprehend. And he was going to have to figure out what to do with them. Because as of right now? He had no idea. And that scared him.  

----

Today was another busy day of walking around all of New York City while they tried to fit everything in on their last day. And right now? Joel was alone to himself sitting at the top of the red stairs in the middle of Times Square. Truthfully? This part of New York was hell for him. Everything was busy. There was no doubt about that, but being in the middle of Times Square? It was a once in a lifetime thing. This was not his favorite part of New York City and he never looked forward to coming back. To say he was uncomfortable would be an understatement.

Even though this wasn’t on his to-do list, this was a place that the children were eager to come to. They didn’t want to miss the opportunity to be here. Problem was? With it so close to Christmas, people were shopping. And they were last minute shopping. So that meant that people were rude and it was even more trafficked than it would have been on an average day.

Peter had finagled his mother into taking him to get some donuts. Negan and Elizabeth were checking out something that she wanted to see. And Tommy was in the middle of everything taking a shit load of photos with Maria. Eating it all up.

After Negan left his room last night, Joel couldn’t sleep. His mind was running wild and it was hard to get a brain like that to relax. So that meant he had a lot of coffee today to keep him going. But the number one thing Joel noticed this afternoon when he checked his phone? Just how many e-mails he had received that was linked to his business. Part of him didn’t understand what the hell was going on. Maybe he had been hacked or spammed. So that’s when he decided to look into things. Doing a google search on Negan’s name led him to the most recent articles that were written about him. What came up surprised the hell out of Joel. Because of what happened over the last two days, hundreds of articles appeared to be written about Negan.

Where it seemed to have started was after the day they did that piano playing moment at the toy store. Originally, it seemed to just start off as videos that people posted. Joel knew that people had recorded them and taken photos when they were doing it, but he didn’t expect people to post the videos. Nor did he expect them to go viral like they did. Going through the videos, Joel noticed that a lot of people were making comments about him. Some of them were smart ass people who had to make negative comments. Others were talking about how hot both him and Negan were.

But then came the articles that were written. Some of the paparazzi sites were talking about Negan and how they had obviously picked up on the fact that he was dating Y/N. At this point? She was nameless, but Joel figured that wouldn’t last because people had his name. It wouldn’t take long to do a search on him to realize that he was Y/N’s ex-husband.

Even though he knew it was against his better judgement, Joel couldn’t help but keep looking at these things that he found. Reading the articles about how sexy it was that Negan was dating someone that was unknown. People were saying that Negan was a trendsetter because more people should be dating single mothers. And the thing that infuriated him the most? Those stupid assholes who were making comments assuming that Elizabeth and Peter were Negan’s secret children that he had kept hidden until the end of his career. But deep down Joel knew they were just stupid, trash articles that people were creating in order to draw clicks.

After what Negan did last night for Joel? It ended up everywhere as well too. People showing Negan introducing Joel, but also keeping the cameras rolling to record his performance. And because of that people were writing Joel endlessly at that e-mail. His name had gotten out and obviously people had gone searching for him. The internet moved fast. So that meant he was being sent job offers, e-mails that had nothing to do with his work and people just wanting to interview him to talk to him about Negan. It was infuriating to go through and on his phone it was impossible to fix.

For once in Joel’s life, he was getting a ton of attention. It was the one thing that Joel had wanted more than anything growing up, but today? He found it more so annoying than something he wanted.

After his discussion with Negan last night, this was exactly why he didn’t feel comfortable letting the world know that the three of them could potentially be together. The whole world would know. And they would know almost immediately.

There was part of him that wanted to show Y/N all the articles. Let her know that her face was plastered all over the internet and news channels with people speculating on her relationship with Negan. Some people thought she was a hidden lover. Others thought she was a gold digger. Jealous fans were making nasty comments about her in general. Negan was a hot commodity and people were digging their nails into whatever gossip they could get. This was the thing he was never comfortable with when it came to Negan. All the attention that came with being around Negan. It could be good, but there were also incredible amounts of bad.

“You are surrounded by the prettiest things and yet your nose deep in your phone,” Elizabeth’s voice lured Joel into looking up and gazing over at her with a weak smile. Slowly making her way up the steps had Joel lowering his phone into his lap. “Who are you and what have you done with my father who hates cell phones?”

“The prettiest thing in the world is sitting right now next to me,” Joel flashed a cheesy smile as Elizabeth took a seat beside him. Placing her hand over the center of her chest, Elizabeth played it off like she was touched by her father’s comment.

“Oh, that was good dad,” she admitted, her face scrunching up when she let out an amused sound. Patting her father on the chest, she got more comfortable beside him and sighed. “That was real good. Warmed my heart. Real smooth.”

“It was honest Ellie,” Joel swore, reaching out to wrap his arm around her shoulders. Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he didn’t want to focus on things like that when he should be spending these moments with his daughter. “Nothing else compares to you.”

“There’s a reason I love you as much as I do,” she slid in closer to Joel having him wrap his arms firmly around her to cuddle in next to her. Where they were at, they were in the middle of all the craziness. With Christmas days away, in the middle of Times Square, it was insanity. Growing up, Joel came to love and embrace the quiet life. Here, things were too damn busy with so many people. “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m great,” Joel was quick to respond with Elizabeth pulling back just enough to stare up at him with her dark eyes. Her dimples were visible with the way her eyes narrowed at him. Okay. So that was a lie she no question just picked up on. “What?”

“You’ve been acting weird,” she noted letting her father in on the fact that she wasn’t oblivious to the way that things were. “Especially on this trip. I wish you would be honest with me about things. I know I’m your daughter, but I’m also not far from being an adult. You can talk to me about things.”

“It’s hard for me to acknowledge that you are close to being an adult,” Joel confessed, cringing at the thought of his daughter turning eighteen soon. “I still remember you being a baby, so tiny in my arms. Counting on me to take care of you. It’s hard to think about you being all grown up.”

“You’re being sweet, but changing the subject,” she lowered her head back to Joel’s shoulder to rest her head against it. “We’ve always been really close you know.”

“And I hope we stay that way,” Joel stated with a sigh, his arm loosely hooking around her lower back while he sat with her. “Because I love you, very much.”

“And I love you too,” she assured him with a long sigh. Together they sat in silence until she finally spoke up again. “You’re upset about mom and Negan, right?”

“That’s not really something I should be talking to you about,” Joel admitted, his brow line creasing while considering the question. Although, that probably answered her question without answering it.

“I’m not blind dad. I can see that Negan and mom being together is bothering you,” she pointed out with Joel cuddling her in closer to him with the cool chill that was around them. With them sitting there, it had only just started to snow again and it had Joel huffing out. “And I understand because I always thought you and mom would get back together.”

“Children always want their parents together,” Joel commented and it made Elizabeth scoff. Glancing over at Joel with her eyebrows furrowed made Joel shrug. “They do.”

“Lydia couldn’t wait for her parents to split,” Elizabeth recalled how her friend felt about her own mother. “She couldn’t wait to be with her dad and get away from her mother.”

“Her mother was insane. That’s different,” Joel countered with a grunt remembering the stories that he heard when Lydia moved to town with her father. “I don’t think we are ever going to get back together Ellie, so don’t hold out your hopes for something that may never happen.”

“So you are upset about mom and Negan,” she gathered reaching out to hook her fingers with her father’s. Staring out into the crowd, she couldn’t spot Tommy with Maria nor her mother with Negan and Peter. “Did you tell mom?”

“I think your mom is well aware,” Joel was quiet in the way he said it, being honest but not fully forthcoming. It would be completely inappropriate for him to vent to his teenage daughter about the things he was feeling right now. “I was just too late with things to get back with your mom.”

“So you regret that you two got divorced?” Elizabeth lifted her head to lock eyes with Joel. It looked like he was having conflicting thoughts of what to say or do. So he just nodded his head once and swallowed down hard. That was something Joel had thought about a lot over the last few months. How much he wished he would have just seen someone for help instead of letting his life fall to shit. What he thought he wanted back then was just wrong. And he wished that he had never done it. “I never understood why mom agreed to it.”

“I didn’t allow her the option to say no,” Joel mumbled, his chest aching at the memories of their past. Recently she had stressed to him how the children blamed her for everything and by the children’s comments lately? He realized that Y/N was right. And that was sad because all of this was Joel’s fault. Not hers. “I was going through some things. I was really depressed. I thought it was your mother’s fault and I blamed a lot of things on her. I was just going through a phase and didn’t realize the mistake that I was making.”

“Peter and I were really mad at her for a while,” Elizabeth recalled how they were toward Y/N when their parents first split. “We never understood. When it was the four of us, we were all so happy. And then when night came, we always heard the two of you fighting. Then the night you left…we came to the stairs right before you left. She was sobbing and we heard her scream at you to leave. We always thought it was her fault for not fighting hard enough for you.”

“Your mom fought harder for me than anyone ever did,” Joel reasoned with his daughter, squeezing his fingers tighter around hers. “I was just too blind to see it. I should have seen someone about the depression that I was having, but I confused it with other emotions.”

“Did we really depress you that much?” Elizabeth put the blame on her which had Joel’s heart breaking. “I never really thought it was that bad.”

“It wasn’t you that depressed me Ellie. You and your brother are the only things in this world that I’ve done right,” Joel declared, using his free hand to place it in over his chest. Giving her a weak smile, he squeezed his arm around her to give her a half hug. “I’ve never loved something as much as I love the two of you. I never blamed the two of you for things because you were the only things keeping me here. The things that kept me fighting every single day.”

“You know how much I love you, right?” Elizabeth stammered, evoking a nod from her father.

“I will never turn away hearing it,” Joel insisted glad that he still had this relationship with his daughter because at the end of the day the children meant everything to him. “And I love you so very much. More than anything.”

A grunt escaped Joel followed by a laugh with her arms wrapping around his mid-section to squeeze him close. Appreciating the moment, Joel knew that this would probably be his favorite part of visiting Times Square.

“I wasn’t exactly comfortable with Negan and mom dating at first either,” Elizabeth spilled after releasing him, shifting beside her father to pull her jacket in closer to her body. “It’s kind of weird having your mom dating your celebrity crush that you’ve liked since you were a kid. You two probably should have told me how close mom and him actually were when they were younger. It might have swayed me from liking him as much as I did.”

“I never thought I’d see him again,” Joel grunted with a wrinkle of his nose finding himself still creeped out by the idea that she did have as much of a crush on Negan as she did. “I thought it was innocent. Although, I did tell you for years it was really uncomfortable with you having a crush on a man that was my age.”

This really had to be strange for Elizabeth and it wasn’t something that Joel really thought about. It was an odd place to be put in having your celebrity crush suddenly dating your mother and being around all the time. Then again, if she knew that Negan had slept with both him and Y/N? Well, he could only imagine how she’d feel.

“You don’t still crush on him, do you?” Joel was almost afraid to ask, but he was thankful for the disgusted face that she made.

“It’s kind of creepy thinking about it to be honest with you dad,” she stressed how she felt, waving her free hand about. “I try to forget that I crushed on him as much as I did. He’s cute. He’s nice. And I see why mom likes him, but he gives off such…dad vibes.”

Dad vibes? That wasn’t really the thing that Joel wanted to hear because he was her father. Not Negan. But then again, he was glad that the idea of Negan not being her crush anymore was a plus.

“Negan is really good with us. And he doesn’t look at me like that. It’s like he already stepped into the role of stepdad and he’s…he’s good at it,” Elizabeth continued which only further boiled Joel’s blood at the thought. “I think I was more attracted to the idea of Negan than actually him. Because now when I look at him, he’s more like a soft teddy bear than what I pictured.”

“What did you picture?” Joel wondered, his eyebrow arching in curiosity with the way that his daughter’s face reddened over.

“I don’t think I want to talk about that. Let’s just say that I’ve had to burn a lot of memories, thoughts and feelings in this brain over the last month,” she hissed in an uncomfortable breath, lifting her fingers to point at her temple.

“Dear God,” Joel lowered his head into his other hand and knew this was all so fucking complicated. Of course almost everyone in his family had to be attracted to Negan. This wasn’t Elizabeth’s fault. Being attracted to Negan ran in her blood. “He is charming.”

“Sorry?” she spoke with a smirk having Joel lift his head to gaze out at her. Maybe that was bad to say out loud. No, that wasn’t a maybe. That was bad. His thoughts on Negan should have been kept to himself. “You think he’s charming? I thought you hated him.”

“I do, but I don’t,” Joel didn’t know how to explain it to her. Hell, he didn’t even know how he felt about Negan. There was a side of him that hated Negan with every part of him. But then there was that side that fought so hard to come out that felt something very strong for Negan that he couldn’t explain. And that’s the side of him that confused him the most. But that wasn’t something he was going to tell Elizabeth. “It’s complicated. And I don’t think I should say much more than that.”

“I think you should talk to mom,” Elizabeth brought back their previous conversation having Joel’s jaw flex in frustration. What his children didn’t know was just how hard Joel was really trying to get back with their mother and how many times he had been turned down. “It might not be too late for something between you two.”

“I’ve talked to your mom,” Joel responded with a frown, shaking his head when he spoke. “She knows how I feel, but you see the way she looks at Negan. She’s happy. He makes her happy. The slate is clean with Negan.”

“I…” she started, stopping when Joel looked to her with his saddened brown eyes. Resting her head against his shoulder again had Joel resting his head on top of hers. “I’m sorry.”

Even Elizabeth in that moment could agree that he wasn’t wrong about Negan and Y/N’s relationship with him. He wished he could have moved faster. That he could have done something. But there was nothing that could be done.

At the bottom of the steps, it was then that Joel noticed that Y/N was taking photos of him and Elizabeth together, “Speak of your mother…”

“What?” she lifted her head to see that her mom was standing at the bottom corner of the steps taking photos of them. Rolling her eyes, she looked to Joel and there was a smirk over her young features. “She’s making use of that camera of hers after all these years.”

Getting up from where they were seated, Joel helped Elizabeth move down the steps making sure that she wouldn’t slip. Once they were back on the ground, Elizabeth went to her mother to give her a big hug. Joel was slow walking over to them.

“Where’s Negan?” Joel looked around noticing that neither Peter nor Negan were around.

“A few people stopped him back there somewhere and Peter offered to take their photos for them,” she waved her fingers back behind her with Joel rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Why did that not surprise him? Of course people were jumping on Negan and Negan was going to eat up that attention. “You two looked cute up there.”

“Hey!” a voice boasted causing them to jump only to notice that it was Peter running up to them. “We’re going to go the Hershey’s store!”

“That’s exactly what you need. More sugar,” Joel teased his son, reaching out to stroke his fingers throughout his messy hair. “Didn’t you just eat a donut?”

“I did, but I counter you this,” Peter held his finger up in the air dramatically, his dimples much more visible now that he was being silly with his dad. “I need some for when we go home. A stash if you will.”

“Oh, I see,” Joel snorted noticing that Negan was headed back to be with them. Instead of looking at Negan, Joel hooked his arm around Peter and grumbled something to himself. “Where’s Tommy?”

“I think he said he would call me when they were headed back here. Him and Maria wanted to walk around on their own,” Y/N answered him tipping her head back to press a quit kiss over Negan’s lips when he returned. With a nod of her head, she motioned all of them toward the Hershey’s store with Joel walking with Peter.

Since they had been with Negan, Joel was extremely paranoid. After discovering those articles, videos and photos Joel couldn’t stop thinking about them. There were so many cameras in Times Square but a lot of the time he thought he’d see people taking photos of them. Which annoyed the hell out of him. There were probably those that were taking photos of Negan, but his family being in those photos? That really didn’t work well with him.

Inside the store, Peter made immediately for the shakes area interested in getting one. Joel pulled Elizabeth with them since he was still kind of protective of her. Joel opted out on getting one for himself because his stomach was just not in it right now.

Looking around while they were waiting for their shakes, Joel noticed Y/N and Negan at the other end of the store whispering to each other. They were smiling and laughing which had Joel’s insides turning. When they started kissing, Joel felt his heart rate quicken inside of his chest. It was then he noticed not too far outside of the window there was someone taking photos of Negan with Y/N.

“Hey, can you watch your brother for a second?” Joel requested, side stepping away from his children. Yeah, it probably wasn’t the best move as a father to do this, but he felt a sense of rage flooding his veins. “I’ll be right back. Okay?”

“Everything alright?” Elizabeth seemed worried with Joel heading toward the entrance of the store.

Instead of answering, he was quick to make his way out. They did have someone following them. It looked like a skeezy paparazzi photographer and it infuriated Joel. Thinking of the best way to do this, Joel pulled his jacket in closer to him and started walking fast. It was a busy place, it would make sense if someone ran into another person in the middle of Times Square.

As the photographer lined up another shot, Joel put his head down using his shoulder to plow into the guy knocking him to the ground hard. Just in time Joel was able to catch the camera. With the man on the ground, Joel took advantage looking through the photos realizing that they had been being followed all morning. With quick hands, Joel managed to get the memory card out of the camera and curled his fingers around it.

“Man, you need to learn to be careful. You could have broken this,” Joel handed the camera back to the guy once he started moving. Keeping his head down, Joel did his best to hide who he was with him heading back into the store. Once he got back inside the store, in the distance he could see that Elizabeth and Peter were seated talking to one another while they had their milkshakes. With a huff, Joel pushed the memory card into his back pocket and felt like his face was on fire. There were photos of his children from what he saw on there and that pissed him off. The guy was lucky all he had done was knocked him over.

