#lolita series

[gabgabwrites]

LOLITA | Patrick Zweig

2 -> RIVER

summary ⇝ everyone needed an escape from the blistering sun, and thankfully River Day was the perfect excuse for that, except even when trying to cool off, you can’t help but feel hot and heavy with a certain neighbour’s sweet talkings.

warnings ⇝ language, suggestive talking, Patrick shamelessly ogles reader coz he’s low-key a perv (then again…it’s Patrick)

That Saturday was almost as hot as the rest of the week. You wanted to peel back your skin and lay in the fridge but that was not possible.

The day was blisteringly hot, and the heat felt like a heavy, oppressive force, weighing down on your shoulders and making you feel sticky and sweaty. The air seemed thick and hot, and even the simplest tasks seemed to exhaust you.

You tried to find ways to beat the heat, taking cold showers and wearing light clothes. But no matter what you did, the heat was relentless.

You were almost upside down on the couch, fanning yourself while your father foraged around in the fridge for a cool beer to quench his thirst, then let out an annoyed grumble.

"Damn, there's nothing but lukewarm beer in there,” he closed the door with an irritated sigh and turned to you, taking in your uncomfortable state."You doing okay, kiddo? You look like you're about to melt."

You groaned, letting your arm drop. "It feels like it, I don't understand how we don't have a giant pool like all those rich people."

Your father chuckled, his eyes twinkling in a mix of amusement and understanding. "Yeah, tell me about it. If only we had that kind of money, right? But hey, at least we have the river to cool off in, even if it's not as fancy as a pool."

"We can only go tomorrow. Miss Higgins says she's gonna host a river day or something." You shrugged, trying to sit up before your head ached and your vision blurred.

You quickly blinked the feeling off before sitting back onto the couch.

The small box TV you had was saying something about a heat wave, and that it was going to get worse.

The TV droned in the background, reporting on the heat wave and the predictions that it would get even hotter in the coming days. The news anchor's voice was dry and monotonous, as if they were used to reporting on the heat.

"And there you have it folks, the heat wave is expected to get even worse in the next few days, with temperatures reaching record highs. Make sure to stay hydrated and cool as much as possible."

There was a knock to the door. You were lazily watching the news when you suddenly heard a knock at the door. You sat up a bit, your eyes flickering towards the door.

"Pa, someone's at the door." You called into the kitchen, where your father was still rummaging around.

Your father stuck his head out of the kitchen, a beer bottle in one hand and a slightly annoyed look on his face.

"Huh? Who would be knocking at this hour?" He asked.

"Need me to get it?"

Your father let out a breath through his nose and nodded. "Yeah, you mind getting it, kiddo? I'm in the middle of something out here." He gestured toward the kitchen counter with the beer bottle.

You got up, and walked over the the door, that held a few drawings of your childhood, before opening it, revealing the very woman you just spoke about.

"Ah, Miss Higgins, what brings you here?"

Miss Higgins is standing on the porch, her face shining with a cheerful smile.

She is wearing a light, airy sundress, the kind that looks perfect for a hot day like this.

"Oh, hello dear," she says brightly. "I just came by to deliver the flyers for tomorrow's river day. I thought you and your dad could use a copy."

Your nose crinkled as you smiled at the woman. She was always so polite to everyone, always offered them extra cookies or knitted wear. "Thank you, Miss Higgins. Pa and I will definitely be there."

Miss Higgins beamed at your response, pleased that you would be attending the river day.

"Oh, wonderful," she said, her voice brimming with excitement. "I'm so glad to hear that. It's going to be a lovely day, you know. We'll have a little picnic, some music, and of course, plenty of swimming."

You nodded, staring at her marbled eyes that beamed through her thick lensed glasses. "Sounds wonderful. Need us to bring anything? We're more than happy to help?"

She let out a sigh, her weight shifting from one foot to the other. "Look, I have about a few more houses to drop this off to, but my hip, sweetheart...it's too sore and I’m getting old. Would you be dear and hand these out, that's about as much as you can do for me."

You looked at her with concern, noticing the discomfort on her face. You felt a pang of empathy for the elderly woman, knowing she was getting older and the tasks of everyday life were getting more difficult for her.

"Of course, Miss Higgins," you replied, taking the flyers from her. "Don't you worry about a thing. I'll make sure these get delivered."

She smiled thankfully. "You're so nice to this granny right here, just like your mom, thank you. I'll bake you an extra muffin for tomorrow. How's that sound?"

You felt a warm feeling in your chest at the mention of your mom, and at the same time, you were touched by Miss Higgins' kindness. "That sounds great, Miss Higgins," you replied, returning her smile. "I'll look forward to those extra muffins tomorrow, thank you."

She nodded happily before turning and trotting off to her caravan, two trailers down.

You watched as Miss Higgins made her way back to her caravan, her steps somewhat slower than usual. You hoped she would be okay, and that she wouldn't overexert herself with the flyers.

With the flyers in hand, you closed the door and turned to your father, who was now leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping a beer.

"Pa?" You called out.

Your father looked up from his beer and gave you a curious glance. "Yeah, kiddo? What's up?" He asked.

"Miss Higgins came by and gave me these," you placed one flyer on the countertop. "Flyers for tomorrow, but she wants me to hand out the rest. Just thought I'd let you know where im off to."

Your father took a swig of his beer, his eyes flickering over the flyer. He seemed to consider what you said for a moment, before nodding. "Alright then," he grunted. "Be careful, kid. Don't go walking around in this damn heat for too long."

You nodded. "Kay, see you."

Your father gave you a small wave as you took the flyer and headed back out the door. "Yeah, be back soon," he replied. "And mind yourself, it's hot as hell out there."

You nodded before turning and leaving.

You stepped outside and felt the full force of the heat hit you like a wall of hot air. The sun was blazing high in the sky, and the heat shimmered off the ground.

You felt the sweat already start to form on your skin as you made your way down the row of trailers.

There were about seventy off trailers to visit, and Miss Higgins stopped at four.

With a heavy sigh you began on your voyage.

As you began your trek down the row of trailers, you clutched the flyers in your hand, feeling the sweat start to drip down your forehead. The humidity was stifling, and the sun beat down on you mercilessly. But you were determined to hand out the flyers, knowing it would make Miss Higgins happy. You went from door to door, knocking and waiting for each trailer occupant to answer. Some were happy to take the flyers, others were grumpy from the heat, and some trailers remained unanswered no matter how many times you knocked, leaving you to slip the paper under the door.