Right now, more than anything he needed a moment to calm down which had him catching his breath in one of the aisles in front of a shelf with gigantic chocolate bars. Scoffing, he reached out to pick it up reading that it was five pounds of chocolate.

“I bet you could eat that all in one day with your sweet tooth,” Joel heard a whisper in his ear having his eyebrow arch and he looked back over his shoulder to see that Y/N was smiling big behind him. With a shake of his head, Joel put it back down and turned on his heel toward her. “You’re not going to get it?”

“I only have a sweet tooth when it comes to your food,” Joel declared, pushing his hands into his pockets letting out a long exhale. “People don’t make things like you do.”

“Is that what it is?” she smirked, reaching to straighten out his heavy, brown winter jacket. There was a moment of silence between them with her frowning. “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me a little bit today.”

“I have been,” Joel responded with a shrug of his shoulders surprising her with his honesty. After last night Joel was confused. And then finding out all the information he did that was on the internet? It was just hard not to vent about Negan and the negatives that came with being with Negan. “I really wanted to stay away from both you and Negan today.”

“Oh,” she thought about what he said, her face twisting with confusion. He could tell that it upset her. There was color that flooded into her face. “Why? Is this about what happened with Negan last night?”

“Of course he told you,” Joel wasn’t surprised to hear that since Negan did pretty much tell him that he would be telling Y/N everything. Pinching at the bridge of his nose, Joel felt frustrated. He really wished it could have been told to Y/N on his terms. “That’s not the only reason.”

“What’s going on?” she seemed genuinely worried and when she reached for Joel’s hand, he pulled it from her and shook his head. This wasn’t what she was expecting from him. That was for certain. “Talk to me.”

“Not in the middle of the store,” Joel refused, throwing his hand up to bring attention to all the people that were around them. What they needed was to talk. Alone. That’s what they had needed for a very long time, but they hadn’t had the opportunity. “Now really isn’t the time for the two of us to have a full-on discussion about things.”

“Okay,” she didn’t fight him on it because she didn’t want to upset him any further than he clearly already was. Motioning toward the children, Joel left Y/N standing where she was wanting to just focus on spending time with the children right now.

After Joel blew her off, she looked sad, but Joel realized he was probably just reading too much into things. So he avoided it. He spent time with the children. Did what a dad should. Focused on them. They were in Times Square longer than he wanted to be. After their shopping, they walked back to the apartment to drop things off. Then they went walking around again sightseeing.

They stopped in at the St Patrick’s Cathedral which Negan insisted was an absolute must for Joel to see with his contractor background. Y/N and the kids went to sit down, but Joel was uncomfortable so he walked the outskirts looking at the church. Christmas decorations donned the place and Negan was right, this was a stunning location.

“In the summer we should plan a longer trip,” Negan’s whisper pressed in beside him with Joel tensing up. “We can hit up more things. Three days never really feels like enough, does it?”

“You’ll be doing baseball,” Joel reminded Negan who tipped his head from side to side. It sounded like a nice idea, but Joel was a sports fan. He knew the schedule that baseball had. There was no way that Negan would be able to pull that kind of shit off. Unless he didn’t sleep and care to rest. “Hard to make time for things when you’re going to be busy with your job.”

“You guys can come with me when I go to certain cities,” Negan offered, pushing his hands into his pockets with Joel looking around the church. “Spring training is in Fort Myers. It’s about three hours from Orlando. The family can come down and we can all go to Disney World together. I think it would be fun. You’d be surprised how much fun it actually still is even as an adult. It brings out the kid in you and…”

“The kids have school,” Joel scoffed with a shake of his head. Once again Negan was trying way too fucking hard. “They can’t just up and leave whenever they want to.”

“Spring break,” Negan stammered with a weak smile, throwing his right hand up in the air. Somehow, Negan had a response to everything. “Don’t you want to go to the beach? Get some sand between your toes? Have that saltwater touch your skin? We can get you out of all these clothes and get you into a bathing suit…I think you’d look good in a pair of trunks.”

“Enough,” Joel warned Negan who was eyeing Joel over with a smirk. Having Negan so blatantly flirting with him in public felt crazy to Joel. Especially since they were in the middle of a busy church. “How are you even comfortable being anywhere near me right now in…this place? After last night.”

“The church?” Negan snorted, his brow line furrowing with Joel giving him attitude. “What? You think the two of us are going to be set ablaze the moment we step inside of a church? If that was the case, everyone would probably be on fire in here right now.”

“We’re not together Negan,” Joel made it clear for Negan who tipped his head to the side. Even though something happened last night, there were a lot of negative emotions that Joel had toward him. Especially after what he had seen this morning with Negan being in the news and all this attention being brought on him and his family. “I’m not even comfortable with what happened last night. Acting like we’re all one big, happy family that is going to take trips together all the time is just…weird.”

“Why is it weird?” Negan pushed, his eyes narrowing when he stepped in closer to make their conversation quieter. “It’s bad that I want to be close to you and your family?”

Letting out an extended sigh, Joel folded his arms in front of his chest and didn’t even know what to say. Stepping forward, Negan whispered in Joel’s ear so only he could hear, “How are you uncomfortable with last night when you came as much as you did those three times? You’re the one that wanted it. And you sure as hell didn’t sound like you hated it.”

Shoving Negan back had him stumbling over his feet again but managing to catch himself before he fell. It drew some people’s attention, but Negan held his hands up with a simple shrug, “Sorry. I’m a klutz.”

Grabbing Negan by the arm, Joel led him back toward the front of the church. Getting him outside on the steps, Joel pulled him over into the corner so they were alone, “Don’t mention last night again. Last night shouldn’t have fucking happened.”

“You liked last night,” Negan reminded Joel with confusion behind his hazel eyes. “I know it’s hard coming to terms with your sexuality. Especially when you think things are a certain way most of your life and then you…”

“I’m nothing like you,” Joel grabbed a tight hold of Negan’s jacket pressing him against the wall of the church. There was a rush of heat flooding into Joel’s face. For the last few weeks he had been fighting to get Y/N’s attention. To get back with her. And now having feelings for the man that was supposed to be his competition while also still wanting to get back with his ex-wife was throwing him through the ringer. “Do you understand me?”

“Fine, you’re nothing like me,” Negan didn’t know what to say, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip. There was still obviously that trouble Joel was having getting used to the idea that he may have feelings for another man. “But pretending you are one way when you’re not is really fucking sad Joel. You gave into what you wanted last night Joel. You shouldn’t feel bad about it. I’m not ashamed of it. And neither should you be. Everyone has done something that people will fucking judge. People fucking suck. They are gonna judge you whether you do what they want or not. Do things that make you fucking happy and feel good. Fuck everyone else.”

“Just…back off for a while Negan,” Joel requested, releasing Negan and shaking his head. Brushing his fingers shakily through his dark hair, Joel felt his heart pounding in his chest and he knew that he had to calm down. “My children don’t need to know that both of their parents are fucking you. You are making it way too obvious in public. And Ellie already feels weird enough that you are fucking her mother.”

“That’s not my intentions,” Negan stammered, his thick eyebrows arching with frustration. “I just care about you. A lot. I care about Y/N and your children.”

“You’re not our family Negan,” Joel reminded Negan having his jaw flexing in upset. It felt like a lot of the time Negan forgot how things were and Joel felt like he had to put Negan in his place. “You abandoned all of us. You could have been family this whole time. You could have been part of everything, but you ran off and you left us behind. Now it’s almost twenty years later and you’re acting like you’ve been here all along. You’re a stranger to this family. And you didn’t have to be like that.”

An array of emotions flooded into Negan’s face and it looked like he was ready to say a whole lot more, but the sound of Peter and Elizabeth calling out to them was heard. Instead they both shut up real fast and followed the children around for what would be their final walk of the night. In the morning they would pack everything back into the car and head home.

When they got back to the apartment, everyone headed upstairs, but Y/N had asked Joel to walk with her and promised they would be back inside soon. They headed over to the Christmas tree at Rockefeller and found a place to sit where they would have some kind of privacy. It irritated Joel because he really didn’t want to be here. If anything, he was just getting angrier about everything.

“This is really beautiful,” she alerted him, pointing toward the tree and enjoying the environment that was around them. It surprised him that was the first thing she said, but she seemed to be really taking it all in. A tense exhale escaped his lips when he felt her hand slipping in with his to hold it. Right now? He didn’t realize that they were at a point where they were back to handholding. “We always talked about coming here, but I think with it being Christmas it was really the best time to come. It’s beautiful. Our town tries, but you can’t really beat the magic of this.”

“I guess,” Joel didn’t know what to say. Again, he wasn’t the biggest fan of Christmas. So for him, this was just an experience for him to have with his family. “It should have been me bringing my family here first though. Not Negan.”

“I think he was just excited,” she made an excuse for the way that Negan was. “You weren’t around at this point, but when Negan was a kid his dad went on a business trip to New York. Brought home this Statue of Liberty bobble head for Negan and always promised that he would take him. And you know that Negan’s dad never really did anything for him and his mom. So that was the thing he always longed for the most growing up. When he heard that we never went, I think he wanted to be different than his dad.”

“Are you trying to say I’m like Negan’s dad?” Joel snarled with her eyes growing big. Shaking her head immediately, she sat forward where she was sitting and Joel could feel his heart pounding inside of his chest. Pulling his hand away from her, Joel realized there was a heat rushing to his face.

“No,” she was strong in the way she stood her ground. “Not at all.”

“You were comparing me to Negan’s dad. I always told our children that we would come here, and we didn’t. Just like Negan’s dad did to him,” Joel stated, his eyebrows showing that he was angry. Color flooded into her features and she was stammering over her words.

“Joel, no. I was just explaining why Negan was eager to bring everyone here. He wanted to do something nice because when he was younger he was denied the chance of coming here when his father came here all the time,” she defended herself, placing her hand in over the center of her chest. “I swear to you, I would never compare you with Negan’s dad. You are an incredible father. You never hurt your children the way that Negan’s dad hurt him.”

“You know…” Joel was ready to erupt, but instead he bit down on his bottom lip and grunted out. “Forget it.”

“I’m sorry, I just think we’re all happy to be here,” she reached her hand out to place it in over Joel’s knee to give it a firm squeeze. “You and I wanted to come here for our honeymoon. Then we wanted to do it for an anniversary, but…”

“We were poor,” Joel hissed out, lifting his head to meet her stare. “We didn’t come here for a honeymoon because I was a twenty-year-old doing everything that he could to keep his head above the water. Not wanting to drown his little brother, his wife and his daughter with him. We never had the money to come here Y/N,” Joel seemed to be letting loose on all the things that were deep in his mind. There was so much stress that had been building up inside of him that he was having a hard time keeping it back. “You see, this was the thing about our relationship that always sucked. You were always so focused on the things I wasn’t doing. Instead of the things that I was doing.”

“Where is this coming from?” she seemed genuinely confused, her back straightening with her trying to touch Joel, but he slid further away from her. “Joel?”

“I wasn’t romantic enough for you. I didn’t think out good gifts. I wouldn’t cuddle you at night. I didn’t talk enough to you. I didn’t show you that I loved you. I didn’t do the fucking dishes,” Joel recalled their fights from the few years before they got divorced. “It wasn’t, hey…my husband goes and works his fucking ass off every day to make sure we don’t lose everything.”

“I never doubted the things that you did for us Joel,” she stuttered, visibly distraught with his explosion. Looking around, she made sure that people weren’t paying attention to them and she shook her head. “What’s going on? I thought we were okay. After the talk we had at the bar the other night…”

“What talk at the bar?” Joel snapped, his voice growing more tense. That was when he realized that a lot of what happened that night, Joel had forgotten.

“When we danced. You were really sweet,” she reminded him getting Joel’s expression to soften and she shook her head. “We were talking about you up on stage. How the only thing that kept you from freaking out was me. How I was the thing that grounded you. Kept you from running away. And then you started talking about how good Negan was for both of us. That you thought the best way for us to be together was to have him with us. And when we got home you talked to us at the table about it. Telling Negan how in love you were with me and how you couldn’t give me up. How you didn’t want to fight anymore. But you were still upset with him over the whole singing thing because he put you on the spot.”

“That doesn’t sound like me at all,” Joel snorted, his heart racing at the idea. How was that something that he would even do or suggest? “I was loving and sweet with you at the bar? After I was infuriated with you for deciding that you wouldn’t leave Negan for me?”

“You were,” she insisted, her face showing that she didn’t understand why he was acting out again. “We danced a long time. And you kept singing to me. Saying things…” she paused, her lips parting and he could see that she was upset. “You sounded like the old Joel again.”

“I’m fairly certain that was a dream you had,” Joel stressed, his chest aching at the idea that he couldn’t even remember doing that. Yeah, he remembered dancing with her. But other than that, there wasn’t much he did recall from that night. And when he was at the dinner table? He thought that Y/N was lecturing him. Not that he was making a deal for all three of them to be together. “After today? I know for a fact that I would never think that Negan being added to our relationship would be a good idea.”

“It wasn’t a dream Joel. Why would I lie to you?” she inquired, looking around to make sure that no one was listening in on their discussion. “Negan didn’t believe you at the table either. That’s why I assumed what happened with you and Negan happened. Because you wanted to prove that you were okay with it. You said that I was the happiest you had ever seen me on this trip. That you made me happy and he made me happy. That you just wanted to give it all a try.”

“The person you’re talking about doesn’t even exist,” Joel noted, his hands resting in his lap while he circled his fingers there. “Because I’m ashamed of what I did with Negan. My father would be rolling in his grave that I let another man do that to me. And the people in the town? They would have a field day with this. Have you even looked at the internet the last few days? Our family? You and me? We’re all over it. And it’s not good things Y/N. If you think Negan would be good for us, then you are a fool. Because he’s not. And trust me, whatever may have happened the other night. Whatever I said? None of it was real. The old Joel? You didn’t love the old Joel. You divorced the old Joel.”

“None of it was real?” she countered, her eyes narrowing. A flood of emotions were running through her and Joel went to speak up, but he couldn’t. “But you were so sweet. And…I’m not the one that wanted to divorce you Joel.”

“As you like to remind me,” Joel noted with a roll of his eyes, dropping his head down noticing the way that his body was tremoring.

“Why is it always the same fight with us?” she frowned, biting down on her bottom lip. Considering what to say next, she sighed and felt a chill around her. “This is where I would remind you that when you were with me that the only things you focused on were the things you could never have being with me. The things that I kept you from,” she felt like she was beating the same drum watching Joel’s Adam’s apple bounce in his throat. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I thought things were getting better between the two of us…”

“Why? Because you let me have your sloppy seconds in a threesome with Negan?” Joel turned his head, his words coming out sharp. Clearly she thought things were okay because of whatever conversation they had the other night before he slept with Negan. With what he had just said, he could tell that it really surprised her. “Thanks Y/N. I’m glad that I got to share your pussy with your boyfriend. Heaven fucking knows I should feel lucky.”

Something changed in her eyes and she nodded her head slowly, lowering it to look down at the ground, “What did you think was going to happen with the two of us? That I’d be through the fucking roof? That I would go home waving a flag around telling people that I’m in a poly relationship with a woman and a fucking man? Do you really think that I’m that type? You knew what my family was like Y/N. How do you think I would be okay with something like that?”

“I don’t know,” she exhaled, keeping her eyes locked on the Christmas tree. Clearly, she thought this was going to be a sweet moment between the two of them, but he was releasing all of his stresses on her about everything that was going on. So he could see by her body language that she was just shutting down all together again.

“You know if I asked you to be part of a threesome with me and Tess, you would have slapped the shit outta me,” Joel grunted, his jaw flexing when she nodded her head about. There was a rage that had been growing inside of him for days. From the over stimulation of everything to seeing how the news articles were reporting about their family. This was all too much for him and he was finally exploding. “I don’t get to flaunt my girlfriend off in front of you, but you can flaunt your perfect boyfriend off in front of me?”

“You flaunted every chance you got with Tess,” she corrected Joel, her eyes tearing over when she looked to him with anger in her eyes. “Don’t pretend you didn’t. You wanted me to hurt. You fucking hated me when you were with Tess and you wanted me to feel pain. To know that you found someone other than me.”

An angered sound escaped Joel’s lips when he rolled his eyes and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, “I thought you liked Negan. With the two of you doing what you did last night, it sounded like things were good. The difference between Tess and Negan is that you have always liked Negan. Except when you didn’t. I always thought something happened between you and Negan when we were younger. I knew Negan was a virgin, but the way you looked at him…I don’t know. I always figured that was kind of why you didn’t like me when I liked you. And then when you started getting all handsy with him and the two of you slept together…”

“Please don’t talk about it,” Joel begged, holding his hand out in a pleading manner. “I can’t. I can’t do this.”

“Why are you upset about this? If you didn’t want to do something, you wouldn’t have,” she whimpered, the warmth of her tears burning at her eyes. “You never did something unless you wanted to do it Joel. There is nothing wrong with you for being attracted to…” her words came to a halt with Joel glaring out at her behind his angered brown eyes. “There is nothing wrong with it. I get it. Negan has always been very appealing. And I’m okay with all of this.”

“There is something wrong with you for being okay with it,” Joel claimed, his voice growing deeper with disbelief. “You shouldn’t be okay with us doing what we did.”

“I just thought it was the three of us so…” she began and it had Joel laughing in a way that felt like he was belittling her. “I love the both of you. And you seem to feel a certain way about Negan that’s…”

“You don’t love me,” Joel interrupted her, his eyes narrowing at her. Right now he was hurting her and he knew that, but he didn’t’ care in the moment. “You know, he’s not as good of a man as you think he is. Right?”

“I don’t think you nor Negan are bad men. I know who Negan is,” she decided for herself, pulling her coat tighter to her body. “He’s never hidden who he is from me.”

Of course that’s where she was going to go with it. Negan told her everything so that was another thing that could be held over him, “And what he did for you yesterday at the bar, that was really nice of him. You wanted to be a musician so bad and you really haven’t played in front of people since high school. You did amazing.”

“Yeah, Negan is a fucking saint,” Joel mocked, cussing under his breath at the thought of it all. “Do you know that I can’t even read my work e-mails? After the whole piano thing and what happened at the bar, I have so many fucking people contacting me. Wanting to hire me or contact me for some other kind of business opportunities? I have hundreds of e-mails today because of him.”

“That’s a good thing,” she thought aloud, circling her finger around them. “Think of all the opportunities it can open you and the business up to.”

“But you’re missing the whole point,” Joel asserted, throwing his hands up in disbelief. “These aren’t people that are contacting me because I’m good at my job. These are people that are contacting me because I went viral. Our fucking piano dance went viral on social media. So did what happened at the bar. These are people contacting because I’m friends with fucking Negan Smith. It’s not because I’m a good worker where they saw what I was capable of.”

“I’m confused, isn’t this a good thing?” she questioned, her face twisting with trying to understand where he was coming from. “At least you could be able to prove yourself to people with this chance you are being given.”

“Everything I’ve done for myself, I’ve done it on my own,” Joel fumed at the idea of people wanting to hire him just for knowing Negan. “I don’t need Negan coming into my life and making my life suddenly magical. Because then I owe him everything and I don’t want to owe him anything.”

Hearing Joel go off, she didn’t know how to respond to his rant. There were positive things that she could say, but everything seemed to be wrong between them right now.

“You know, Negan has the life that I always fucking wanted,” Joel confessed with a hesitant laugh, shaking his head and squeezing his palms into fists. Even though he didn’t mean for it to happen, he was exploding all of his emotions onto her. “And Negan has shown me what a hypocrite you truly are.”

“What?” she didn’t seem to understand where he was headed.

“You always told me that it didn’t matter that I was normal. That even though I didn’t get to become famous you still loved me. That I was perfect just the way that I was,” Joel reminded her of the things she would often say to him to make him feel better when he’d have depression when they were younger about the things that never came in life. “Yet Negan comes in and he has everything I wanted. He’s rich. He’s giving. People love him. And he can make anything happen with the snap of his fingers. And you are fucking twitterpated. You are obsessed with him. You told me that wasn’t the life you wanted. That wasn’t the kind of person that you wanted, yet you are picking him over me in every way. So either you are a hypocrite or you are a liar. Or maybe you’re both.”

“I don’t see Negan like that,” she swore, placing her hand in over the center of her chest. “You know how I felt about Negan when we were younger. He was the most important person in the world to me. My best friend. He was the boy that lived next door to me. He was sweet. He was caring…”

“And you didn’t want him,” Joel interrupted her with a scowl getting her eyes to lock with his again. “You didn’t care about him. You wanted me. I was the one that you wanted. I kiss you once and you’re eager for me to take you back to my bed to have sex with me. You ripped Negan’s heart out of his chest, you stomped on it and you didn’t give a shit. You didn’t care about that poor boy that lived next door. No, you care about him now that he’s perfect. Now that he has so much fucking money.”

“Are you insinuating that I’m a gold digger?” she wondered, her bottom lip trembling with the things that Joel was saying about her.

“No, I don’t think you’re a gold digger. I think you’re enamored by shiny things because you never got to have them in your life,” Joel claimed, stroking his fingers through his messy hair. “Negan offers you the life that we both wanted but couldn’t have. Instead of working for it, Negan can easily hand it to you. You’re happy. You’re off living the glory life with Negan while I’m still at home, fucking alone and miserable. How is that fair?”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized with a shuddering breath. “If anything, I can admit this, maybe I’m selfish and greedy. Because I love the both of you. I don’t want you alone Joel. There is half of me that loves him, but the other half is head over heels in love with you.”

Joel looked to her, his brown eyes lacking emotion right now while she tried to explain herself but she was coming up short, “Maybe with you playing last night, you can finally have some of the life that you always wanted that you could never have when you were with me. I thought the three of us together was an option that you were okay with. I thought having both me and Negan would make you happy too. Negan brings out parts of you that I couldn’t even do. Getting you to do that piano thing? You were so happy and you had so much fun. Then getting you up on stage? No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get you to do that growing up. You love me, but with Negan…”

“There is nothing between Negan and I,” Joel stressed, the muscles in his body locking up when she explained clearly where she was getting that information from. Sitting to himself, Joel hated that he allowed himself to get so comfortable and relaxed with Negan like he did for a while. Liking a man like that, just didn’t seem right. So he swiftly changed the subject. “I bet if I had the life that Negan had, we would still be together,” Joel commented, his muscles flexing with him trying to hold his anger in. “I could have cheated on you and you’d still be with me because at least you’d have those shiny things and we’d be happy.”

“Cheated on me?” she repeated with Joel looking to her with his eyebrows bouncing in the air.

“I’m just making a point,” Joel scoffed, leaning back to brace some of his weight on his hands. “I think you picked me over Negan when we were younger because I was the one with more potential. I was the more popular one. I had the better parents. I had better prospects. Scouts already planning on snatching me up when we were younger. I was the shiny one that you were drawn to. I guess it’s too fucking bad that you picked the wrong one.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I was in love with you Joel. I knew before I was even a pre-teen that you were made for glorious things and that’s why I crushed on you. I thought you were going to make loads of money and that’s exactly what a little girl thinks,” she pressed at the tears over her face hating that Joel was going straight to this. “I knew nothing about you. When you came to that door the first time? I saw you and I fell in love with you immediately. It was love at first sight for me. With your big brown eyes. The dimples where one was more prominent than the other. You were so cute. And then when you were around…”

“I treated you like shit,” Joel reminded her of what he was like when he was a child. “I was miserable. So I treated everyone like shit. I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to go back to Texas. But you didn’t take the hint. You wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone. I couldn’t stand you at first Y/N. The only reason we started hanging out was because you beat the shit out of that kid that was bullying Tommy. I thought then maybe you were worth my time. But even then? I still preferred to be around Negan. You were so desperate to have me like you. And I didn’t. You were a cool girl that everyone liked because you were awesome. But I never liked you like that. You even knew that, that’s why you and Negan hooked up. And I know you used Negan to make me jealous. I just think it’s a little sad that he never realized it. It was cruel. Which is why I have a hard time believing right now that Negan is the man for you. Because the moment I felt anything for you, the moment I gave you attention. You hopped on my dick as fast as you could. I kissed you once, I took you back to my home and you were just begging for me to take your virginity. And I didn’t even have to be romantic. So whatever you’re pulling with Negan right now? You need to let go of it. Because I know I’m your obsession. Not him. It’s always been me. You never loved him. He’s just everything you want me to be so you feel like you have to be with him. He’s too nice to let go. Me? We have history. There is pain. But you know, just as well as I do that your heart? It belongs to me. And you will go through endless amounts of whatever life throws at you because you want to be with me. And you’re hurting the both of us right now because you feel bad. You made Negan think there was something there and there isn’t.”

“I really can’t tell whether you like me or not,” she claimed with a broken breath, her eyes narrowing showing that she was hurt. “Right now, I think you’re upset because you realize that you love me, but you’re attracted to Negan. And that scares you. So you’re taking things out on me. Like you have always done in moments of being upset and not being able to handle things. I’m the only person you can treat like shit because you know I’ll always take it because I love you.”  

“Is that what is going wrong with me?” Joel chuckled, his eyebrows bouncing up when he shook his head slowly. “I’m having a hard time coming to terms with being bisexual so that’s why I’m feeling the way that I’m feeling. It can’t possibly be that I’m upset with how things have been?”

“Do you know what the difference between you and Negan is?” she interrupted his thought process.  

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this one,” Joel snickered, his head following her movements when she stood up from where they were seated.

“I broke Negan’s heart and he forgave me,” she acknowledged with a nod of her head, stray tears still falling from her eyes. Broken breaths escaped her throat as she tried to wipe them away. “You keep breaking my heart and I’m supposed to be the one that apologizes for it. You shattered my heart into pieces and I blamed myself. It was my fault. And then you kept breaking my heart, but I apologized to you. Because it had to be my fault. I had to have done something wrong.”

Joel said nothing with her starting to sob before him and she shook her head, “forget it.”

“Hey!” Joel called out to her, stopping her when she went to head back for the apartment. Hooking his fingers around her wrist, Joel pulled her back to him.

“You had four years,” she breathed out, sounding incredibly sad about this whole discussion. “Four years to do the bare minimum and I would have taken you back in a heartbeat because I am so head over heels in love with you.”

There were so many people around them, but in that moment it felt like she was the only person that was there for him.

“I don’t question that Negan loves me,” she whispered, her reddened over eyes staring up at him. “But I can’t tell if you love or hate me Joel.”

Sure, he should have said something, but nothing was coming out, “I have always loved you. When I married you Joel, I never loved something more in my life. You were everything I wanted and more,” she whimpered, her head shaking when she spoke. “You want me to pick you Joel? Give up everything with Negan? Prove to me that you love me. Show me that I’m the person that you want to be with. Convince me that you love me. I will reconsider everything if you prove to me right now that you love me. If giving up Negan is the thing that will bring the old Joel back and we can be happy again, then I’ll do it. Just give me a sign that’s what I have to do. If it’s going to make you happy and it will bring back the man I originally married? Then I will do it in an instant.”

Dropping his hand down at his side, Joel’s eyelids grew heavy with his eyes hooked on hers. A breath caught in his throat when she stepped in closer to him. Pressing her hand in over the center of his chest, she tipped up on her toes to faintly brush her lips over his. Letting her kiss him, Joel imagined this was exactly the kind of thing she would have found romantic when they were younger. Kissing in front of the tree, the snow, the moment all together.

What was sad? He believed that. He could tell by the way that she was kissing him that she meant everything that she said. All he had to do was promise her that they could be what they were and she would give up Negan for him. Because that was the time where she was the happiest. He was her happy place. There were no doubts in his mind that if he promised her what she wanted to hear, he could have exactly what he wanted.

But as she kissed him, he thought about the other things that were said before this. How he treated her just being upset about things now. Truthfully? She probably was right. This was his anger about his emotions toward Negan making him feel wrong because of his father. So he was erupting on her. Just now? He treated her fucking terrible. And she was willing to give everything up for him. And then that made him think about how happy Negan seemed to make her. How Negan went above and beyond for everyone. Even though Joel didn’t agree with the whole paparazzi thing and his family being in the limelight, Negan would never hurt her like this. Negan never hurt her like he had. And he’d likely hurt her again. Because Joel was a negative person. Someone who tried hard to be the best version of himself, but he still had a lot of negative thoughts and angry emotions inside of him. And she didn’t deserve to constantly be sad. She deserved to be showed endless amounts of love where she was pampered.

This was everything he wanted, but he knew that he couldn’t take it. And he knew the only way for him to get her to pick Negan completely was to break her heart again. Joel wasn’t good enough for Negan nor Y/N. It just made more sense for him to be alone.

When she pulled her lips from his, he tipped his head back and shook his head, “You’re not the woman I married. I was confused. I thought I loved you, but I don’t…” Joel paused, letting a tremoring breath escape him. It was a lie, but he had to say something to push her away. Right now he could have gotten her to leave Negan in an instant. That was how certain he was after that kiss, but then he couldn’t stop thinking about all the horrible shit he had done to her. How broken he made her. And he realized…she deserved better than him. Even if it was with Negan. “We only got married because you got pregnant with Ellie. Do you really think we would have done that if you didn’t?”

She said nothing. He wasn’t sure if she could. Emotional was an understatement.

“Let’s think like adults for a minute,” Joel began, his throat going dry. “If my parents never died, we would have never gotten married. At home, I was infatuated with you. You were mine. But if I would have went to school, I would have slept with lots of other women. Then you would have gone off to school and started a life of your own. We would have never stayed together.”

Nothing. No words. That shocked him even more.

“Or if we played things out this way. My parents died leaving me to take care of Tommy. I was stuck here. We had sex all the time. You got pregnant. Your parents kicked you out of your home because you refused to get an abortion. I married you because I thought it was the right thing to do. Not because I wanted to get married. Because I was responsible for you now and the baby growing inside of you,” Joel’s voice grew darker when he recounted their past together. What he was doing was selling their life short and making a mockery of it because it was the only sure way that he knew she would go directly to Negan. “If I would have pulled out or spent the extra bucks to get condoms you would have never gotten pregnant. You would have never moved in. You would have gone off to school and you would have abandoned me. We both know the only reason we got married is because of Ellie.”

“I would have abandoned you?” she whispered with Joel nodding. “You were my whole world. I picked you over everything. My whole entire life.”

There was silence only interrupted by the sob that she released, “I’m not the woman that you married? Well, you’re not the man that I married Joel. The Joel that I married was selfless. He showed love. He may have been depressed, but he loved and he loved deeply. You pretending it was something less than that is an absolute lie.”

“You tell yourself whatever makes you feel better,” Joel suggested with a tip of his head. “I don’t love you Y/N. You were a marriage out of guilt. Nothing more. I’ve only been so focused on getting back with you because…”

A shuddering breath fell from her lips with a single nod of her head, holding her hand up to alert him that he needed to stop. In those last few minutes, he broke her heart again and he knew it. Giving Joel a final once over, she headed back toward the apartment building leaving him alone.

Inhaling sharply, there was part of Joel that wondered if he should go after her. Instead, he just let her leave. Going back to where he was sitting with her previously, Joel stayed there for quite some time just waiting. Watching people together. So many people around him were happy. They were with their families, friends, their loved ones and they were swept up in the holiday spirit.

And then there was him.

Getting up from where he was seated, Joel started to walk around knowing that he wasn’t ready to go back to the apartment just yet. Stopping at the bar that Negan took them to last night, Joel considered things and got in line to get in. Maybe he would just take a moment to relish one more time. It was highly unlikely that he would ever come back to this place. He would get wasted and then head back to the apartment.

In the distance, Joel saw a pair of eyes locking on him and he noticed it was the security guard that had pushed him up onto the stage last night. Moving down the line, he wiggled his fingers at Joel to follow him. Thinking things over, Joel realized that he was having a lot of problems with being treated better because of Negan, but right now he was going to take up their offer.

“What were you doing getting in the line Mr. Miller?” the security guard stammered, leading Joel toward the entrance of the club. “You know that you will always be welcome here. Either mention the owners name or if you see me, come to me.”

“That’s…nice,” Joel didn’t know what to say stepping into the bar realizing how many people he just got to pass up in order to get here. Instead of what it was like last night, Joel just headed over to the busy bar and order himself a whiskey. Sitting to himself listening to the sounds of the loud talking and the music booming through the place had him feeling even more lonely than he thought he would feel.

“Mr. Miller,” another voice boomed with an arm wrapping around his shoulders eliciting an uncomfortable breath from Joel. It was the owner of the club and he looked excited to see Joel there. “I thought that was you! We had a lot of broken hearts last night with all the women that were here wishing that they were going home with you, but you left.”

“I’m sure,” Joel managed to snake himself out from underneath the arm of the owner, going back to drink his whiskey.

“What are you doing with this shit?” the owner scoffed, waving his fingers at the bartender to come over. “You get this man the highest quality whiskey we have. And the bill is on me. Get him whatever he wants.”

With an obedient nod, the bartender did just that and Joel huffed. All this because he was friends with Negan?

“Have you come to play for us again tonight?” the man questioned having Joel laugh and shrug his shoulders. “I’m serious. I think the people here would really enjoy it.”

“Why?” Joel was blunt, his eyes narrowing when he turned on the bar stool that he was seated on. “What do you owe Negan?”

“What do I owe Negan?” the man repeated with a wrinkle of his nose. “Nothing. I just like what I heard last night and I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“It wasn’t my music and I don’t have a guitar,” Joel pointed out, drinking down the glass of expensive whiskey that he was given letting out a loud hiss when he swallowed.

“No one here sings their original music my friend,” the owner pointed toward the stage where a younger artist was also singing popular music of the time. “You want someone here to steal your music and then claim it as your own? No, I don’t think so.”

Waving for another drink for Joel, the owner sighed loudly and shrugged his shoulders, “I hate the audience that we are drawing lately. You are a different kind of a draw and I like it. We have the same guitar in the back, I’ll get it for you and you can sing some things for us.”

“Did one of your acts not show up?” Joel inquired with a smirk when the owner didn’t respond. With a laugh, Joel pointed at the owner and shook his head. “That’s what I thought.”

“You don’t like having the limelight on you?” the man stammered, eyeballing Joel over when he swallowed down the next glass of whiskey that was before him. “Sing for these people. Sing whatever your heart desires. You’ll be doing me a favor and you get to know what it feels like to have people wanting you. To be the center of attention for the second night in a row…”

“Fine,” Joel grumbled having the man clap his hands together. “I can’t promise I’ll be any better than yesterday. I’m kind of in a shit mood.”