You repeated this process for what seemed like an eternity, knocking on door after door, feeling the sun and heat beating down on you. The trailers all looked the same after the first few, but you continued on, sweat now plastering your clothes to your skin.

You dodged that trailer until it was the only one left.

The last trailer was the one you had silently promised yourself to save until last. The thought of dealing with the rude man from the day before was not something you were looking forward to.

But now, with the last flyer clutched in your hand, you had no choice. You sighed silently, steeling yourself before heading up the path and knocking on the trailer door. You didn't want to see him, for many reasons. One, he's rude, two, he's rude, three... well you had erogenous thoughts about him.

You cursed. Your mind raced as you stood outside his trailer, feeling conflicting emotions.

You didn't want to see him, knowing how unfriendly and rude he could be. But there was something more, a feeling of curiosity and attraction that you couldn't shake, no matter how much you hated yourself for it.

You took a deep breath and braced yourself, trying to push those thoughts out of your mind as you waited for him to answer the door.

You could hear footsteps from inside the trailer drawing closer and closer to the door. They echoed in your ears as you stood on the porch, awaiting his appearance. Soon, the footsteps stopped right on the other side of the door.

You held your breath, waiting for the door to open. After a moment, the door opened, revealing the man you had been dreading to see again. He was as intimidating and foreboding as ever, his dark eyes boring into you with an intense gaze.

He looked at you with unreadable expression, his face a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

You took in a breath. "Evening, uh..."

The man stood in the doorway, his gaze still fixed on you. He didn't say anything for a moment, just silently staring at you with his dark eyes. Finally, he spoke, his voice as blunt as ever. "What do you want?"

"Okay, so that's how it's gonna be," you mumbled to yourself. "Well, Miss Higgins, who lives at number 2 is having a river day tomorrow. It's up by the river a block away, and it's a nice way to cool off. She's given me flyers to hand out, so." You stuck your arm out and extended the flyer to him.

The man's eyes flicked down to the flyer you had extended towards him. He made no move to take it, just stood there with his arms crossed, his expression still unreadable but seeming slightly annoyed. "A river day, huh?" He grunted, his tone gruff.

You nodded. The man's gaze flicked from the flyer to you and back again. He seemed to be debating something in his head, his arms still crossed over his chest, his expression still guarded.

Finally, he reached out and took the flyer, but not before his fingers brushed against yours, sending a shiver up your spine. He held the flyer in his hand, but didn't look at it, just continued to stare at you.

You could feel the heat of his gaze, intense and penetrating, it made your heart beat a little faster.

"A whole day of swimming and music?" He asked, his voice a low grumble.

You nodded again. "Yep, so bring your swimming and picnic stuff," you told him. "It'll be a nice way for you to get to know everyone."

The man's eyes flicked over you, studying you with a mix of curiosity and annoyance. He folded the flyer in half and placed it on the side table next to the door, his eyes not leaving yours. "You think I want to get to know these people?" He asked, his voice rough and a crinkle in his nose.

You pursed your lips. "I mean, I guess? Most of us are nice, except for Janice's lot and Terence and his wife, but we're all one big community."

The man rolled his eyes at that, and let out a scoff. "One big community," he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, that sounds real special and all, sweetheart."

You couldn't help the scoff that left your lips. "Okay, there's no need to talk like you've got a stick up your ass. We do take pride in being a community and we'd happily extend it to anyone, who's willing."

The man's eyes widened in surprise at your scathing remark, but the corner of his lips twitched up into a small, almost impressed smile. "Well, look at you," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Seems like you've got more fire than I gave you credit for."

He leaned against the doorframe, his arms still crossed, eyeing you with a newfound curiosity. His lips quirked up in a small smile.

"And here I thought you were just a pretty face." He mumbled, that gruff timbre of his voice sounding a tad more gravelly.

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, so guess I'll see you there or something, don't forget to bring something to share, it is a picnic after all."

The man's smile remained on his face, his eyes locked onto yours. He nodded slowly, his gaze still intense as he continued to lean against the doorframe.

"I guess you will," he replied, his gruff voice taking a more plavful tone. "And I won't forget. I'll make sure to bring something good, just for you."

You clicked your tongue, giving him no other response other than a quick 'Bye', before walking away.

The man watched as you walked away, his gaze following you until you were a few paces down the paved path.

As you made your way back down the path, you could feel his eyes on your back, a feeling that sent a shiver down your spine.

You didn't look back, but you could practically feel his gaze burning into you as you got farther and farther away from his trailer.

You pushed open the door to your trailer and gently closed it behind you, seeing your dad had finished his beer and was washing it down with soda.

Your dad looked up as you came in and shut the door behind you. He was sipping on a cold soda, his eyes drifting over you as you walked in. "Hey, kiddo," he greeted you. "How'd it go? You hand out all the flyers?"

You nodded. "Yes, most said they'd go while others didn't open the door. Janice almost lost her gold tooth with the way she was talking, but I sorted it out," you told him. "You leave some pop for me?"

Your dad chuckled at the mention of Janice, shaking his head fondly. He gestured towards the refrigerator where a few cans of soda were sitting. "Yeah, I left a few cans for ya," he replied. "How many times do I have to tell ya not to listen to that old bat?"

You grumbled, turning to the fridge and pooling out a cherry flavoured soda. "Yeah, yeah, but it's hard not to when she's rattling your ear drum. You know she's pregnant, again?"

Your dad let out a deep sigh and nodded, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, I know," he grumbled. "That's what, baby number six now? She seems mighty fertile for an old woman."

You snorted, before plonking yourself on your usual spot on the couch. "Her and Buck breed like rabbits."

Your dad chuckled at that, shaking his head in agreement. "Yeah, they sure do. Can't keep their hands to themselves," he said with a smirk. "And you wouldn't believe how loud they are too, sounds like a damn zoo."

You cringe. "Okay, Pa, you can keep that one to yourself." You shivered.

Your dad chuckled again and held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, 'll keep it to myself. Just remember, kiddo, make sure you use protection when you get to my age." He gave you a pointed look, with a look of humour in his eye.

You smacked your lips, pushing yourself off the couch. "Yep, and you ruined my drink, thanks."

Your dad laughed and shook his head, grinning cheekily. "Just trying to look out for ya," he replied, still chuckling. "I don't want any sudden grandkids running around just yet."

You shook your head. "Bummer, and here I was planning on making you an early grandpa."