“Angst. That shit sells better than anything,” the man suggested, motioning Joel to wait. “I’ll go get the guitar. When this act is done, you can go up. Just don’t try to run this time. Okay?”

Doing as he was told, Joel listened like a good boy. Got another drink in before he was called to the stage. Tonight, he didn’t have a support system. Y/N wasn’t standing by the stage to let him know that everything would be okay. That regardless of what happened, she would be there to stand by him every step of the way. Today he was alone. The very thing he did to himself.

Starting to strum at the guitar, Joel let the first thing that came to mind fall from his lips.

“I hurt myself today,” Joel sang with an awe from the crowd to those that knew the chord and the lyrics. “To see if I still feel. I focus on the pain. The only thing that’s real.”

With this one? It was mixed this time from both men and women that liked it. Last night, most of the audience was women that were enjoying the things that he was singing. They were romance songs. This song? Hurt was about self-destruction.

“The needle tears a hole. The old familiar sting. Try to kill it all away. But I remember everything,” Joel continued on, looking toward the place Y/N had been standing the night before. Telling her that he didn’t love her echoed in his mind. Replaying like a moment from a movie. The way she looked at him. The pain she undoubtedly felt. “What have I become? My sweetest friend. Everyone I know goes away in the end. And you can have it all. My empire of dirt. I will let you down. I will make you hurt.”

Misery flooded his veins, but he kept at it. Maybe it made him sound better. But he continued the song. Having a bigger reaction than he did last night by the time he finished it. Several more songs came to him, until he decided he had enough. Right now? He felt empty. And singing what he was just made him feel worse.

Avoiding the crowd of people, Joel went back to the bar and got himself another drink. He regretted doing that. It was stupid and unnecessary. Finishing his drink, Joel slammed the glass down on top of the bar and started to head toward the door.

“You’re leaving so early?” a familiar voice called out to Joel having him stop before he could leave. Looking back over his shoulder, Joel saw the same familiar set of green eyes. “You didn’t even look like you enjoyed that today. And people were sold on it.”

“Maggie,” Joel breathed her name, surprised that she was there. Then he remembered what Negan told him about her. “You’re here again?”

“With a few of my friends too,” she responded, nodding her head back toward a table in the corner. “You’re alone this time?”

“I am,” Joel answered, straightening up his posture when she stepped in closer to him.

“So tell me Joel,” Maggie stepped forward, her hand dipping between them to palm in over the center of Joel’s pants having him let out a sharp exhale. “Is everything bigger in Texas?”

“You tell me,” Joel grunted, his brow line creasing with her pressing in closer to him.

“My friend lives a few blocks from here. There’s three of us,” Maggie alerted Joel with a tip of her head. “What do you think?”

“You’re persistent,” Joel reached for her wrist to pull it from his body with a scoff.

“Tonight I’m willing to share you,” Maggie offered with a shrug of her shoulders. “Wouldn’t you like that? Being pampered by three beautiful women? It looks like you could use it.”

Thinking things over, Joel bit down on his bottom lip and then nodded once, “I’ll be right back.”

Waiting, Joel wondered if he was making a mistake or not. He would have loved something like this when he was younger. Three women willing to pamper his every need. He’d be crazy to turn something like that down.

But then again? He was crazy. Because he just devastated the woman of his dreams because he didn’t think he was good enough for her. She was willing to give herself over completely to him and he hurt her again.

Swiftly stepping aside, Joel was quick to move toward the exit of the building. When he gazed back over his shoulder he saw Maggie returning to where she was with her friends looking for him. That wasn’t what he wanted. And he was a fool for even considering it.

Sneaking out as quickly as he could, Joel was swift to make his way back through the streets of New York. Finding his way back to the apartment building, Joel knew that he needed to tell Y/N how he really felt instead of letting his hurt feelings speak for him. Allowing her to think that he didn’t love her was the worst possible thing he could do tonight. Not having her at the bar tonight made him realize that without her, things weren’t gratifying for him. Even if he did have the life that he always wanted, it wouldn’t make him happy. Because she was the thing that made him happy. Not the spotlight of music. She was his inspiration. The thing that made his heart full. With her there last night, he knew that he had someone there that loved him. Someone that would lift him up if everything failed.

At the apartment, he almost slid across the floor with how fast he was moving when he got through the security to get to the elevator. He couldn’t push the buttons fast enough. She left him crying tonight and that really was the last thing that he wanted.

With the elevator doors opening, Joel ran out into the apartment realizing that the lights were off. Everyone had gone to sleep and no one was up waiting for him. Clearing his throat, he stumbled through the living room and headed for the bedroom that he knew Negan and Y/N were in. He’d just ask to talk to her alone so he could do exactly what she asked of him. Tell her how much he loved her and how nothing felt worth a damn with her not in his life. That was his problem. Life felt empty without her.

Pushing open the door, Joel stopped in his tracks when he saw with the small amount of light that was filtering into the room that her head was buried against the center of Negan’s chest. She had been crying and he knew that by how she looked. Stepping back toward the doorframe, Joel hid himself in the shadows.

Negan had her wrapped up in his arms in a loving manner. Holding her in a way that Joel hadn’t in years. This was the very thing she wanted. The thing that she had begged him for when they were still married. Tenderness. Love. Affection. Everything she wanted from him, she had with Negan.

A shift in breathing alerted Joel that Negan had woken up and instantly he lifted his head to check on Y/N. His fingers brushed over her shoulders and he placed a loving kiss over her head, “I love you. So much.”

That was all he needed to hear to realize that nothing he could do would prove that he was the better option. Negan was everything she wanted, everything she needed that she was lacking with him. There was nothing he could give her because in Negan, Joel saw exactly what it was that Y/N wanted. Pure love.

Backstepping away from the bedroom, Joel felt like a house was crushing him with the weight of the world falling on his shoulders. It hit him then just how much he truly fucked up in life and it hurt. The one person who had always loved him and supported him even at his worst had found someone else. And she deserved so much better than Joel.  

Heading up the stairs, Joel kicked his boots off and headed over toward Elizabeth’s room. Stumbling into the room, Joel laid down on the floor beside her bed and stared up at the ceiling. It didn’t take long for Elizabeth to notice he was there with her lifting up and looking over the side of the bed.

“Dad? Are you okay?” Elizabeth reached for his hand, her fingers hooking with his realizing that Joel was crying. “Dad?”

Sliding over in her bed, she pat the bed beside her begging Joel to come lay with her. Getting up on the bed, Joel laid in beside her and Elizabeth held tightly to his hand. Crawling in beside him, she rest her head against the center of Joel’s chest and he cuddled her close.

“It’s going to be okay,” she assured Joel with a worried breath and Joel gave a small nod, nuzzling his nose in over her head.

He hoped so. But he wasn’t sure it would ever be okay again.

----

Tags: @chainsawsangel @fancypeacepersona @violent-darkness @negansbestie @elegantfanficluv

@sanctuaryforthelost @dead-of-niight @dilfsandmartinis @jennydehavilland

[leighsartworks216]

Self-Destruction

Zayne x gn!Reader

Based on my actual teacher and when I used to sh when I got angry. Please please don't read if you think this could trigger you <333

Warnings: hurt/comfort, swearing, anger, implied/referenced self-harm, self-destructive behavior/tendencies, no real ending

Word Count: 731

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It takes every ounce of self-restraint you have left in your body not to slam the door shut behind you. It doesn't matter, in any case, because the second the door is closed, everything bursts out of you.

You toss your bag to the floor with an angry groan. Tears burn your eyes. You can feel your lungs shaking with the effort it takes to try breathing normally. It feels awful. You wish this feeling would just go away, but it doesn't. It burrows deeper and deeper into your body, tearing through muscle and bone. You wish you could claw it out. The best you can do is bury your face in your hands and will away the rising need to break something.

"Love?"

Fuck, of course Zayne's home right now. You forgot he was taking a half-day, working at the hospital in the morning and finishing the rest of his work from home.

"What happened?" he asks with that gentle sort of urgency. "Where's your painting?"

Ugh, that fucking painting! "I threw it away," you grit out.

His footsteps are too loud as he approaches you, quicker than his usual steps. He grabs your hands, urging them away from your face. "Why?"

You feel hysterical as the emotions pour out of you. He interlaces your fingers together, holding your hands hostage even as you try to gesture with them.

"Because my teacher fucking sucks! I worked so, so hard on this one! You saw! You know! I just- I put it on the easel to present it and she fucking tore it apart, Zayne! Every little fucking thing! I tried to, you know, explain the fucking thought process behind it, just like everyone else, and you know what she did?! She ignored every single word I said! She said she didn't like it, she didn't understand it, it doesn't make sense, so she just shut down every single explanation I had! She wouldn't listen to anything! It's just-" Zayne tugs gently on you. You give in easily, dropping your head to rest on his shoulder. "It's not fair."

He squeezes your hands. They're cold, and you don't know if it's because of his Evol or if you're just running that hot from your outburst. "She only did that to yours?"

You nod against him, curling your nails toward his skin, before easing them flat against the scars on the back of his hands. He rubs his thumb against the meat of yours in small, soothing circles. "She actually critiqued everyone else's. But everything she said about mine? That wasn't fucking constructive criticism, it was just her own grievances. And I don't know if it's just me-"

"Whether she has something against you or not, that does not excuse the blatant unprofessionalism and disrespect she showed you," he interjects. "If you would like, I can help you file a complaint against her."

"Yes, please," you agree immediately.

He huffs a slight laugh. "Let's calm down first, alright?"

He lets go of your hands to hold your wrists. He guides them to sit on his chest, over his heart and lungs. Each breath he takes pushes against them, raising and falling in slow, even breaths. By your ear, you can hear those same slow breaths. You follow along.

Inhale for four seconds.

Hold for two.

Exhale for four.

The pattern continues for a couple minutes, until the anger simmers down. If you really needed to, Zayne would let you stay there for hours. It was better than the alternative.

When you got really angry like this, when it feels like breaking something is the only way to get it out of you, you'd turn it back on yourself. Destroying your art supplies may sound like an instant soother, but you're all too cognizant of how expensive and important it all is. But skin can heal.

Zayne, for obvious reasons, immediately worked to find solutions to help. Namely, holding your hands to keep them off of your arms or legs, and putting himself into position to take the pain. Not that you ever were able to dig your nails into him, even at your most desperate. The guilt of hurting him was too strong to even consider it. So, this way, no one got hurt.

"Better?"

(After this, he would help you file the report and retrieve your painting from the trash <333)

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko

[puppeat123]

Homicipher

Mr Scarletella x GN reader

Wrong locker!

Trigger warning: Homework, STUDYING crushing on Mr.crawling 😨‼️ MR DELULU, small amount of angst, starts one sided be trust it changes cause Mr delulu

Quick run down-

You transferred schools and made many friends among them was Mr crawling today you will confess to him! By leaving a confession letter in his locker . However you seem to have found yourself now being observed by a certain red haired someone.

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~>>>>𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹<<<<~~~~~~~~~~~

You recently transferred to a new international school, Cipher University. It has been wonderful so far.

You went to orientation week, and you found lots of cool people there! Some of them you kept in contact with throughout the whole school year; others, not so much. Amongst the many people that you spent time with was a tall guy; he is a tall, pale guy with beautiful long black hair, and he is a little blind, always misplacing his glasses on the floor or dropping them. He was so kind to everyone and helped people who were confused on their first day.

You fell for him so quickly; I mean, who wouldn't!

His nickname was Crawling because he was always on the floor looking for where he put his glasses. You hung out with him very often after school. He would study with you and buy something to eat and chat during the study session. More chatting than studying was happening, though.

Over time your feelings for him grew, so much so that you felt today was the day you would leave him a confession letter in his locker. You made sure to plan out everything so there was no way he would see you putting the letter into his locker.

You remember asking him his schedule a while ago so that both of you could hang out and study.

You felt nervous and excited all at the same time!

You are hoping he feels some sort of way about it, and hopefully he says something about it or a response to it. You poured out your heart to him in that letter!

————————————————————-

You walked into the school building at the main entrance, where everyone had their lockers; meanwhile, his class was on the opposite side of the building. This made it perfect timing to slip a letter in his locker. You waved bye to him as you saw him walking away to the other side and going up the stairs. Once you saw him gone, you quickly rummaged through your bag and found the neatly folded letter sealed with the usual heart-shaped seal. His locker was 01010; you remember watching him put his stuff there last year before break, so that should be his same locker. You quickly slide the envelope in the small opening of the locker. Hopefully he feels the same way about you too! You quickly turned and started walking towards your class. You passed a student who you almost bumped into on your way there. What was he doing out of class? All the classes start around the same time! Whatever, though, Ms. Blue would be upset at you not being in class 5 minutes before it started.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

He forgot his textbook for Mr. Hood's English in his locker. There were still 5 minutes before the class started, so Mr. Hood let him get his book really quickly since his class was 3 doors away from the locker area. He quickly opened his locker and saw a beautiful white one with a cute red heart seal in it.

He took the letter and his textbook before closing back his locker. He quickly hid the cool letter in his pocket before rushing back to class.

Today's lecture was over the topic of the book and a refresher over the syllabus and who has signed it and who hasn't.

While he goes over all that useless stuff, it is time to see what the letter in his locker says.

———————

Dear love

I remember the day we met. You stole my heart, and made it skip twice. You have been the highlight of my life. When I sleep, I dream of you, when I study, we study together, when your heart beats, mine beats with yours. We have been friends for some time now; not one day has gone by without me thinking of you. I think of you, and the biggest smile comes across my face, I feel warm all over and my heart still skips a beat for you whether we're on the phone or just being in the same room. Sweetheart, just looking into your eyes still makes me feel like the first day we met. I have the same dream we both want, and that's to fall in love with our bestfriend. I fell for you so long ago. Do you feel the same way about me?

Love always,

Yours sincerely your secret admirer.

——————-

Warmth crept slowly onto his deadly pale cheeks, almost turning the same shade of red as his hair.

He couldn't believe it. Who could it be? It only made sense that it was the other student he almost bumped into when getting his textbook.

There was no one else by the lockers. The note was still pretty cool to the touch when he took it from his locker. They ran into room F0100. The other student did look pretty cute. They looked pretty flustered with them almost bumping into him. They liked him so much that they wrote him a beautiful letter so cute!

But what were they like? He doesn't interact with many people outside of school; when he did, many didn't want to interact or kept it short. So this was news to him!

He must know more about them. If they knew him and liked him enough to confess, then he must learn about them as soon as possible to give a proper answer. He couldn't keep them waiting after all the effort and time they put into writing the letter and placing it into his locker. On top of that, they didn't even write their name in the letter; they must be so shy!

He will make sure to get your name!

After all, you really liked him, and he was more than willing to do anything it takes to help you out of your shell.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You waited patiently for Crawling to say something about the letter he found in his locker.

You decided to try and ask him or press a little about it.

"Hey, how were classes today?"

"It was okay! I found so much paper in my locker today!"

Is he going to talk about the letter? It was close to the Japanese equivalent of Valentine's Day for them. So could he have more admirers?? Why did he say he had so many papers in his locker?

"I got a new locker because I needed something closer to my classes, and man, that thing was not cleaned out!"

"Oh, you got a new locker?"

Panic slowly settled in you. If he changed lockers.

Whose locker did you slip your confession into?

Hopefully it was a random nobody. This was an international school after all, so who knows how someone might take it? Hopefully it wasn't anyone crazy or weird.

Right..?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>>>>𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹<<<<~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello!

Thank you so much for reading I hope yall enjoy. I’m working on the next part of this I want to make a mini series cause I can’t keep it together sometimes!

Next chapter 2:

[yanderes-galore]

Love your writing on Fear and Hunger! Can I ask for a scenario/short where the Kaiser (Legarde) finds Darling reincarnated in Termina? They died such a long time ago, surely he won't let them get away from him time.

Considering the soul system in F&H... This seems plausible, actually.

Rebirth

Yandere! Kaiser (Le'Garde) Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Violence, Murder, Blood, Delusional behavior, Intimate implications (nothing happens, just mentions it as you were flings), Stalking, Forced relationship.

Everyone has a soul that reflects who they are.

The Kaiser, once known as Le'Garde, has grown familiar with such occult things. Every person has a soul that allows them certain abilities. Some subjects even share the same soul type... possibly through blood...

Or even reincarnation.

The Kaiser, once all these contestants came for the festival, sensed a familiar presence he knew long ago. It was unnerving at first.... Such a presence brought back memories of a vulnerable time.

That presence... It reminds him of those dreaded dungeons. Those dungeons that made him reborn again into a new god.... He suffered in those dungeons...

But he didn't recall suffering alone.

No, when he was still a typical unenlightened mortal, he had companions in those dungeons. Most of them he considered pawns. However, there was one he deemed worthy of his attention.

You, a poor soul exploring the dungeons, had come to his aid. He originally thought you foolish... yet frustratingly appealing. You and him had grown close in those dungeons.

Le'Garde was normally never one for love. He had his eyes set on greater things. He didn't even recognize D'arce's feelings. Yet, with you... deep in those cold and bloody dungeons.

You managed to get him out of his armor more than once when you were alone.

To Le'Garde and most likely you, they were Sylvian flings. Just a way to find comfort in those dungeons while surviving. It wasn't about love...

That's... what he tells himself... yet back then he kept approaching you for more.

Did he like you more than he thought?

Before Le'Garde could sort out such feelings, his plan was set in motion. He was made to be a God, one way or another. Although... by the end of it...

He never saw you again.

As The Kaiser, he had not thought of such thoughts until now. It was only when he was reminded of your presence that he looked back on his feelings. He shouldn't be thinking of this...

You died long ago....

Yet, as though fate guided your soul, your soul somehow made it back here. The Kaiser was already wary of the contestants on that train. He had enemies hunting him down...

But he also saw someone similar to you... He could sense it was you.

This was your soul.

The soul of the one he felt was rightly his.

Naturally, The Kaiser felt drawn to you. It was though his own soul ached for you once again. He felt oddly... giddy at the idea of finding his love again.

It's amusing to him.... He thought he forgot this feeling. Yet the moment he feels your soul close to his he's desperate. You have so much power over a god such as him...

Even if you no longer know him.

Ah, yes, a problematic thought. The idea of you nor remembering echoes in his mind. However... surely once you feel his presence...

You'll remember.

In this place and new age... in this festival... you didn't stand a chance alone. The Kaiser knew this... but just like in those dungeons, you put together a team of contestants to help you. Although... by the time you feel confident enough to challenge Rher or escape this place...

The Kaiser appears before you... sword drawn with a snake slithering around his neck...

Before you knew it, you're overpowered, not equipped enough to challenge him.

The stench of blood is oddly familiar, even if you haven't encountered anything like it from what you remember. The sight of this... being in front of you sends chills down your spine. Yet you cannot tell why.

You feel nauseous when The Kaiser slowly but surely slaughters those you called friends. Even that feels familiar... along with the blood on your clothes. You truly never stood a chance...

Why does this all feel—

"Do you remember me?" The Kaiser asks, towering over you. He doesn't seem to care much that you're laying in the blood of your friends. Their corpses are grotesque... just like the rest of this hell.

"Don't you feel it too? Our souls that were once bound together. I don't think I could forget you if I tried...."The Kaiser murmurs, as if reminiscing on a distant memory.

He sounds nostalgic... yet you just sob.

"Please— Please, I'm sorry! Spare me...." You plead, sensing the end was near for you. Except...

The Kaiser merely chuckles, as if what you said was cute.

"Spare you? Of course I'm sparing you, my consort." The Kaiser grins, eyes gleaming under his yellow hood. "After all... Why would I kill you when I've just found you again?"

"I don't know you... what are you trying to do?" You try to get answers, but The Kaiser merely clicks his tongue.

"Oh, love, you'll remember soon enough. You'll remember the dungeons, you'll remember the blood... the danger... the passion... but most importantly..." The Kaiser coos, stalking closer before grabbing your bloody hand and yanking you to your feet.

"You're going to remember me. You'll soon remember me as your love and you'll never abandon me. You'll be my consort, as you were always meant to be." The Kaiser hums, not minding your fearful yet desperate attempts to pull away.

"Consort? No— Let go—!" You struggle, yet The Kaiser merely drags you close to him. His touch and skin feels oddly cold...

The thought of following him scares you on a primal level.

"No, my consort. We were always meant to be together in all lifetimes." The Kaiser growls, pulling you close to his side. "I need you to follow me, love... we have a lot to catch up on. You may be scared... but don't worry..."

The Kaiser chuckles again, squeezing your side as you tremble and walk.

"I'll make you remember what we were and who you belong to... and I'll never let you go again."

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter X: The Destruction of Your Innocence

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev | diaries coming VERY soon

songs for this chapter: an ode by mat kerekes, the price of growing up by watsky

summary: an evening of fun with the party, and for once nothing feels too heavy... until it does.

chapter tags: none! Just a good wholesome dose of friendship on all counts… the calm before the storm, if you will.  | fic tags: angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI each chapter will have its own content/trigger warnings

a/n: I would consider this the end of Act I.... meaning.... well. I'm sure you can figure that out. Happy new year everyone! 🎉

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog to support the author!

taglist @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality @munsonburn3r | comment/message me to be added!

--

“Good morning!” Robin answers the door to her apartment with far too much pep for eight am. Your ears are still ringing from last night, and you wince at her volume. “Oh, sorry. Forgot you’re so not a morning person. Come in!” She whispers the last part, and you chuckle lightly as you cross the threshold, only for your smile to fall from your lips. Eddie is splayed on the couch, a black coffee in his hand as Steve talks at him about how important reading the instructions is. 

“Hi, Bee!” Steve greets you from the kitchen, and Eddie offers a brief wave.

“Mornin’. Sorry, I didn't know it was a party, I would’ve dressed nicer.” You’re suddenly embarrassed by your choice of outfit: A pair of bike shorts and a massive t-shirt draped over your body like a nightgown.

“Oh, shush, you look great. Especially for what we’re doing today.” Robin, clad in overalls, walks by you and into the living room, where differently sized planks of wood are spread out on the carpet, a pile of screws in a bag next to them, and the instructions booklet flattened to the first page. 

“What exactly are we doing?” Eddie asks, sitting up. “I was just told I was needed, I was never told why.” He looks at you, as if asking for help. You shrug.

“We’re putting this thing together,” Robin toes the mess of boards. “Need all hands on deck, this ain’t no IKEA furniture.” 

“Good thing, IKEA’s shit would fall apart in a week.” You kneel in front of the pieces, examining them closely. “Shouldn’t be too difficult, looks like everything we need came with it.”

“Okay, great! Steve, put on some jams. Bee, come with me for a second.” Robin offers her hand, and you stand up to follow her into her bedroom.

“What’s up?”

“Are you, like, good?”

“What?” The question confuses you.

“Like, with Eddie here. I know we didn’t tell you, it wasn’t really planned, Steve just texted him for extra help and I didn’t wanna argue because I don’t wanna be the one to have to help him move the thing when we inevitably have to.”

“Rob, it’s cool. I’m over the initial shock of Eddie being here every time I see you guys. I  know it’s been awhile, but this was a normal occurrence once.”

“Yeah, I know, it just hasn’t been for a really long time. Wanna make sure you’re okay, that’s all.”

You kiss her cheek, smiling warmly. “It’s okay, Bob. Thank you.”

With that, she leads you back into the room, where Steve and Eddie stop speaking abruptly, as if they’d been conspiring something you aren’t allowed to know.

“Okay!” Steve claps his hands together, breaking the tension. “Let’s do it, we’re losing daylight.”

–

“Okay, this goes here–” “No, Rob, that goes there, this goes here–” “Bee, hand me the screwdriver–” “Would you move, Ed, you’re in my light–” The four of you talk over each other for hours, screwing and hammering pieces into place, groaning when you realize something is upside down. 

“Wait, wait, shut up!” Robin eventually exclaims before standing up to admire the fruit of your labor. “We fuckin’ did it!” In front of you sits a complete, sturdy entertainment center, every piece where it belongs. You feel a burst of pride as you stand up next to your friends, resting your hands on your hips to take in the sight before you. 

“Look at us! And in a miraculous turn of events, Bee and Eddie didn’t maim each other to death!” Steve adds, elbowing Eddie in the ribs and earning himself a shove. “You know, this might be cause for a gathering.” Eddie announces, earning groans from you, Steve, and Robin. To Eddie, a gathering didn’t mean the usual party with beer and weed, loud music and the likelihood of drama. For that, you were grateful. However, it did mean a very loud, passionate game of Dungeons & Dragons with four teenage boys. The cleanup is comparable, and you don’t count on Eddie helping out. 

“Please, Rob? I promise, we’ll be out by ten. There’s just barely any room at my place, and you guys always have the good snacks.” You cock an eyebrow at Eddie, but he’s too busy pouting at Robin to notice. 

“Ugh, fine! Out by ten, no exceptions.” He opens his mouth to thank her, but Robin quickly adds, “And only if Bee will come.” She crosses her arms over her chest triumphantly, like she’s found the secret way out of the deal.  

“What? Why is this suddenly on me?” You look from her to Eddie, whose eyes are wide with his friend’s betrayal. 

“Because I know you hated those things.” She grins. You remember, consistently left out of the games in high school because you were friends with a couple cheerleaders. Instead, being forced to watch from the corner, mumbling under your breath every time one of them did something stupid, and throwing popcorn into Eddie’s hair. “Y’know what, I might actually join you. If they let me play.” You glare up at Eddie, like you’ve passed the grenade. To make you show up, he has to let you play. If he doesn’t let you play, the gathering is off. The snake eats its own tail. 

But he shrugs. “Okay, yeah.” 

You and Robin share a look of exaggerated surprise, gasping in unison like he’d dropped to one knee. “What happened to the golden rule? No Darksiders!”

Eddie throws his head back with laughter, chest heaving as he tries to compose himself. “Guys, I’ve matured a little in the past few years, would you give me some credit?”

It shifts something in your chest, hearing him say it. You forget sometimes that Steve and Robin had also been together without Eddie for a while. When he’d finally graduated, Eddie skipped town without a word to any of his friends. You’d even gotten an influx of calls and texts, friends of Eddie’s you’d only met in passing asking you if he was out in New York with you, having no idea you already hadn’t spoken in two years. 

“Okay,” You resign, remembering your brother’s plea from last night for you to be nicer to him. “Then a gathering we shall have.”

—

The apartment quickly becomes a playground, a mass of what you can’t exactly call children flooding through the front door, immediately taking up any available surface. The boys: Lucas, Will, Mike, and Dustin, are loud and excited, spreading out their game pieces on the kitchen table with intention. The girls, El and Max, make their way to the pantry for snacks and soda, opening every cabinet until they find what they’re looking for. You brace the tornado, still as possible until everyone is settled. 

“So,” Max sits on the empty cushion beside you, crossing her legs to rest a bowl of popcorn in her lap. “Long time, no see!” You’d always been closest to Max, even closer than you’d gotten to Dustin just by being friends with Steve and, at the time, Eddie. Max, though, seemed drawn to you specifically. Your senior year, when she was in seventh grade, she’d started wearing her hair like yours, asking you where you bought your clothes, what kind of music you liked. It was cute, really. You’d always wanted a little sister, and Max was probably the coolest thing you could have imagined.

“Hey, Maxy.” You nudge her with your shoulder. “Look at you, all grown up.” She’s flourished since the last time you saw her, which would have to have been right before you’d left for New York. “Sorry I didn’t come visit more.” 

She shrugs. “No biggie, I get it. Although, it is weird to see you two in the same room again.” You know she’s referring to Eddie, but she sends a less than subtle glance in his direction, and you follow it to find him conducting yet another Hellfire pre-campaign meeting. You indulge in watching the show for a minute, the way Eddie leans forward in his chair at the head of the table, face expressive as he alludes to the battles he’s written for his little goblins and you should probably be paying attention to what he’s saying. You hear Max giggling beside you. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“Well, despite all this time, you haven’t changed at all.”

“What are you talking about?” You raise an eyebrow at her.

“You still look at Eddie like a lovesick dog.” She rolls her eyes, and you dart yours to the floor. “Hey, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I kind of always knew you two wouldn’t be apart forever.” 

“Okay, missy, you’re gettin’ a little too big for your britches. Eddie and I are barely friends. Acquaintances by circumstance.” Even to yourself, you sound unconvincing. 

“Mhm, sure.” She teases as you turn back to watch the theatrics of the Dungeon Master, despite yourself. 

“Take a pic, Bee, it’ll last longer!” You feel your cheeks burning as Dustin cackles, followed by the groans of the gaggle of boys surrounding him. You stare straight ahead, doing your best to avoid the way Eddie’s eyes are penetrating the side of your face. 

“Dustin, shut the hell up. Upsetting Bee is almost worse than upsetting Eddie.” Mike elbows his friend in the ribs.

“It’s true, dude, you’re playing with fire.” Lucas adds, tone heeding a warning. You hear a thump under the table, followed quickly by Dustin’s cry of “Ow, you bitch!” Followed by a 20 sided die flying at Eddie’s head. Luckily, his fluffy curls soften the blow, Eddie barely even flinching. 

“Oh, you’re in for it now, Henderson.” Eddie practically growls at the boy, eyes darkening with the mischief the rest of them have grown familiar with.

–

“Well, well, well.” Eddie leans back in his chair, folding his hands across his chest with an aura of smugness. “Looks like you’re all out of options.” Your character is mostly unscathed, but you can’t say the same for your campaign party. All of the kids’ characters are on their last legs, Dustin’s even literally, having lost his left lower limb to a corrupted mage about twenty minutes into the game. “Any last words?”

You can tell Dustin regrets his joke from earlier, face trembling with anxiety so palpable you’d think he’d seen this type of horror in real life. “I choose to surrender.” The party only mumble in agreement 

“Roll to see if your surrender is accepted.” Eddie leans in, the grin on his face widening.

Dustin rolls a three. “Shit.”

Eddie throws his head back, a devilish cackle releasing into the air of the apartment. “Oh you poor, poor thing. Looks like your begs for mercy go unheard.” Eddie rolls the die himself, landing on eight. “Hm, seems like you’re getting off a little easy. You may leave unscathed.” Dustin squints his eyes at the older man, waiting for the catch. “All you must do is leave your strongest soldier as collateral.” He leans his elbow on the table, and Dustin follows his gaze to where you sit across from him, too distracted by the look on Eddie’s face to pay attention to what he’s saying. What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Bee?” Will’s voice snaps you back to reality. “What do you think?”

“What? Oh,” You look from Eddie, with that stupid smirk on his face, back to your teammates. “You want to sacrifice me?”

“Well, we don’t want to. Clearly you’re the reason we’re still alive here.” Dustin grumbles, fiddling with a handful of dice. “The second we give her to you, Ed, you’re gonna destroy us!”

Eddie only shrugs, giving none of his diabolical plan away to his opponents. “Only one way to find out.”

Dustin looks at you, eyebrow raised. “What do you think, Bee?”

You try to focus on the game. If you surrender, you become what Eddie likes to describe as a henchman. Your moves from here on in are only to benefit him. You’d be turning on your team, but they’d be free to walk away. If you don’t surrender, who knows what the sick and twisted Dungeon Master has up his sleeve for them?

“I guess… I will bravely sacrifice myself for your freedom.” You decide, gracefully gesturing to the younger boys. “I would be honored to die for the good of the campaign.” 

The boys look at each other, ultimately deciding to accept your sacrifice. Eddie, though, throws his head back with his in character evil laughter, swiping your game piece from the board. “And so it shall be! The mage has been sacrificed, and captured by the darkness to distract from the escape of the rest of the party.” He looks from the boys back to you, the smile on his face a little softer. “An honorable risk, indeed.”

–

As promised, the younglings are kicked out promptly at ten, and Eddie is nice enough to bring them all home.

“Bye, guys!” Steve gives a wave before closing and locking the door. “I am fucking exhausted.”

“Yeah, it’s really tiring work sitting on your ass eating pizza.” You snort, clearing the paper plates from the table.

“Hey, you’re one to talk. You got to play a game all night while Eddie made googly eyes at you.” 

His comment stops you in your tracks. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, please, like you have no idea!” He looks at you, face contorting from amused to bewildered. “Oh, you really have no idea.”

Robin snorts behind him. “Neither of them have a clue, Stevie.”

“Can someone please explain to me what the hell you’re talking about?” You’re exhausted, and you can’t keep up with your friends’ cryptic bullshit. 

“C’mere.” Robin walks around to sit on the couch, patting the cushion next to her.

“Rob, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Relax, Steve. Bee’s gone through enough, the least we can do is tell her what we know.” You plop down beside your friend, and Steve joins you on the other side. “Bee, what do you know about Eddie coming back to Hawkins?”

You squint at Robin. “As much as you do, I thought! He came back when Chris got released. I still don’t even know where he went after he graduated. Before then, it had been years since we’d spent any time together.” 

Robin nods thoughtfully, like she’s considering your words. “Well, think about it. Why would he choose now to come back? Why would he put the effort in to hang out with us, with you?”

You shake your head, growing more frustrated by the second. “You know I don’t have the answers to any of that. All I know is that Chris told Eddie to rat on him, to save his own ass from being tormented by Hawkins PD. And I only learned that, like, yesterday.” 

Steve chimes in. “Well, at least he finally told you some of the truth.” 

“What?” You turn to face him, your voice straining. “What more is there?”

“Bee,” Robin rests a hand on your shoulder. “He broke up with Macy, he’s hanging out with us every damn day. Don’t pretend you haven’t figured out Eddie’s obsessed with you.”

This shit again. You groan, throwing your head back into the couch cushions. “This is bullshit. You’re making shit up.”

“Okay, if that’s your theory, why the hell would we do that?” Steve seems offended by the accusation.

“How should I know? You guys love to meddle, why would I be exempt from your torment?” 

“It’s hopeless, Rob. We’re gonna have to show her.” 

She shrugs. “Guess so.” She plucks her phone from the coffee table and begins scrolling. “Ah! Here it is.” She turns her phone to face you. Displayed is a picture from the Chappell show, the four of you posing in front of the stage with big, excited smiles on your faces. Well, you, Steve, and Robin are smiling. Eddie isn’t even looking at the camera, but at you. His arm is wrapped tightly around your shoulder, and he’s smiling, eyes focused on the side of your face. Robin hadn’t posted this picture, and you can now understand why. The best way to describe the look on Eddie’s face is lovesick. You feel a lurch in your throat, still examining the photo, the way you hadn’t even noticed him. 