Your dad let out a full hearty laugh at that, slapping his knee once before taking another glug of soda.

"Ah, you got jokes, huh?" He said, grinning. "You're a real comedian, I tell you. But I'm not ready for that, not yet."

"And it'll be that way for a while." You told him before disappearing into your room.

With that, your dad turned back to the TV, still shaking his head and chuckling to himself silently as the sounds of a sports game blared in the background.

You flipped onto your bed, your bedroom was once a brilliant pink, now sun-bleached into the palest pink imaginable. You had glass charms dangling from the curtain rods, and a neat bookshelf you cared for deeply, Teddy bears decorated your bed, and so did flurry cushions, and other than the singular framed picture of a white mustang, your walls were bare.

You lay on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. The sounds of the sports game and your dad's occasional laugh from the living room provided a familiar background noise.

Your mind wandered, thinking about the river day tomorrow and the man who lived in the last trailer. You couldn't quite put your finger on why he made you feel So... strange.

You groaned, before flipping yourself over and grabbing a book to read and tried to distract yourself from the heat and the thoughts of that man. It was a familiar book, one you'd read many times before, but it was comforting and it helped take your mind off things. You lay on your bed, the book propped in your lap, trying to lose yourself in the story instead of the thoughts that kept popping into your head.

And eventually you found yourself getting lost in the pages.

Your eyes scanned the pages of the book, the familiar words drawing you in and making you forget about the thoughts that had been nagging at the back of your mind.

Soon, your surroundings faded away as you became completely immersed in the story, the sounds of the TV and your dad's laughs fading to the background as you transported yourself to the world of the book.

That was the last thing you remembered before you woke up, your cheek stuck to your arm and the book kicked off to the side.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you groggily sat up, realizing that you must have dozed off while reading. Your cheek was warm from being pressed against your arm, and the book lay discarded on the bed next to you. You rubbed your eyes, slowly coming back to reality, and wondered how long you had been asleep for.

You glanced around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings, and then your eyes found the clock on your bedside table. It said it was almost four o'clock in the atternoon.

You let out a sigh, realizing you had only been asleep for an hour or so. You sat back against the headboard, feeling a sudden wave of restlessness wash over you.

Blinking away the sleep in your eyes, you looked out the window, seeing the sun was out. A smile tugged on your lips when you remembered it was River Day today.

The sun was still high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the trailer park outside your window, and you felt a sudden burst of energy at the thought of spending the rest of the day by the river. Hurriedly you got up and ran off to the kitchen to eat breakfast.

You rushed into the kitchen, the energy coursing through you making you feel eager to start the day.

Your dad was sitting at the small kitchen table, sipping on a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. He looked up at you as you entered and raised an eyebrow in question. "Someone's full of energy today, huh?" He said with a chuckle, setting down his cup of coffee and folding his newspaper.

You nodded. "Of course I am," you saw your dad had made you waffles, you turned to him while picking up the plate. "Thanks, Pa."

Your dad smiled in response, his eyes warm and kind. "No problem, kiddo," he replied. "You know I always got your back."

He sat back in his chair, watching you as you carried your plate over to the table and sat down to eat the waffles he had made for you. Once the last drop of syrup was scraped off your plate, your dad didn't bat an eye as you jumped up to go get ready.

The bikini you chose to wear was white and had a big, red love heart on each cup while the matching thongs were just plain white. You thought an oversized T-Shirt would be great for a cover up so you grabbed one, it used to be your dads but it somehow found its way to your closet, it was old and torn, and had a worn out print of the American flag.

You grabbed your sunglasses and sunscreen and placed them in a small bag before exiting your room.

The last thing you grabbed was your even fuller basket of peaches, more were picked and they were stored in the fridge to keep them cool. Your dad started the truck and you climbed into the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt as he pulled out of the driveway.

Looking out the window, you noticed that many of your neighbors were also heading to the river, either walking or driving in their own vehicles. The excitement in the air was palpable, and you could feel it buzzing around you like electricity.

As soon as the beat-up, red truck parked, you threw open your door and grabbed your basket of peaches.

You and your dad hopped out of the truck, the basket of peaches balanced precariously in your arms as you slammed the door behind you.

The sounds of laughter and music greeted you as soon as you stepped out, and the sun was beating down onto the grass of the riverbank, making the atmosphere feel hot and sultry.

The river was an iridescent shade of blue, and all shades of green trees on the opposite side. The river sparkled in the sunlight like a jewel, its waters clear and refreshing, while the trees on the opposite side cast shadows onto the riverbank, providing a little respite from the heat.

You looked around and noticed that many of your neighbors had already taken up their spots on the riverbank, some swimming in the water, and some simply lounging on the grass.

You helped your dad throw open a picnic blanket, before he popped open a cooler, that was just for the two of you, and you grabbed your peaches, taking that to the plastic tables set out for those who brought something to share.

You and your dad spread out the picnic blanket on the riverbank, the soft fabric sinking into the grass, and then he opened the cooler and started to pull out some snacks and cold drinks.

Once the cooler was unpacked, you picked up your basket of peaches and carried it over to the plastic tables set up nearby.

You placed the basket on the table, the peaches looking plump and ripe, and stood back, admiring the spread of food laid out before you.

Your eyes lit up as Miss Higgins appeared, a friendly smile on her face and a box of muffins in her hands.

"There you are!" She called out, her cheerful voice drawing your attention. She handed you the carefully wrapped box of muffins, the smell of freshly baked goods wafting out of the paper. "And here you go, sweetheart. Just as I promised," Miss Higgins said, her eyes twinkling with warmth.

You took the box from here. "Thank you, really."

Miss Higgins beamed, her eyes warm and kind as she looked at you. "No problem at all, darlin'," she replied, patting you on the shoulder. "I know how much you love my blueberry muffins."

You nodded, tongue tingling at the thought of the taste. "How can I not? Oh, and I brought peaches, I was going to make an ice tea but I didn't have enough of the right tea bags."

Miss Higgins smiled at your words, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, those peaches look mighty delicious," she said, nodding approvingly at the fruit in the basket. "And an ice tea sounds mighty nice, too, but don't sweat it darling."

She patted your shoulder again and then stepped away, saying she had to go find her husband.

You were about to open the muffin box when a hand reached out and took a peach from the basket, the flesh of the peach gleaming in the sunlight.

Your eyes peered up to see a rather sculpted arm, you followed the lean flesh and stared right back at the curly head of hair. "I thought you didn't like peaches?" You asked.