“What am I supposed to take from this?” You try to play it off, despite the impossibility of denying what you’re looking at. “This doesn’t change anything.”

“Please, Bee. Don’t tell me you can’t feel it. You know there’s something there.” Robin is practically pleading with you. “I know he has a lot of making it up to you to do, but, what if you gave him the chance? I’m not saying you have to fall in love with him or anything,”

“Though, that would be kind of awesome!” Steve interjects.

“But, I dunno, maybe you guys could be friends again. Maybe things could start healing themselves.”

“Would it get you two off my back?” You half joke, feeling your palms sweating under the pressure. They nod eagerly. “Okay, fine. I’ll try my best to give him a chance. That doesn’t mean I believe a word of what you’re telling me, though.”

Robin and Steve high five over your head. “We’ll take it!” Robin exclaims, jumping from her seat. “And, if he ends up being a total douche bag, you have all the right to say you told us so.” She holds out her pinky to you, and you grab it with your own, sealing the deal.

[inhurtandincomfort]

What are your favorite ideas for aftermath of "noncon" scenarios? As in trauma recovery or lack thereof.

Thank you for the ask! Sorry I'm late, I meant to reply yesterday and wrote out my response and everything, but forgot to actually send it lmaooo

Scenarios for trauma and recovery of noncon under cut, aka me yapping

First off I really love whumpees who are... messy, in their recovery. They're so angry at themselves, at everyone around them, but they refuse to tell anyone why. They're too guilty, too ashamed to even confront the truth of what happened to them. They wind up pushing everyone away, until one day, somehow, one character finds out and it all just makes sense. I adore friends finding out of course, but I also love when enemy or rival finds out. They thought Whumpee was just a being a dick for the sake of it - bonus points if rival has noncon related trauma too.

-Adding on to that, whumpees who engage in risky behaviour in an attempt to gain their life back. I'm talking going home with strangers, getting drunk and letting themselves be taken advantage of, even if they know they've been drugged. Never saying no, to anything, even non-intimate things because they're so used to it being ignored. Just. Dangerous self-destructive behaviours just to gain some semblance of control.

-Perhaps a scenario for the first one, whumpee who never speaks a word to anyone of what happened - Whumper was someone highly respected. Team Leader, or Medic, or Hero, even just a Friend, someone beloved so whumpee things no one will believe them. They keep quiet with all this angst and rage building inside them. At a party -maybe celebrating Whumpers promotion or heroic deed- Whumpee drinks a little too much. They get into a small argument with whumper that escalates until it all comes out in one tearful confession. And personally I'm a fan of whumpee being believed immediately after this, every face in the room a mixture of concern, shock, anger and horror

-I see a lot about hypersexual whumpees after trauma and that's very good. But I really like whumpees who completely clam up at the prospect of any touch or intimacy, even non-sexual. It leaves room for some wonderful moments when the slightest innocent touch, brushing against them in the hallway - or needing to touch them to treat their injures - leads to a panic attack

-In fact, I love whumpees who's trauma response makes them act the opposite to how they normally would, and the confusion of friends/family/team that follows

-Whumpers who become so loving and tender afterwards, cleaning whumpee up and offering soothing words no matter how violent they were moments before. Even kindness can become a trigger

-When whumpee was captured with the team and abused - I'm not a fan of forced to watch in this regard, but I love when they take whumpee to another room but the team just knows. And if Whumpee did it in exchange for necessary supplies - one or more of them are sick or injured, and desperately need water and medicine- well then there's just a whole bunch of trauma and guilt for everyone involved! It will either make them grow closer as they work through it together... or drive them apart because it's all too much.

-I LOVE when whumpee is able to enjoy intimacy again. Whether it's a new relationship after the event, or an old relationship where intimacy had to be put on hold - there's little I love more than a Partner who really doesn't care how long it takes, even if it never happens, just having Whumpee safe is all they want; but it bothers Whumpee. They refuse to let whumper steal this from them, too. The moment they finally do it without crying, without being triggered, without having to stop and apologies - I think it's so sweet and a real marker of whumpees progress.

-I'm not just talking about sex, I mean intimacy in general. I really love Caretaker bathing a whumpee who's too injured or weak to do it themselves, gentle touches, tenderly washing their hair and it's so innocent yet such a private, intimate moment

-But also the lead-up to that moment too. It ends in a success, but there will be failures along the way. When partner is so careful, so perceptive, and when whumpee is triggered they keep crying and apologising and feeling guilty they can't share this with the one they love anymore, but partner keeps assuring them that it's okay, they can take as long as they need, that there's nothing wrong with them for being upset.

-There is also something to be said for a bad partner who does make whumpee feel guilty.

-After the event, Whumpee changed part of themselves that Whumper loved. Whumper loved their long hair? Cut it short. They liked the makeup they wore? Whumpee stopped wearing it altogether. Friends and team knew how much Whumpee loved doing those things, but it's too painful now. It's such a cathartic moment the first time Whumpee wears their hair long again, or comes down with a full face of makeup - and looking genuinely happy about it.

-I don't write it often, but I love when it goes to court, and whumpee is brave enough to look Whumper dead in the eye who tries to avoid their gaze. It's been a long fight, Whumpee often wondered if it was worth it, but when that guilty verdict hits they break down crying in relief. All that pain, reliving their trauma, it was finally all worth it.

[intheorangebedroom]

Tonight you belong to me, chapter 1

Summary: He comes to you every Friday, in a shady motel on the outskirts of town. 

Guilt is a wild trip, but so is desire. How the hell did you end up in this divvy motel? And now, what's next?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader (OFC)

Rating: Explicit 🔞

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday, orange besties 🧡 PLEASE, see series masterlist for extensive trigger warnings. Now I'm off to disappear for another month, heehee. To anyone who celebrates anything, happy whatever you celebrate. Ily 🧡

@frannyzooey And to you, Kelli… Thank you 🧡 Thank for your help on this chapter, without you it wouldn’t exist. Arguably, without you I wouldn’t exist (my gothic ass) and without you I would certainly not be writing at all. You’re the kindest, most generous, most beautiful person I’ve ever met, you shine so brightly and I love you more than all the Frankies from all the universes put together 🧡✨

Word count: 6.5k

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Chapter 1: Dirt

Guilt, you’re about to find out, is an interesting feeling. 

A viscous, gluey business that sticks to your skin and clings to your frame. It’s a prickling tickle under your armpits, a rigidity in your legs. It’s a tightness in your shoulders, and it pulls on your face. It has a density, and it’s tangible, not only do you feel it, you see it in every mirror, every reflective surface. 

A pervasive, shape-shifting torment that unfurls gradually, and comes in many colorful shades, when you begin to take in the gravity and the ramifications of your actions. 

The first wave is darkened by fear, black as petrol, trickling down your insides when he says his name. 

Frankie.

Like an invitation, an opening. Gaping, abysmal, pulling you in and you remain silent, struggling on the edge of it, grasping for balance. Drawn in, but too stunned to let go and dive in yet.

It’s a violent crimson, next, shame creeping over you when you walk back inside the bar to retrieve your purse. 

Facing Mark is difficult, but talking to him is beyond your strength. You gesture toward the handbag waiting for you on the other side of the counter. He hands it to you in appraising silence, judgmental, surely, and you smile, or you wince, you can’t even tell. With shaky hands, you fumble inside it for your wallet, his green gaze strained on your face. 

You know that your entire appearance gives away the narrative of what just took place in the back lot of his establishment. Your face is flushed, your lips swollen, your hair undone. Your clothes are rumpled and in his eyes, you will from now on and forever be this woman. 

After what feels like several minutes, he takes pity on you, and reiterates his offer. You’re good, he says. Sweetheart. The first pint’s on him. 

You don’t stay long enough for a second drink, however. 

Back outside into the muggy night, you crumble onto the passenger seat of your car. The polyester lining of your skirt clings to the bare skin at the back of your thighs, damp with sweat and what is left of your inconsequential desire, and you feel appallingly filthy, bone-deep disgusting. 

Guilt washes over you in blue waves of regret, welling under your eyelids when you notice that the red truck is gone. And with it, the gaping, abysmal possibilities of another you, reinvented with him. 

The shaking starts as you’re driving, trembling hands gripping the steering wheel. A brutal, chilling comedown, guilt experienced in bright and blinding yellow at the belated realization of your betrayal. 

How easily, how rapidly you forgot, trapped under Frankie’s gaze, coming undone between Frankie’s hands, that your life isn’t truly yours. That it has never been. You’re not on your own, no matter how much you long to be. You have never been afforded the privilege of independence, nor do you possess the necessary strength to break free from your family. 

And who has Frankie betrayed? What faceless, nameless woman has he gone back to? Remorse blends in with envy and resentment, painting green ring-shaped stains in your peripheral vision as you get out of your car and into the lobby of your building. 

Eyes to the floor, you step into the elevator, this oversized coffin lined with mirrors reflecting your image with a silent scoff. There’s dust from the gravel on your leather pumps. 

Inside your apartment, the clickety-click of your heels on the tiled floor bounces off the walls of your skull. You hate that sound, eminently cold and giving away your presence. 

The living-room television is on, probably set to a news channel, most likely broadcasting a financial show in which white men over 50 listen to the sound of their own voice and debate about obscure economical regulations you’re supposed to care about. 

Adrian’s already here. Uncharacteristically early. Friday evenings usually mean late night poker or whatever his own excuse is to get away from your cribless home.

Hoping to go unnoticed so as to avoid him, you take off your shoes, but it’s too late. He calls out your name from the kitchen, his intonation surprised but cheerful. 

Head hanging low, heartbeat picking up, you make a silent dash for the upstairs bathroom, remorse so pungent you fear no shower can ever wash it off your skin.  

Under the scolding high-pressure stream, you scrub your body raw with a soapless loofah, but there is no scrubbing away the feeling of those hands over your skin. 

Eyes drifting closed, you lean your forehead against the anthracite marble of your Italian shower, and let your chest heave around a suppressed sob. 

Guilt, shame, and remorse are powerless to outweigh your want, undeterred, unabated, unquenched. 

Back in the parking lot, it had been a moment before you were able to push away from the side of the truck and stand upright. He stood there, silent and immobile in front of you. Waiting, as if to shield you from the street and the rest of the world. Silence hanging charged and heavy between you, as you wouldn’t offer your name in return. 

When you started moving toward the bar’s entrance, he stepped aside, and that’s when your body moved of its own volition. You took his hand in yours, palm against palm, trembling fingers wrapped around his knuckles.

“Can I see you again?” you asked, pleaded, begged. You didn’t recognize your voice.

He swallowed hard, shook his head at you for the third time, and squeezed your hand in his bigger one. 

“I don’t think so. You know that’s not a good idea,” he said. 

—

Grief settles like dust over the first weeks of September. 

You are surprised, almost shocked, to observe how little your life has changed. You get up in the morning, you shower and get dressed, drink coffee, go to work. You attend meetings about maritime trade regulation, sitting at your father’s side, go over endless spreadsheets detailing import-export profit and loss, you pretend to understand them, and you pretend to care, like a pretty human puppet. 

You come home at night, skip dinner when you can. You lie in bed next to Adrian. You seek out warmth where there is none. You perform sex without satisfaction. 

There has been no question asked. No suspicion, no doubt cast. 

You wear the same clothes, drive along the same roads, walk around the same hallways. 

And no one seems to notice that you are different. That you experienced imperious want and incandescent pleasure. That you carry a secret. Nestled, dormant and quiet, between your lungs, like a wild and unknown creature. 

Whatever part of him you welcomed inside you transformed the hollowed spaces of your existence. It redefined the void, creating a place of your own where to curate your new desires. 

His lips on your lips, your body molded into his, and pressed against your hips, an unfulfilled promise for more. 

In the palm of your hand, the ghost sensation of Frankie’s hold, now forever gone and lost, and your highlighted loneliness feels like a barless prison. On your own, always, again, to divert the old familiar pain of being you.

Weeks go by. The guilt recedes, and sadness takes its place, like clockwork, like physics. Like a new sort of weight coating your limbs. A nostalgic longing without any object. 

In the idle moments of your day, when you’re stuck in traffic, in a meeting, or in a conversation, your mind wanders back to him. The solid slope of his shoulders. The strong span of his back. Muscles bunching up under your grip. His scent, his curls, his taste. An organic trace seared into your being. 

His rebuttal, after he’d given you so much, felt less like a rejection than like a refusal to heed a deeply rooted instinct. 

His stare was no longer hard and cold. It carried only sorrow and loss. 

Does he think of you like you think of him? Does he miss the contact of your skin, or the abandon of your kiss? 

Did he walk away from your embrace with something to keep, like you did? 

Day after day, summer fades into fall, the change hardly perceptible through the consistently sweltering weather. 

Day after day, focusing becomes tricky, finding sleep more and more difficult and your train of thought turns downright maniacal. 

Ava’s calls go straight to voicemail.

More often than not, you start drinking as soon as you come home to fence off the tears of exhaustion, hoping Adrian won’t notice. Another line you had promised yourself never to cross, and under the combined effects of the alcohol and the antidepressants, you feel drowsy and dizzy, increasingly disconnected from your reality. A nagging sting settles on the left side of your lower abdomen. But you don’t mind the pain as much as you mind turning into your mother.

Some days, you think you’d like nothing more than to give way, allow yourself to drown into the proven refuge of self-abuse. Whenever you indulge the thought, soothing images spring to mind, oil on canvas, deep green, tender brown. Ophelia, crowned with wild flowers and rings of violets, sleeping peacefully in a shallow stream. 

When you finally return to the Hole in the Wall, it’s only with the hope of hindering your impending tailspin.

In the parking, after turning off the ignition, you sit in your car for the whole of five minutes, staring numbly at the dark lot where the red truck had been parked.

Mark’s hesitant greeting puzzles you; by now you have lost most of your ability to read people’s reactions. 

You walk to the counter and choose to sit on one of the high stools. Somewhere deep down, you enjoy his distance; you relish the sadistic pleasure of reliving the humiliation you felt standing before him, freshly fucked dumb on a total stranger’s fingers. 

Besides, you’ll take the attention, however uncomfortable it may be.

“Long time no see,” Mark says, and you produce a poorly executed smile. 

“I don’t know… two weeks? I’ve been busy,” you add as a way of apologizing.

“It’s been a month,” he replies curtly.

You try a brown ale, this time, rich and bitter. He busies himself behind the counter, cleaning and wiping, while you drain your glass in silence. You haven’t eaten all day, and you’re drinking too fast. Nausea laps against your diaphragm. It’s the last missing scene from this scenario: you, throwing up in the toilet of his bar. 

You’re considering leaving when he speaks again. 

“Trucker hat dude came by.”

Your head shots up and you glare at him, eyes widening under your pinched brow, a new wave of sickness nudging further up. He gauges your face, twirling a towel inside a pint glass, waiting for your answer, but when you give him none, he goes on.  

“Did he…” he starts, and his eyes slowly go back and forth between yours, “he didn’t hurt you or anything? Cause if he did, if you wanna press charges, I can—“

“No,” you cut him off, “god no, I’m fine. I’m perfectly ok,” you add unnecessarily when his gaze narrows. 

He pauses for a moment, like he’s the only one who can judge if you are, indeed, perfectly ok, before he faces away from you to put back the clean glasses on the lower shelves behind him.  

When he’s done, he turns back around, props his hands low on his hips, and for the first time since you’ve entered the place, he stands perfectly still. 

“He’s been asking about you.”

Between your lungs, the creature begins to stir. 

“He came back,” you say, surprisingly matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Asked if you come here every Friday.”

Piece by piece, your mind starts swiveling, sluggish and blunt after being successfully dulled out by the past couple of weeks of excessive drinking. You picture his tall figure standing in the small bar, perhaps he sat on the stool you’re sitting on now? Did he lift his cap to comb his hair with his fingers before he spoke?

Mark is talking again, and it’s a conscious effort to bring your attention back to his words.

“Asked if you always come on your own. If I know your name.”

“I never told you my name,” you panic, “what did you tell him?”

“I see your name every week on your AmEx Gold, sweetheart, but I kindly told him to go fuck himself,” he scoffs.

His sardonic tone snaps you out of your drifting daydreaming. Your face immediately hardens. You sit up straight, drawing further away from him and he seems to change his mind. He’s softer when he speaks next. 

“Look, I don’t know what’s the lowdown between you two, you understand? And anyway, I’m not in the habit of discussing my regulars with just about anyone. That kinda goes against the job’s ethics, you know what I mean?”

You shrug away the rational, albeit patronizing explanation with a huff of annoyance. You feel more alert than you have in weeks.  

“When was that?” you ask.

“Last week. Thursday, I think.”

“Shit.” 

Mark lets out a heavy sigh, resembling that of an exhausted father, and he opens the cash register. 

“He left a note for you.”

—

An address. Written in all caps, black ink on a white piece of paper torn from a lined notebook. No phone number, not date, no time… and no name. Just the address. Under the feeble cabin light of your car, the paper looks old, like it’s been carried around tucked inside a wallet for years, and time has turned it yellow. 

The coordinates on the dashboard GPS are identical to the ones on the paper. They were identical back in the parking, at the bar, when you typed them in; they were identical at every single red light you stopped at and checked. And they’re still identical now, glowing in blue letters, cold and synthetic, above the message You have reached your destination.