The man turned his head towards you, a smirk on his face as he took a bite of the peach.

"I don't," he replied, his eyes meeting yours, "But I figured it would be impolite not to try something that someone had gone through the effort of providing."

You raised an eyebrow. "Right, and what did you bring?"

The man's smirk widened slightly, his eyes not leaving yours. "Well, sweetheart, I brought the beer, of course." He replied, taking another bite of the peach, the juice glistening on his lips.

That's when you noticed the six pack he was holding, you chose not to dwell on the thought of the veins you saw travelling up his arm. "Real nice of you." You bit, sarcastically.

The man chuckled at your tone, his smirk still firmly in place. He took another bite of the peach, his eyes never leaving yours. "Oh, come now, sweetheart," he said, his voice a touch playful, "Don't be like that.

You should be grateful that your favourite neighbour made an effort."

"I'm forever grateful and is in your debt," You clicked your tongue, while crossing your arms over your chest. "And only one pack?"

The man rolled his eyes, his smirk quickly turning into a full blown grin. "Oh, so you're ungrateful as well as sarcastic," he retorted, his eyes flickering down to your crossed arms, "And yes, only one pack. I can make more trips to my truck if we need more."

You blew out a long breath of air out your nose. "Alright, but at least you brought something so."

"Oh, so now you're giving me the benefit of the doubt, huh?" He said, his voice still playful, "How gracious of you, sweetheart."

You decided you had enough chitchat, so with a flippant roll of the eyes, you spun and walked back to your picnic blanket.

You saw your dad was off by a few of the other men around his age, talking and having beers.

The man watched you walk away, his eyes following your every move. You made your way back to your picnic blanket, noticing that your dad was now chatting and laughing with a few of the other men in the area, beers in hand.

With your dad distracted by the conversation with other men, you decided to take advantage of the moment and slipped off the oversized T-shirt.

Underneath, your skimpy pair of bikini bottoms' fabric clung to your hips and leaving not much to the imagination. You gathered up the T-shirt you had just removed, and placed it on top of your bag.

You grabbed the sunscreen and knelt down on the blanket, beginning to rub the lotion across your bare skin. The sun was hot on your back, and the sunscreen was cool and soothing as you applied it liberally to your body.

You worked the sunscreen into every part of your body you could reach, the lotion quickly heating up from the heat of the sun.

Your eyes wandered around as you noticed some of your neighbours had already jumped in the river, cooling off in the water and splashing each other.

You glanced up just in time to catch a glimpse of muscular biceps and the top of a shaggy head of hair disappearing from view as the man from the peach basket stepped into the water. You found yourself looking longer than necessary, only snapping out of your trance when you heard a rather loud splash of water.

You quickly finished applying the sunscreen and stood up, making your way towards the rocky edge of the river.

The water looked refreshing and invigorating, the sound of laughter and joyous shouting filling the air as people swam and splashed each other.

The cool water felt wonderfully refreshing as you stepped into the river, the water up to your ankles.

You could feel the tenseness of your body begin to ease away, every muscle relaxing as the water soothed and cooled you.

You took a few more steps into the water, letting it rise up to your knees, and splashed some onto your legs. The feeling was heavenly, the cool water a welcome relief from the scorching heat of the sun above.

You waded deeper into the water, the river's current gently slapping against your bare legs. You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, feeling the last remnants of stress leave your body as you continued to wade further in.

You stopped when it was at chest level, before you kicked off the bottom and began to float.

You floated in the water, the river cool and soothing on your skin.

You felt relaxed and at ease as you drifted through the river, the water supporting your body and allowing you to just float lazily for a moment. You closed your eyes, relishing in the peacefulness and quiet of the moment.

The sound of the water lapping around you was lulling, and you could easily have just stayed here, floating in the water indefinitely.

After floating for a few moments, you eventually flipped yourself over and got back onto your feet. The water now came to mid-torso level and you could see some of the other neighbours playing in the river, their splashes sending sprays of water flying.

You glanced sideways, and caught glance of your rude neighbour sitting on a large, flat rock, one leg propped up with his arm resting straight on it, the other bringing a cigarette to his lips. As your eyes connected and his eyes met yours, you felt a jolt of something jump in your chest. His gaze was intense somehow, unwavering as his eyes didn't leave yours, the smoke curling around his face.

For a moment, you were tempted to look away, but there was something about his intense gaze that held you captivated.

You just couldn't seem to tear your eyes away from him, even as he exhaled a puff of smoke. You watched as his free hand fell from his knee and landed on the pack of beer, his palm petting it, bickering you to join him.

You swallowed, wallowing on what to do.You looked over at your dad, seeing he was still busy chatting and laughing with the other men.

A single beer seemed harmless enough, didn't it? And the man was looking at you intently, his eyes urging you to come over to him and join him.

So, you began to trek through the water. Deciding to accept the man's silent invitation, you began to wade your way through the water to where he was sitting.

For some reason, your heart started to beat a little faster and you felt your nerves start to prickle as you splashed your way over to him. You finally reached the rock where the man was lounging, the water coming just under your chest. You looked up at him, his gaze now more intense the closer you got, the smoke from his cigarette still drifting around his face.

"Well don't just stand there."

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of the man's voice, his dark eyes still fixed on yours.

"Come on," he said, gesturing lazily to the space next to him on the rock, "Sit down."

"Geez, alright," you grumbled before moving to sit down next to him, leaving a good distance between the two of you. Your eyebrows shot up when he carelessly placed his towel, slightly damp, onto your lap. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

He popped out a bottle of beer for you, the condensation droplets dripping down the neck as he tipped it in your direction. The man reached out and grabbed a bottle of beer from the pack, the condensation running down the neck as he extended it towards you.

"Here," he said, the slightest hint of a smirk on his face, "For you."

You took the bottle of beer from his hand, your fingers brushing against his slightly as you did so. His touch was calloused and rough, but it sent a strange spark through your hand as you took the cold glass from him. "Thank you."

"No problem," he replied with a shrug, his eyes moving up and down your body, taking in your skimpy bikini. He quickly shoved his cigarette back between his lips, while mumbling a quiet "Fuck."

You brought the bottle to your lips and tipped it back, letting the malty liquid wash over your tongue. You took a slow and steady sip of the beer, the cold liquid washing over your tongue and leaving a smooth, malty taste in your mouth.

The man watched you intently as you drank, his eyes trailing over your body.

You brought the bottle away from your lips, seeing that he only ever took one out, which was the one you held. "You want a sip? I don't backwash or anything."

The man raised an eyebrow at your offer, a small smirk coming onto his face.

"Oh, so now you're offering to share, huh?" he asked, his eyes flickering between the beer in your hand and your face. "You're being awfully kind all of a sudden."

You shrugged. "You would have realised im always kind, but that kindness does get tested every now and then."

The man smirked, while taking the bottle from you. "You don't say."

He took the bottle of beer from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours once again. He took a long swig, the muscles in his throat moving as he drank. Then he pulled the bottle away, his lips smacking together slightly.

You noticed a frothy droplet slip from his lips and run down his jaw, your hand shooting out to wipe it before it contracted like it stung. "Sorry, you just spilt some."

The man's eyes widened slightly as your hand shot out and wiped his chin, the unexpected touch sending an electric shiver down his spine. He quickly recovered, however, and shrugged nonchalantly. "No big deal," he said, his voice rough and gruff, "I'm not that picky about a little spilled beer."

You frowned. "Yeah, but then it will dry up and be sticky. It's gross." You told him.

The man chuckled, amused by your concern over such a minor thing. "You think I care about a little bit of beer on my beard?" he asked, his tone slightly mocking, "I'll just wash it off later."

You rolled your eyes, wiping the beer off your fingers. "Just trynna help."

The man smirked at your eye roll, clearly enjoying your snarky attitude. "Oh, I'm sure you were," he said, his tone dripping with condescension, "And believe me, sweetheart, I really, really appreciate all your help."

Your eyes narrowed as you picked up on the tone of his voice, the mocking and teasing edge to it grating on you slightly.

You could feel your irritation starting to rise. "You're welcome," you replied with a forced sweetness in your voice, "I just couldn't bear the thought of you being sticky due to that spilled beer. Truly a tragedy."

"Oh, I'm sure you're just the picture of concern and charity," he said, his eyes fixed on your face, his expression smug. "But really, you don't have to worry about me, sweetheart. I can take care of myself." You chose not to comment on anything, instead sticking your hand out for the beer again.

The man handed you the bottle of beer back, his eyes still fixed on yours. This time, the smirk on his face had turned into more of a small smile, one that wasn't quite as condescending.

You took the bottle from him, your fingers brushing against his once again. His touch was still rough and calloused, but this time, the feeling didn't feel quite as foreign.

You tilted the bottle back, taking another swallow of the cold beer, the cool liquid washing over your tongue. The man continued to watch you, his eyes still fixed on your face, but now with a hint of curiosity in them.

"You're staring." You pointed out, placing the bottle next to you. The man raised an eyebrow at your comment, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"And?" he said, his voice gruff and rough, "Can't help it if you're worth looking at, sweetheart."

Your cheeks flushed slightly at his comment, the unexpected compliment catching you off guard. You tried to play it cool, however, and just rolled your eyes. "Don't let my Pa catch you saying that."

The man rolled his eyes in response to your comment, his smile still playing at the corners of his lips. "Your Pa?" he asked, a hint of mockery in his voice, "And why would I be worried about him? Does he have a shotgun or something?"

"Or something." You shot back.

The man cocked an eyebrow at your vague response, his expression now a mixture of amusement and a hint of curiosity. ''Or something, huh?" he repeated, a small scoff escaping his lips, "Sounds like your Pa's a real charmer."

You bristled at his sarcastic remark, your irritation rising once again. But you tried to keep your cool, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing that he was getting under your skin.

"My Pa's just protective," you said, your voice a touch defensive, "He's a good guy, just looks out for me."

The man smirked once again, clearly enjoying your defensive response. "Oh, I'm sure he's a regular knight in shining armor," he said mockingly, "No one's allowed near his little girl, right?"

You clicked your tongue. "Care to find out?"

The man chuckled, the challenge in your voice piqued his interest. "Are you threatening me, sweetheart?" he asked, his smirk growing wider, "I doubt your Pa would approve of you getting all worked up over me."

You clenched your jaw, your irritation now at its peak. But you tried to stay calm, not wanting to give him any more satisfaction. "I'm not worked up," you retorted, your voice cool and calculated, "And I'm just saying, my Pa wouldn't like it if you said something inappropriate to me."

He feigned a sad face. "But would you?" The man adopted a mock-pouting expression, his smirk turning into a small frown. "Oh, come on now sweetheart" he said, his voice dripping with false innocence, "You wouldn't rat me out to your Pa, would you? I thought we were gettin' along so well."

You rolled your eyes at his over-the-top behaviour, the irritation from before slowly fading. You couldn't help but find it slightly amusing, despite your best efforts.

"Don't count on it," you replied, your voice slightly less cool than before, "'m not a snitch, but if you don't behave, I might change my mind."

He threw his hands up in defense. "Okay, missy. I'll be on my bestest behaviour, l promise."

You couldn't help but snort at his exaggerated apology, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Your bestest behaviour, huh?" you asked, your voice laced with mild sarcasm, "That's reassuring."

The man shrugged, the smirk on his face returning "What can I say?" he said, a hint of mock-innocence in his voice, "I'm a changed man. I'm trying to be good now, really."

You shook your head. "You're real funny, mister.

He chuckled at your reaction, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth banter. "I'm glad you think so, sweetheart," he said, his tone slightly mocking, "Being funny is one of my many, many talents."

"Yeah? And what are your others?" You almost regret asking that question when you saw a devious glint in his eyes.

Almost.

The man's smirk grew wider, his gaze now fixed intently on your face. "Oh, sweetheart..." he drawled, his voice low and suggestive, "That's a very dangerous question to ask me, you know."

You raised an eyebrow. "I don't know."

The man was clearly enjoying your feigned ignorance. "Trust me," he said, his voice dripping with innuendo, "There are lots of things I could tell you that I'm talented at. But I don't think your innocent ears could handle it, sweetheart."

"Innocent?" The word tumbled from your lips, you snapping them shut after, embarrassed.

The man's smirk turned into a full-blown grin as you blurted out the word. He clearly enjoyed seeing your embarrassed reaction and couldn't help but tease you. "Yeah, sweetheart," he said, his voice silky smooth, "You look like a sweet, innocent little thing. But I bet you've got a bit of a dirty side to you, don't you?"

You shook your head. "No...l don't know what you're talking about."

The man raised an eyebrow at your denial, clearly not buying it for a second. "Really?" he said, his tone laced with mockery, "You're telling me you're as pure as freshly fallen snow? Not one dirty thought has ever crossed that pretty little head of yours?"