You raise your head again and stare at the building in front of you. 

It’s a motel. One floor, L shaped, slightly sloping roof. With wrought iron details, a porch hanging low and square wooden pillars demarcating each room, nine of them in total. On the right, underneath a bare bulb, a large ice machine gleams like a beacon for lost time-travelers, next to a pay phone with a cut-off cord and a missing receiver. On the rear end of the building, to the left, above what looks like the reception, a 4 feet tall sign spells MOTEL in red neon letters. 

At its height, the place probably looked nice. But that was a rough 55, 60 years ago, you estimate. Now it’s nearly derelict, with visible cracks streaking the yellowing walls, several broken drainpipes, and a missing number on the door of room 7. 

If you cared about these kinds of things, you’d figure that the diversion of the main road further south is responsible for the motel’s decaying state. 

Your attention is elsewhere, as usual. The parking lot is deserted, save for three vehicles. The red truck is here, parked a couple of places away to your right. Engine off. Empty. 

The drive here from the Hall in the Wall was nearly an hour long. The car cruised along poorly lit, narrow two-lane roads, lined with luxuriant vegetation, dense and confining in the pitch darkness of the suburban night. You’ve lived in Tampa your entire life and have never set a foot in this part of the Bay Area. Technically, you’re not even in Tampa anymore. 

He’s inside one of these rooms, somewhere. Waiting for you, and that thought alone makes your breathing difficult and your hands clammy.

What now? What’s next? Are you supposed to walk up to the reception and ask about him?  A tall man wearing a trucker hat? Frankie?

And what will happen, once you’ve found him?

This is ridiculous. Sordid. It’s gone too far, whatever that is. A motel outside of town. The worst possible cliché. The most degrading place. 

Between your lungs, the creature is clawing at your chest. 

You shift nervously on the creaking leather seat, exhaling long and shaky, no longer repressing the memory of his sturdy fingers curling inside your warmth, of his tongue swirling inside your mouth. The instant intimacy of your furtive encounter, that turning point, when he briefly relinquished his control. 

A chorus of voices rumbles like tumbling boulders inside your head, a cacophony of rules and guidelines, tacit and unspoken, ingrained and internalized. But with every passing minute staring at the bright motel sign, your resolve grows surer. 

The yellow curtains ripple behind the rectangular window of room number 2 and you quickly pull the key out of the ignition. Grabbing your phone from the dashboard, you stuff it inside your purse, which you slide under the driver's seat. 

Eyes locked on the curtains, you make a fast-paced beeline to the door. Around you, the night is bustling with the sounds and noises of the invisible wildlife. Revealing nothing, containing so much. 

With a quick rattle of your heels, you step under the porch, hand extended and ready to knock on the door when it opens for you. 

Oh he’s broad, so much broader than you even remembered, blocking the entire doorway with his frame, blue jeans, black shirt, and this goddamn hat that’s already haunting your dreams and your nightmares. 

Looking down on you, irate, defiant, daring you to push him aside and enter. Behind him, the room is plunged in darkness. Above you, the porch lights cast a warm hue on his face, that fails to soften his expression. The crease between his brow is deeper than your fears. 

You take a step closer, on instinct, but he moves to the side as if to avoid any contact with you and you enter the dark bedroom, carried by your momentum.

Guilt will come back to you later, sporadically, in episodes, but for the most part, you forfeit it wholly when you cross the threshold of room number 2.

He closes the door behind you and flicks up the toggle switch near the door frame. Two quaint lampshades blink to life on the headboard, casting a warm, subdued light. There’s no AC, or he hasn’t turned it on, and the atmosphere inside the room is already stifling, charged with his scent.  

“Took you long enough. Thought you wanted to see me,” he grunts, and the creature purrs inside your chest. 

“I did. I do.”

Stopping in the middle of the room, you turn around to face him. He’s standing tall and firm and mighty, feet planted apart on the carpeted floor, arms crossed over his chest. Yet you note his hands are splayed across his biceps, as if he were attempting to hug himself.

Perhaps that’s when you convince yourself Frankie is not his real name. Somehow, it makes it easier to believe you’re not the object of his ire. 

“Your friend didn’t tell you–”

“He’s not my friend,” you interrupt. “I only got your note earlier. Tonight.”

You let the implication sink in and your gaze travels down to the dip at the base of his neck and back up. The square, yellow bedroom provides you with the brightest environment you’ve ever had the leisure of observing him in. 

He’s beautiful, stunning, really, with unique and complex features. Almost pretty, but in a reluctant way, as if it was irrelevant to the life he’s chosen and led. His face speaks so loud, washed over by so many emotions, frustration, doubt and anger, and that lingering sadness in his dark eyes that tugs at your heart and twitches your fingers. 

“What’s your name?” he asks, tilting his chin in your direction.

Janet Leigh’s face pops up in black and white inside your mind, driving through a curtain of strident violins, skittish eyes flicking between the road ahead of her and the rearview mirror. 

“Marion,” you answer, inexplicably. 

“Marion,” he repeats, and you know he knows you’re lying. 

Unable to hold his gaze, you look away to the side, and he gives you time to take in the surroundings. The medium size bed with a stained, synthetic bedspread, the practical, shipped furniture, an angular chair and a desk surmounted by a rectangular framed mirror, the antique cathodic TV set hanging from the wall in the corner. The brown carpet. The yellow curtains. The painting of the Appalachian. 

And whatever your face says then makes him huff.

“Not what you expected? How did you think this was gonna be? How do you think these things go?”

You look at him again, stunned, lost, hurt maybe, that he should recognize you for what you don’t want to be. 

“I don’t know. I’ve never done this before,” you tell him in a small voice. 

He shakes his head, like you aimed to wound, and unconsciously, your fingers find your sternum, jittery, anxious to appease this wild creature scrabbling against your rib cage. 

“I shouldn’t be here,” he mutters hoarsely, shaking his head again, or still, “and you shouldn’t be here either, this is bullshit.”

And he’s right, once more, he is right, neither of you should be here. All the lines you walked, all the rules you abided by, meeting expectations and doing as you were told, and you still end up here, on the outskirts of town, in this gloomy motel. Facing this stranger, begging to surrender to him, with your heart in your hand and your life on your lips. 

Eyes strained on his, you move closer, cautious, with your palms upward, as if he were to jolt and scurry away if you were too sudden. If you tame him, perhaps you will tame the wild creature between your lungs as well.

Drawn to his skin, you brush the tips of your fingers along his bicep, and the taut muscle thrums under the freckled, tanned surface of him.

He’s holding his breath, hardened face, hardened stare, deepening crease, and your fingers skate up along the slope of his arm until they meet his hand. 

He’s difficult to catch, you think, even when willing to be caught, but it’s now very clear what you want for yourself. You want him. 

It matters not that he belongs to somebody else. If you’re here, it’s because he wants you too. Despair and desire have brought you together, combined, conjoined, converging.  

Your hand travels round to the back of his arm, soft and feather-like, up under the hem of his t-shirt, lifting his sleeve. His eyes are boring into yours. You lick your lips, slowly, and lower them to his skin. A light kiss, testing, tender and wet, and underneath it, a tremor. 

There’s a terrible density to his body. He’s tension and heat. Pressing your parted lips to his shoulder, you let your tongue peek out between them. You take in the tangy taste of him, it travels through your body like lava, like syrup, heavy and sticky and sweet and it pools down between your hips.

He’s completely still, eerily so. Emboldened, hopeful, you tug on his t-shirt, tentatively at first, and when he doesn’t stop you, when he unfolds his arms, you pull it off his frame, the hat coming off with it. You suck in a sharp breath at the sight of his naked head full of curls, lush and tousled. You want to run your fingers through them. You know that’s probably not a good idea. 

His chest, broad and solid, fills your vision, and your hands fly to his sternum where you press them, chasing something invisible, roaming up the plane of his chest, as delicately as possible. Your fingertips drum lightly along his collarbone, as if you were seeing him with your hands, as if all your senses were necessary to take in the whole of him. 

His frown turns imploring, his breathing shallow. 

“Tell me your name,” he murmurs, his deep baritone a pleading husk.

“You can call me whatever you like,” you answer, lifting his hand and taking his two first fingers into your mouth, eyelids fluttering. You cradle them with the flat of your tongue, brushing against the callous tips of them, saliva flooding your mouth around the salty taste. A moan escapes you, imperceptible, and his jaw ticks around a curse, something you don’t make out, something in Spanish, you’re too dazed with want, too dumb with thirst. 

Fire licks up your spine when he moves, fast and sure. His hand tangles in your hair and he sharply tugs your head back, his fingers popping out of your mouth with a hanging thread of saliva. His face has become a threat, a warning, a promise. He’ll give you what you want until you regret asking for it.

His mouth crushes yours, teeth colliding, and his tongue is inside you, swirling and licking. 

Like a dam that gives, his strength breaks and sweeps over you, crushing you into his chest with his hold and his kiss, fingers gripping your hair, your ass, and you let him have it, let him bruise your flesh with his need, scraping your fingernails up his arms, on his back. 

You’re smiling into the kiss, with relief and eagerness, squirming into him and he hardens his hold before releasing you, swift and sudden, grabbing your blouse and pulling it up in a feverish movement that you follow, lifting your arms like a docile little girl. A seam of the silky fabric rips around your shoulders. You don’t notice it. 

His face dives into the crook of your neck, the scruff of his beard grating your skin, and he sinks in his teeth, sucking hard and feral, and at first, you melt into it, before you remember. You force his chest away with both palms, whining, urgent, plaintive, “I can’t– can’t have marks,” when what you really want is to be covered in him. 

It makes him chuckle, and it sounds like a growl, so terribly dark, so profoundly disillusioned, that you shiver in the heat of his body. He squeezes your breasts through the thin cotton of your bra, it’s brutal and it hurts like retaliation.

“Get fucking naked, Marion.” 

Drawing away from him, you start working the button and zip fly of your skirt with fumbling fingers, blood beating fast and booming in your eardrums, while he toes off his shoes and undoes his belt buckle. Hard metal, the same one that was scraping against your belly when he was crushing you into his red truck, into white-hot pleasure. 

His skin looks amber and smooth under the mellow lighting, the harmonious muscles you guessed under his shirt on the very first night highlighted in shadows. A soft belly, and a long, sideways scar on his left side. Would he tell you the history of his wounds? Will you ever have the chance to ask? 

Your skirt crumples at your feet, you’re lost in the sight of him, arms falling limp at your sides. Self-consciousness skirts the edges of your lust. This body that you neglect and ignore at best, despise and mistreat if given the chance, will it be worth anything to him? Will he want you like you want him? With determination. Without dignity.  

When he pulls down his jeans and his boxer briefs in one deft motion, your eyes widen, but he’s grabbing your arm already, spinning you around like a doll and throwing you onto the bedspread. He climbs on the bed after you, the mattress dips with his weight. 

His firm hands spread your legs; he’s manhandled other bodies before yours, the skill evident with his dexterity, the experience obvious in his assurance, and you want to be all of them at once, lovers and enemies. 

His hand rubs over your damp panties and you buck into it, trying to raise yourself on your elbows to turn around. You want to see his face as he touches you, see his reaction at the evidence of your arousal, you want to watch his eyes when his cock breaches you, but he presses a large hand between your shoulder blades and pins you into the mattress with a grunt. 

He’s unlike anyone you’ve known before, brisk and rough and domineering, and you blush at your inexperience, at his irreverence, when he yanks your panties to the side and spits on your folds. The sheer obscenity feels like a reward for coming this far.  

Sprawling your arms forward, bunching the slippery fabric of the bedspread in your fists, you brace yourself, the round tip of his cock lining up at your entrance. 

He shoves himself inside you to the base, and you cry out at the blinding intrusion, the strength of his thrust hauling your body forward on the bed. With a harsh grasp, he slides you back down on his length and you bite down another cry, flesh gushing through the splayed fingers clutching your hips. 

Crouching over you, he presses his forehead heavy against the back of your head.

“Don’t move,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “don’t fucking move.”

His cock pulsates angry and swollen inside your throbbing pussy, his chest pressing down on your back with each uneven, shaky breath burning your nape.

Sitting back, he wraps his right hand around the strap of your bra and twists it around his fist, pulling on it for leverage as he begins to fuck into you. The thin elastic bands bite into your shoulders, raspy vibrations echoing from your throat straight into the bedding with each of his rhythmic pushes forward. 

He’s too much, too fast, too sudden. And he picks up the pace, forcing your right leg up with his knee and angling up his strokes, reaching deeper inside your core. He’s going to puncture your body from the inside, and you contract tight and rigid around his length, writhing underneath him, until he leans into your neck, close to your ear with a command, voice low and gravelly. 

“You want it, just fucking take it, then.” 

That wild thing inside your chest is swelling, madly swirling, your slick floods around his drilling length. Closing your eyes, the side of your face smearing makeup on the bedspread, you nod with just enough strength to exhale a breathless yes. 

Yes. Yes, you want it, just like so. You want to be used, shattered, obliterated by this man.

And so you relent. Curling your fists and sinking your fingernails into your palms, as the pain turns to pleasure and he rams into your taut heat, rams against your cervix, bending you backward, spine ready to snap with each forceful shove. 

The room is filled with the explicit sounds and noises of your emerging dirty secret. The relentless smack of his hips against your ass, the lewd squelch of his cock slamming in and out of your cunt, the creaking bedding, his feral groans, your grateful moans.

He’s miles away from you, but that’s what you came here for, drain the sadness from his eyes, make it yours, understand. If you’re only going to have him once, then you want it all. 

But his rhythm is faltering already, and it stops abruptly. He releases his grip on you and pulls out with a loud curse, leaving you empty, for all those things you never wanted in the first place to fill you up again.

You feel his knuckles brushing against the swell of your ass as he strokes himself into his release. He loses his balance, and braces his hand next to your face to catch himself as come spurts hot and rich into the curve of your arched back. 

He slaps his cock into the cleft of your cheeks once, twice, pumping out the last drops of his spend, and he collapses next to you, with a grunt when his back hits the bed, his chest heaving with exertion. 

Unshed tears weigh down your eyelids. Your heart rattles against your rib cage, frantic and irregular. Your blood is thick as molasses, of amber and gold, coursing dense and languid down your limbs, but your nerves are crackling like electrical wires of blue and purple. 

The creature between your lungs has tripled in size and your sore cunt throbs with your suspended orgasm. 

Sunk into the mattress, you’re unable to round your back or turn your head towards him. Everything hurts. Everything is alive.  

Reaching back blindly, you dip the tip of your fingers into the pool of his spend, and bring them back to your lips. Tasting him with delight and a quiet, strengthless moan. 

The mattress moves with him as he shifts on the bed, and you feel the warmth of his large hand covering the expanse of your lower back. 

Before you can relax into it, he flips you on your back with an easy strength, and you wince with the sudden change of position. What a mess you must look like, flushed face, sweat-damp hair, clotted mascara. 

He’s heavy, in his straddle of your thighs. He brings his hand to your mouth, and you open up for him, pulling out your tongue to lick his come-coated palm, wrapping your lips around his fingers as they glide over the hot wet muscle. You swallow his essence with fluttering eyelids, grateful, tears rolling down your temples. 

The soft light catches at the sheen of sweat gleaming over his chest, like he’s made of gold, leaning over you like a magnificent and merciful god, like you’ll grant him everything, and you bask into his radiance, your lips pursed into a new smile around his digits. 

The frown that hasn’t left his brow softens ever so slightly. His throat bobs, corded muscles, pebbled skin, the tension barely relieved. His fingers slip out of your mouth and come to cup your chin, so gentle your mind fails to comprehend. His touch lingers, warm and relenting and it becomes a caress, trailing down the line of your throat and coming to rest over your beating pulse at the base of your neck. 

“Are you real?” he asks, sorrow blurring his dark eyes. 

“I don’t know,” you murmur, beading sweat, beading tears. “Make me be.”

He breathes in deeply, and perhaps it’s the first time in years he breathes in so freely.  

“Okay,” he nods.

Slowly, with the tip of his tongue darting between his parted lips, he tugs down your bra to the side. His calloused palm finds the soft swell of your breast, and his warmth radiates through your skin. His hold strengthens, he pinches your nipples with his two first fingers, the ones you took in your mouth earlier, harder, until your mouth goes slack with pleasure and with pain, and you keep smiling at him through it all.

Loose, trustful, pliant, you watch as he drags your panties down along your damp skin and spreads your thighs. He pauses, eyes on your core and you lie still, exposed and opened, feeling no shame. 

His curls, matted with sweat, are stuck in locks to his forehead. Where was he, when you were still hopeful? Were you too young for him, then?

He dives between your hips, and his teeth bite into the soft skin of your inner thigh. You jerk, palm pushing feebly onto the crown of his head and he freezes, eyes shut, like he doesn’t have enough willpower to let go, like too much of his control has already waned and thawed.

“Please,” you coo, “please. I’ll get in so much trouble.”

And your heart sinks a little with apprehension because, surely, he’ll scoff at you again, but instead he just lets go, bringing his fingers to your swollen folds to part them. 

A small whimpering sound escapes you when he latches his lips around your clit, but the sensation is nothing like what you anticipated. Of his previous roughness, only the bruising digging of his fingers into the plush of your hips remains.