You licked your lips. If only he knew, like actually knew. "No?"

The man's eyes followed the movement of your tongue as you licked your lips, his smirk growing wider as he noticed your slight hesitation. "No?" He repeated. "You really expect me to believe that, sweetheart? A cute little thing like you?" 

You said a bit more defiantly, "I don't have those thoughts."

The man chuckled outright at your response, clearly not believing you. "Oh, really?" he asked, his tone teasing, "Not even once? Never had a naughty dream or anything?"

You shook your head, fingers reaching for the beer bottle again.

He beat you to it and snatched the bottle up. "Alright, if you say so, but know you're a terrible liar, sweetheart," he said, his voice now laced with amusement, "But I'll play along if you want. I'll pretend to believe that you're pure as the driven snow, alright?"

You eyed the beer bottle, you just wanted something to wash away your thoughts.

He noticed the way you were eyeing the beer. "You want it back, huh?" He asked, his tone teasing, "But I don't know if I should give it to you. You seem a bit on edge, sweetheart. You know what they say about alcohol and emotions."

Your eyelid twitched, you didn't say anything as you feared it would be something harsh and brazen.

The man laughed heartily, clearly enjoying getting under your skin. "Oh, sweetheart," he said, his tone condescending, "Don't go all quiet on me now. You were so mouthy just a minute ago."

You swallowed. "Can I just have the beer?"

"Sure, you can have the beer, sweetheart," he said, his tone light and playful. "But only if you agree to tell me one honest truth, no matter what it is."

Your jaw clenched, no, you weren't not eager to have beer, your dad had brought some, but... actually you couldn't explain why you continued to play the game. "What?"

The man's smile turned wolfish as he saw your hesitation.

"Just a simple question, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and enticing, "And I promise I won't judge you, no matter what your answer is. I just wanna know something about you."

Your heart started beating a little faster.

You knew his "simple question" wasn't going to be so simple after all. But you were still intrigued, and a strange mix of curiosity and nerves compelled you to agree. "Alright," you said, your voice sounding more confident than you felt, "I'll bite."

The man smirked, clearly pleased with your compliance.

"That's the spirit, sweetheart," he said, his voice sultry and alluring, "I knew you weren't a total goody two-shoes. Now, here's my little 'honest truth' question for you, and I think you know what it is," he paused, his gaze raking over your face again. You braced yourself, unsure of what was coming next. "Have you never had a naughty dream about a man?" He finally asked, his tone a velvet-covered dagger.

You swallowed, turning your gaze back to the river. You were an adult, it wasn't uncommon for these thoughts to happen, but they felt wrong, this felt wrong. So, with a meek voice, you mumbled a "No."

The man's smirk widened into a sly grin as you muttered your answer.

"Oh, really?" he purred, his tone dripping with smugness, "And who is this dream man, sweetheart? Is it someone I know?"

You clicked your tongue. "Like you know anybody."

"Oh, I know people, sweetheart," he said, his tone oozing with confidence, "I know lots of people. So, who is he? Is it someone from your little town here? Some boy who's just dying to take you to a Sunday picnic?"

"You've asked your question now give me the beer."

The man chuckled again, his smirk never leaving his face. "Alright, alright, sweetheart," he said, holding out the beer to you, "I suppose I did say l'd give it to you if you answered honestly. Here you go."

You took the beer from him, your fingers brushing against his rough ones again. The now-familiar sensation sent tingles up your arms, but you tried to ignore it.

"There," he said, his smug smile still on his lips, "I held up my end of the deal. Now I'm gonna ask you another question, sweetheart."

You shook your head. "Nah, enough about me. What about you? You have any...sinful thoughts?"

"Sinful thoughts?" He repeated, his voice a low drawl, "Oh, sweet thing, l've got more sinful thoughts than you could ever imagine."

You swallowed, his response sending a shiver up your spine. His words were cocky and full of bravado, but there was a hint of truth behind them that made your heart flutter. "Like what?" You asked, your voice a little breathier than you'd liked.

He licked his top row of teeth, it was almost too easy, you were almost too easy. He couldn't compare you to anything other than a lamp trapped by a pack of wolves.

With a sly smile, he leaned in closer to you, his voice lowering to a low, sultry whisper. "Like, maybe, what it would be like to have those sweet, pretty lips of yours pressed against mine..."

You gasped, the beer bottle slipping from your grasp.

The man's quick reflexes kicked in, and he reached out to catch the bottle before it hit the ground. "Careful there, sweetheart," he said, the corners of his lips tugged into a smirk, “Wouldn't want to waste all that beer. That would be a real shame."

You blinked, hard. "I—| gotta go, it was nice talking to you, uh, what's your name?" You asked, hazardously standing up.

The man chuckled, clearly amused by your flustered state. He stood up as well, towering over you, his smirk never leaving his face.

"The name's Patrick, sweetheart," he replied, his voice still low and sultry, "But you can call me Pat, or whatever you like."

You quickly told him your name before staggering off.

Patrick watched as you stumbled off, a bemused expression on his face. Your hasty exit clearly didn't dampen his spirits. In fact, he found your awkward retreat rather endearing.

"See ya later, sweetheart." He called after you, a hint of mockery in his voice.

You had to get out of there. Your skin was heating up and it wasn't because of the sun, and your bikini bottom was wet and you knew it wasn't just water. You almost crashed into the water as you threw some on your face.

As you splashed the cool water, your mind was still racing, filled with thoughts of the man you had just encountered. You tried to push the sensations of your body out of your mind, but it was a futile endeavor.

As you looked back towards the spot where you had been sitting, you saw Patrick watching you from a distance, his smirk ever present on his face.

You quickly whipped your head back to stare at the rippling water.

You were fucked.

Beyond fucked.

He was almost double your age yet you couldn't help but be drawn to him, if only you knew...

[ NEXT ]

[afterthelambs]

This trio is aggressively y2k. Good thing they all died within the decade because I cant imagine them past the 2000s, they all have nokia fliphone face

[liquidstar]

look this site really is awful for ppl with OCD so i just wanna reassure anyone that you are not Tainted Forever for consuming a piece of media with questionable content. the fact that youre able to recognize it speaks to your critical thinking skills, which is good, certain depictions should be critiqued. but you dont need to ruminate on it to the point where you begin to feel guilty for simply witnessing gross or creepy writing choices. you dont have to vindicate yourself to the fictional tumblr discourser inside your head, saying that youre now a bad person bc you watched the wrong anime. your actual response to it still matters of course, but thats that and this is this. just seeing it is neutral, you didnt commit a thought crime. its literally fine.

IF YOU ARE USING THIS POST TO ONLY FURTHER YOUR STUPID PEDANTIC BLACK-AND-WHITE DISCOURSE TO GET A "GOCHA" OVER THE OTHER SIDE YOU ARE THE PROBLEM. DON'T USE OUR DISORDER TO VINDICATE YOUR BEHAVIOR. THOUGHT CRIMES ARENT REAL BUT ACTIONS STILL MATTER. PEOPLE WITH OCD ARE CAPABLE OF THINKING CRITICALLY ABOUT OUR ACTIONS AND RESPONSES, EVEN WITH INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS AND RUMINATIONS. TREATING US AS IF WE CANNOT, ONLY TO FORCE US TO USE YOUR STRINGENT UNNUANCED DISCOURSE OPINIONS ABOUT "PURITY CULTURE" (TRIGGERING TO THOSE WITH OCD) AS THE ONLY REASONABLE GUIDE DOES MORE TO EXACERBATE OUR OBSESSIONS THAN HELP US. YOU ARE THE ISSUE AS WELL. YOU ARE ALSO THE TUMBLR DISCOURSER INSIDE OUR HEADS. DO NOT USE US FOR YOUR DISCOURSE. WE ARE PEOPLE, NOT HYPOTHETICALS TO USE TO EXPLAIN IF YOUR FROZEN INCEST FANFICTION IS OKAY OR NOT. TREATING US AS IF WE CANNOT AUTONOMOUSLY HAVE OUR OWN OPINIONS ON WHEN MEDIA IS TANGIBLY HARMFUL IS ABLEIST. FORCING US TO ABIDE BY YOUR IN-GROUP'S SET OF UNEQUIVOCAL MORALS IS ABLEIST. ACTING AS THOUGH THE ONLY SOLUTION FOR US IS MINDLESS MEDIA CONSUMPTION IN WHICH "EVERY DEPICTION OF XYZ, NO MATTER HOW POORLY DONE OR EXPLOITATIVE, IS ALWAYS OKAY AND IF YOU DISAGREE YOURE ACTUALLY AN EVIL 'ANTI'" IS ABLEIST. THOSE ARE THE SAME BLACK-AND-WHITE MORALS THAT SEND US INTO OBSESSIVE SPIKES, BUT FLIPPED. A SET OF MORALS IN WHICH QUESTIONING THE IMPACT OF A PIECE OF WORK MAKES YOU AN "EVIL CONSERVATIVE PURITAN "ANTI"" DOES NOT HELP MORAL OCD.

YOU ARE THE DAMN TUMBLR DISCOUERSERS MAKING THIS SHIT WORSE FOR US! YOURE THE EXACT SAME BUT WITH FLIPPED BUZZWORDS! YOU'RE MISSING THE WHOLE DAMN POINT!

[nuzzle]

baby, the stars shine bright ࿐✩.˚ 「love♡love♡くみゃちゃん」シリーズ

[eroticlamb]

Twin Peaks, 1990 ୨ৎ Directed by David Lynch

[strawberryteabunny]

package arrived ☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა

[bitcheslovemi]

[starchilds]

@p3girlsweek day 4: fashion

do you think she's spent strega's entire wallet on btssb and angelic pretty

[lavendorium]

🖤𝕭𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖍𝖉𝖆𝖞 𝖈𝖔𝖔𝖗𝖉🖤

🥀𝕺𝕻/𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 - 𝕸𝖊𝖙𝖆 🥀𝕾𝖍𝖔𝖊𝖘 - 𝕭𝖔𝖉𝖞𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖊 🥀𝕹𝖊𝖈𝖐𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖊 - 𝕹𝖊𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝕲𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖘

[j-fashion-wearer-otd]

Today's J-fashion wearer is Luluna from Kiratto PriChan! She wears lolita!

[gabgabwrites]

LOLITA | Patrick Zweig

3 -> RECKLESS

summary ⇝ it turns out you aren’t the only one slowly unraveling because of this growing tension, and like a moth to a flame you always manage to seek out what’s wrong for you— Patrick, and this doesn’t go unnoticed.

warnings ⇝ language, sexual innuendo, semi-sexual content, jerking off, creepy Patrick again coz he’s a schlut, an almost kiss! and a wee bit of thumb sucking.

You thought you were the only one affected by your interactions. For you, it was somewhat fine feeling things for an older man, but for Patrick? Having debauched and inappropriate thoughts on a woman who was almost half his age? It was downright sinful.

Patrick felt like a pervert. He was disgusted himself, and it was embarrassing, but he almost didn't care.

Patrick stood by his window, his hand moving rhythmically around his achy cock as he watched you read under the sun's gentle glow. The sight of you, seemingly unaware of the effect you were having on him, was beyond irresistible.

You weren't even doing anything provocative, just sitting on your porch, flipping pages of your book.

Maybe that was what wrecked Patrick, your innocence in nature (albeit the number of inappropriate thoughts you'd had yourself)

Patrick grunted as he increased the speed of his hand, the sight of you engrossed in your book only fueling his fantasy. He had no intention of leaving the privacy of his room. He knew if he were to go out there, he might be tempted to do something he shouldn't.

Something he would likely regret.

With an audible sigh, Patrick let go of himself and grabbed his boxers, tugging them on under his sweats. His mind was a mixture of arousal and shame. He felt disgusted with himself for lusting after you, for giving into fantasies that were clearly not appropriate, and he couldn't shake the feeling. He grabbed his keys and stepped out his trailer. He needed a walk.

A long, fucking walk.

Patrick stomped down the gravel path, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He tried to focus on the crunch of his feet against the ground, but his mind kept wandering back to you.

He knew he had to find a way to get you out of his head, to purge these thoughts he was having. But as he walked, he realised something. Each step he took only brought him closer to your home.

You heard the sound of footsteps approaching and looked up. "Oh, hey Patrick." You gave him a small wave, this was the first time you'd seen him after that moment by the river and it was the first time you said his name.

Patrick froze in his tracks when he heard your voice. The sound of his name coming from your lips had an unexpected effect on him. It was like a jolt of electricity to his system.

"Oh, uh, hey," he managed to say, his usual smooth demeanor slightly shaky. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to act casually. "Didn't expect to see you here."

You raised an eyebrow. "Outside my home?"