His mouth is warm and soothing, a liquid caress, the touch from the tip of his tongue precise but gentle. He shifts with a soft groan, applying more pressure and you keen, head trashed back into the bed. Instantly, he adjusts his grasp, pulling you closer to his face, suckling on your clit with more insistence. 

The smooth skin of your calves brushes over his shoulders, your heels digging into the muscles of his back and you’re reminded of that first night again, when he swiveled around to meet your gaze, soft sad eyes, hard cold stare. Your orgasm builds up fast, embarrassingly so, encouraged by his heavy breathing fanning the soft curls on your mound.

The wild creature melts into your blood and flows down to your core, branching out to every nerve from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. And when you come, you come sharp and bright, with your hand clasped over your mouth to muffle a loud mewl and your back arched from the bed. 

He forsakes his restored restraint when you recoil from the overstimulation, hardening his hold and fastening his mouth over your cunt to lap up your release, tongue diving in, greedy, burning your walls. 

You’re still shaking with the aftershock when he releases you and rises above your trembling body. Lying his forehead on your belly, heavy head, heavy breathing, sweat dripping on your skin, he stays there until his breathing slows down, falling in rhythm with yours. You reach down for his hair, threading your fingers through his curls, at last, and he gives in, leans into the tenderness of your touch. 

A stray tear slides down into your hairline and it’s over, he’s gone, standing up, his broad back turned to you, gathering his clothes and dressing up. 

The notion of the world around you resurfaces. Outside, tucked away in the heart of the night, countless other wild creatures dwell and carry on, moved by fear or desire, and you lie still in that crushing knowledge. Soon, you will have to leave this bed, confront your solitude to theirs.

You roll to your side and curl up on yourself, drifting with the soft droning from the sleeping creature between your lungs and the sweet soreness thrumming between your hips. 

He’s at the door, putting his hat back on, when you call out his name. 

“Frankie.” 

It passes your lips for the very first time, a long kept secret, a forbidden vow, a usurped oath, and immediately you want to say it again. You want it to be real. You want it to be yours.

Frankie pauses and tilts his head towards the bed without facing you completely. 

“Thank you,” you say.

He opens the door to a draft of air wafting in, charged with the salty, humid scent of the faraway bay. He’s about to cross the threshold, and disappear into the night, when he speaks. 

“The room is paid for til morning. I’ll see you next Friday.”

****

Additional note: I woke up on day and decided to build a multiverse of orange bedroom Frankies 🧡 For those who've read PTMY, can you spot all the clues? This Frankie is really pissed off, though, but I kinda like it. I hope you'll like it too 🧡

Taglist (thank you 🧡): @elegantduckturtle @mashomasho @lola766 @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine @nicolethered @littleone65 @bands-tv-movies-is-me @the-rambling-nerd @saintbedelia @pedrostories @trickstersp8 @all-the-way-down-here @deadmantis @hbc8 @princessdjarin @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @gracie7209 @mrsparknuts @your-voice-is-mellifluous @mylostloversbookmarks @readingiskeepingmegoing @lovesbiggerthanpride @youandmeand5bucks-blog @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @southernbe @blackvelveteen1339 @anoverwhelmingdin @casa-boiardi @nandan11 @jessthebaker @pedroshotwifey @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @noisynightmarepoetry

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Compotation

Warnings: non/dubcon, coercion and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Part of Roo’s Pajama Party (October 7-8)

Prompt: Compotation - a drinking or tippling together. (List of prompts here) + this look

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. I hope you enjoy this one and have a lovely weekend.

The world is awash with ripples. You feel heavy and light at once. The slosh in your stomach weighs you down as your head feels hollow.  

You focus on measuring out the shot of tequila. You splash a little as you dump it into the bigger glass and add grapefruit juice and a bit of fizzy water. You swallow a belch and slam down the can, spilling even more onto the counter. You’re too angry, and tipsy, to care about any of it. 

Knock, knock, knock. Fuckkkkk. It’s probably the neighbour come to whine about your music. It’s not even that loud. And it’s good music. Well, she can go rot with your boyfriend. Maybe even soon to be ex. 

You take your drink with you to the door. Your fuzzy pants brush together warmly as coolness spreads over your exposed midriff. It’s too bad Bucky didn’t stay long enough to appreciate your new pajamas. No, you told him to go. No, good... 

Maybe it’s him. He is so forgetful you wouldn’t put it past him to forget his own damn keys. You open the door, ready to bluster at neighbour and boyfriend alike. Your mouth hangs open as your met with a third unexpected option. 

“Sam,” you blub out like a fish. “Oh, hey. He’s not here.” 

“Oh,” he tilts his head, “figures. He’s not answering my texts. What’s going on? Party?” 

He looks at your drink and you scoff. You take a deep gulp of the alcohol laced juice. You should slow down but you won’t. You don’t do this. No, you behave. You do everything Bucky tells you and he can’t do just one thing. One. Thing. 

“Sure is,” you slur. “Party of one. I’ll tell him you stopped by when he drags himself home.” 

Before you can close the door, he puts his hand against it, his strength easily blocking your own. You blink at him. 

“What did he do?” He hums. 

You roll your eyes, “what do you care? You’re his friend.” 

“Oh, ouch. Kitten, I thought we were friends.” 

“Mm, well, I guess,” you shrug. 

“So, what are friends for, huh? Why don’t you tell me all about that deadbeat?” He smirks and smoothly edges his way inside. You don’t stop him. You could use the company. 

You back up and blow a raspberry as you play back the argument that turned into Bucky yelling and you just a staring blankly. Then he left. No apology. No nothing. Somehow, you became the guilty party. 

“He forgot our anniversary,” you grumble. “You know, just what he does. He can tell me what battle happened on what day, but he can’t remember our first date.” 

“He forgot? Jesus, now how could he forget a girl like you?” 

“Whatever, I don’t wanna talk about it,” you pause and slurp again. “You want a drink? You know, he can’t get drunk. He sucks down those beers for what? Because he likes the taste of piss?” You sneer. 

Sam snickers. 

“What?” You bluster. 

“Nothing, I just... I’ve never seen you angry.” 

“Yeah, well, I've been too accepting,” you spit. “So you wanna drink? Tequila and grapefruit. Or I have some peach juice.” 

You lick the moisture from your lips and sway on your feet. 

“Uh, sure, might as well,” he accepts. 

“Uno momento,” you hold up a finger and drain your glass. You let out a long aaah as you finish then stagger into the kitchen. Are you leaning or are the walls? 

You take out another glass. “Hey, grapefruit or--” you lower your voice as he enters the kitchen, “peach.” 

“Mm, peach sounds sweet,” he says as he unzips his jacket. He hangs it on the back of one the tall chairs along the island. You hate them. You told Bucky they’re too high. 

“Coming right up,” you declare. 

You pour the drinks with a bit more care than before. Yet, your hands are just as clumsy. When at last you present him with a glass, it’s dripping. He doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Hey, his loss.” Sam says as he turns and waves you out ahead of him. “I mean, old man should be ecstatic to hang out with a girl like you. He don’t know what he’s got.” 

“No, he doesn’t,” you agree as you strut out into the front room. “You know, I didn’t even ask him to do anything. I set the date, I called the venue... he can’t even show up!” 

“Aw, baby,” Sam sits with you on the couch. He takes a small sip as you swig back a mouthful. “That’s not fair. You deserve better than that.” 

“I do,” you force yourself to put the cup down as you stomach stirs hotly. You wipe your sticky hands on your pajamas. He surprises you as his fingers wander over to touch the fuzzy fabric.  

“Soft,” he comments, “he’s really missing out.” 

“You like them? They’re new,” you look down at the crop top and pants. 

“Soft and cute. Like you, kitten,” he drawls and reaches to put his glass next to yours.  

Your head bobbles dizzily as you give a long blink. He continues to pet your pants, feeling the fluffiness. You can feel his touch beneath. It makes your skin hot. 

“You okay, baby?” He asks. 

You pout and shake your head. Your anger rolls into sadness, “no,” you sniffle as tears rise to the brims of your eyes, “no. Why doesn’t he care?” 

“Aw, honey,” he stretches his arm across your back and you fall against him, burying your face in his shoulder, “it’s okay. I got you.” 

“I tried so hard,” you snivel into his shirt as he rubs your back. His other hand cradles your head as he rocks and hushes you. “What am I gonna do? We signed a lease. We—we—I don’t think there’s any we--” 

His hand creeps down to your neck and he extends his thumb under your jaw. He nudges you up as he draws away. He slides his hand under your chin and you flick your lashes against your tears. Before your vision can clear, his lips are on yours. 

You push against his chest as you squeak in surprise. What is he doing? You tear your mouth away and gasp. 

“Sam!” You sputter. 

“Mm, he doesn’t deserve you, baby. Come on, let me show you what you need--” 

“What-- why--” you gulp. “No, I can’t.” 

“Kitten,” his hand falls down to your ass, “when’s the last time he even fucked you? I know you’re not all worked up just because a fight.” 

You blanch and push your lip out. How does he know? You shake your head. “No, that’s not...” 

“How long, baby?” He puts both hands on your hips and grips, kneading down to your thighs. 

“No--” 

“A month?” 

You look away as your eyes gloss over once more. 

“Longer?” 

You shiver and grab his hands. 

“Two... three...” 

You shake as you cling to him, “please, Sam--” 

“Six months? That’s it, right? Little longer?” 

“How--” you choke on your unintended confession. “No, Sam.” 

“I’m gonna treat you right, just relax,” he purrs. 

“I can’t. I love him,” you insist. 

“He doesn’t love you if he ain’t touching you,” he lurches your hips and easily puts you on your back. He shifts so that his knee is on the couch and drags the other up beside it. “Fuck, kitten, look at you,” he runs his hands up and down your thighs, “all dressed up for me, huh?” 

“Sammy, please--” 

“Mm, yes, keep calling me Sammy, baby,” his nails graze the fabric and he fingers curl around the elastic. 

You groan and press your hand to your forehead as your vision thrums. Your temples pound and your heart races in panic. You’re too drunk. 

He tugs and strips the pants past your ass. You whimper and throw your arm out. 

“Sammy... I... don’t feel good.” 

Your eyes roll back under your eyelids. You take deep breaths as you try to sober yourself. It only adds to the swirling sensation. Your legs raze with goosebumps as he frees your ankles from the elastic tails of the pajamas. You shiver and arch your back, exposed and weak. 

He growls as a rustle stirs the air and the fabric heaps noisily on the floor. He grabs your leg and bends it, leaning it against the back of the couch. He pulls your other over the edge as the couch jostles beneath him. You blink and see his blurry figure looming over you as he bends over your pelvis. 

You twitch and whine as he flutters his fingers along your folds. Your thighs tense. Your foot dangles just over the floor as your other sinks into the crack behind the cushion. Sam lowers himself as you retreat behind your eyelids. 

His breath fans over you as he hums and hovers over your pussy. He purrs and nuzzles the patch of hair. You moan and reach down blindly. He grabs your hand and shoves it back and slides his tongue between your lips. You gasp and spasm. 

He swipes his tongue again. You groan and your head falls to one side. You tilt your hips as he tends to you slowly, dragging up over your clit in long strokes before flicking back down. 

Shame speckles over you as you remember who he is. What he’s doing. This is Sam. This is Bucky’s best friend. Your friend. You're just friends. 

You squeeze your eyes shut as you dig down into denial. This isn’t real. Your drunk. This is all just the twisted delusion of your alcohol-laden mind. It’s not Sam making you feel so delicious. It’s Bucky. It’s Bucky. It can’t be anyone else. 

He reaches up your stomach, tickling your bare skin, and slides his fingers beneath the bottom of your top. He fondles your chest as he laps at your hungrily. You moan and clasp onto his hand. It’s so good. So good it has to be Bucky. 

You roll your hips in time with his tongue. You reach down with your other hand to push his head down. You need the release. It’s been so long since you got more than the fleeting pleasure of your vibrator. The warmth, the eagerness, the need in his touch enthralls you. 

You murmur and mewl as your thighs tingle and your spine zing. You’re almost there. You feel the tension twisting tighter, tighter, tighter. You flex your feet as you tilt your hips frantically and cling to his head. 

Your orgasm spills over and you cry out, “oh, Bucky, Bucky....” 

He sucks on your clit as your climax crests and dissipates in a smattering of nerves. You huff and heave as you yawling turns to gibberish. His breath is damp as he pants against your leg before slowly raising himself. 

He grabs your jaw and sets your head straight. Sam’s voice cuts through your fantasy. Your eyes round as you stare up at his dire expression. He shoves down his jeans impatiently as he squeezes until your bones ache. 

He bends over, resting his hard dick against your cunt, and rocks against you. He smears his length along your wet folds, thrusting slowly, just enough to thrum but not enough to stoke anything more. You wriggle and whine. 

“Forget him, kitten,” he continues his deliberate thrusts, “you’ll be begging for me and only me soon enough.” 

[castielsprostate]

VENOM 3 SPOILERS AHEAD!!! and veryyyy unorganized thoughts below the cuttt!!!

first of all. OH MY GOD. genuinely this was a beautifully executed storyline, with the most bitter, heartwrenching ending. tom hardy when i fucking GET YOU!!!!!!!!!!

okay. im in actual, real life tears over this movie. venom saved eddie's life within, what? 3 days of knowing him? a week tops? and venom brought eddie back from the fucking dead!!!!!!! DESPITE KNOWING!!!!!!!!! WHAT WOULD HAPPEN!!!!!! despite knowing he would trigger the codex, venom still saved eddie's fucking life! which is especially interesting considering the symbiote in mulligan, which i am assuming was in him for a WHILE, left him to die (fair!) at the end of the second movie! venom saved eddie's life. without a second thought.

also this definitely was a love story between eddie and venom. they literally had their break up arc in the second movie(!) and this tied a beautiful, bitter end to their very tragic story. venom saying, to eddie, what martin said. "until we meet again", genuine tears in my eyes. it showed venom's humanity, everything he learned, from eddie and others. to me, personally, venom is still with eddie. they're living symbiotically, with eddie on one side of the door and venom on the other. nierka(??? i totally butchered that lmao). eddie saying i will never forget you buddy while looking at lady liberty. GOD. eddie isn't alone anymore! eddie won't EVER be alone!!!!!!!!!! despite what everyone told him!!!!!!!!! eddie has venom, maybe not physically right now, but he still has a part of him!!!!!!!! they're both free. they're both. GAH.

also there still is a bit of venom left. in a tiny test tube, at the bottom of area 55. don't think i forgot about that!!!!! he's still there, they never showed us that it actually got destroyed. and EYE believe that venom found eddie, after they blew up. and it somehow, in some marvel magic sparkles way reset the codex. they still have each other, until the end!!!!! TILL DEATH DO THEY PART!!!!!!!!!!!!!

genuinely, the writers cared. tom hardy cared!!!!!!! i don't know how many people he had to keep under gunshot to get this, but he gave us a beautiful trilogy about love and friendship and humanity and finding each other. the queerness of it all, the found family (except the chickens. how DARE eddie give the chickens away. for that alone he should've died).

eddie saying he was born with it [the weird arms] also just. god it added another layer didn't it? also what actually happened to that guy. like. he got his bar destroyed, and then he got fucking tazed lmao??? what did they do to him????? also the WAY that in the "sacred timeline" the bartender looked all cleaned up and put together despite the fucking snap 💀💀💀💀 and how the bar was nicer. the disney filter!!!!!!!!!

that also left a very veryyy clear way for them to bring eddie!venom back but in the MCU, because they didn't show the TVA resetting the timeline! venom saying eddie would've made a great father. well. you had carnage and i think it's best you don't try again huh.

i missed anne, but i think that her not being there was. good? it was good. she and eddie truly loved each other as friends and whilst i hoped they'd at least have a phone call or a singular scene together, i do get why they didn't! she moved on with her life, and it was time for eddie to move on with his. her telling venom to keep him safe at the end of the second movie. and he did! he gave his own life for eddie's, he kept his promise. i just. GOD. venom keeping eddie alive as the symbiotehunters kept coming and coming and coming. keeping eddie from looking back, and healing him one. last. time. HE DIDN'T EVEN NEED TO SAY I LOVE YOU!!!!! EDDIE JUST KNEW!!!!!!! EDDIE!!!!!! KNEW!!!!!!!!!!!

eddie saying "but i need him". it had me bawling. BAWLING. but i need him. oh eddie. EDDIE. 😭😭😭😭😭 anne said he was too afraid of commitment and yet. AND YET. he was willing to DIE for an alien!!!!!! and to then say he needs him. god.

was the movie a bit retconn-y? maybe. did they use this as a segway for more movies with different characters? absolutely lmao. was it an ad for crocs? yes that too. but i think that this was a good end. they won't drag it out, they won't destroy a good comic for more money (for now). the song choices were also OUTSTANDING. the symbiotes coming together to save eddie and venom, because they knew!!!!! THEY KNEW!!!!!!!! eddie nor venom sparing a second look at sexy ladies!!!!!!!!!!! the dancing with mrs chen!!!!!!!! GAH

to me, right now, eddie and venom are sitting on a beach, toes in the sand, finally sipping the bloody mary that venom didn't get to drink at the beginning with miss chen on one side, anne and dan enjoying the ocean, and agent mulligan on the other side. alive, happy, together. and the bartender. he's there too. for funsies.