Patrick felt foolish, realizing the absurdity of his statement. He cleared his throat, trying to cover up his embarrassment.

"Right, right," he said, forcing a chuckle. "I guess that was a bit of a silly thing to say." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling uncharacteristically awkward in your presence.

You sucked your teeth. “Where you heading off to? Seemed like you were going somewhere."

Patrick shrugged, trying to regain his composure. "Nah, just taking a walk, needed some air," he said, his tone back to its usual casual lilt. He glanced around, as if looking for an escape route. "You, uh, reading something interesting?"

You looked at your book. "Just Sylvia Plath," you shrugged. "What'd you need air for? It's a bit cooler today."

Patrick nodded, noticing that the late-afternoon sun was no longer as brutal as it had been. "Yeah, guess it's not so bad now," he grumbled. "I was just feeling a bit cooped up in my trailer, needed to stretch my legs."

He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to appear nonchalant. After a moment of silence, he glanced at you again, his gaze lingering on your face.

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. "You... uh, want to walk around together? Just for a bit," he quickly added, "No pressure, of course."

Your eyebrows jumped up. "You wouldn't mind?"

Patrick shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Nah, don't mind at all. Like I said, just didn't wanna be cooped up any longer,” he started walking again, gesturing for you to join him. "C'mon, girl, let's go."

You gently shut the book and placed it off ok the top stair before standing up and following after Patrick. Patrick's stride slowed a bit to match your pace as you walked alongside him.

He could feel your presence next to him, and it made his heart beat a little faster. Trying to keep up conversation, he cleared his throat and asked, "So, what do you do with yourself around here when you're not reading?" His tone was casual, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes as he glanced at you briefly.

"Garden," you shrug. "Sometimes I walk to the river, if it's hot out, I swim."

Patrick nodded, impressed by your list of activities. "That's nice. You enjoy nature, huh?" He asked, a faint smile playing on his lips. His eyes darted to your figure, and he tried to keep his gaze from lingering too much. You happily nod.

As the two of you continued walking, Patrick felt his tension loosen a bit. There was something about being next to you that made him feel more at ease. He took in the sights and sounds of the late afternoon - the sun casting long shadows among the trees, birds singing their evening songs, and the smell of fresh earth mixed with the scent of your skin.

"You ever think about leaving this place?" Patrick asked suddenly, surprising even himself with the question. "I mean, it's pretty secluded here. Don't you get bored?" He snuck another glance at you, eager to hear your answer.

"Yeah, sometimes. I'd want to go visit big cities where's there's fancy things, or go to some tropical country to see beaches and forests and more animals than cats and chickens."

Patrick nodded in agreement. "Oh, yeah, I get what you mean. Sometimes I dream of getting out of here too, see the world," he said, his voice a bit wistful. "Big cities, beaches, forests - all that sounds nice. Maybe someday,” he paused for a moment, considering you. "When you do leave," he asked, his eyes holding yours, "What'll you miss most?"

"Well, my Pa if he ain't coming with, but I think I'll miss the closeness. I know some people hate living in small towns but I like it."

Patrick nodded again, understanding your perspective. "Your ‘Pa’, of course," he mumbled, more so to himself. "How about your dad, is he the only family you got?"

Your steps seem to falter. "No." You told him quietly.

Patrick noticed your hesitation and the change in your voice. Realizing he'd touched a sensitive subject, he backpedaled quickly.

"Shit sorry, sweetheart, didn't mean to pry," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "None of my business, really. You don't have to tell me anything."

You shook your head. "How about I tell you my family and you tell me yours? Deal?"

Patrick raised an eyebrow but nodded, intrigued by the proposal. "Alright, deal." He agreed, his curiosity piqued. "You go first."

You took in a breath. "My Pa is the only family that lives with me. I have a brother who stays out in the north, he lives in the city and sometimes comes down every July and sometimes December. He comes down for Christmas. He'll be down here in two weeks for the Fourth of July— we have a community dinner, here at the park. I have a few family overseas but we only get Christmas cards. That's about it."

Patrick listened intently, he noticed a hint of sadness in your eyes when you mentioned your brother and distant family members, but he didn't press the issue, respecting your privacy.

After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat and shifted his weight. "Alright," he said, meeting your gaze. "I suppose I have to uphold my end of the bargain now, huh?"

You nod, waiting for him to continue.

Patrick took a deep breath, his usual cool and aloof demeanor taking a backseat for a moment. "Well," he began, "my family's a bit more complicated. Got a mom and a dad. My mom left when I was about seven, and my dad, well, he was... not the greatest," he paused, his eyes drifting away from yours as he recalled difficult memories. "I guess you could say me and my family don't really get along much," he finished with a shrug, feigning nonchalance. "So it's just me."

You looked over at him. "I'm sorry about that, but see, you've turned out to be a strong man. Character development."

Patrick snorted softly at your attempt to make light of the situation. "Character development?" He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "I guess that's one way to look at it,” his expression turning slightly more serious. "To be honest, it was tough growing up like that, always feeling like I was on my own. But I think it helped me become who I am today, in a way."

You nod. "If need be, you have me. I know we have our differences and we can... argue, but I'll always be here." Patrick was caught off guard by your words. He hadn't expected such a heartfelt offer of support from you. The sincerity in your eyes touched him, and he found himself momentarily speechless. He simply nodded, letting the weight of your words sink in.

After a beat, he replied, "Thanks, I... appreciate that,” his tone was softer than usual, his tough facade momentarily melted. "It's not easy to find people who really have your back these days." He looked at you, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer.

You could see the almost green flecks in his eyes, and the discoloured hairs in his beard, and his strong nose. He was attractive, but he was almost intangible.

You shouldn't want him, but you did. You just bit your lip and turned your face away. "You down for a swim?"

Patrick noticed the way you averted your gaze, the subtle flush on your cheeks. But he didn't comment on it, instead seizing upon the offer of a swim. "A swim? Yeah, I'm down," he said, his usual grin returning to his face. "Sounds like a great way to cool off on this day." So, for the rest of the walk, you stayed silent. You walked back to the river, where it was quiet and almost still, no movement.

As Patrick and you reached the river's edge, the stillness of the water matched the mood of the moment. Neither of you spoke, the silence hanging in the air like a delicate balance.

Patrick stole a glance at you as he took off his shoes and socks. He couldn't help but admire your figure as you slipped off your own sandals and rolled up the cuffs of your dress. The warmth of the evening sunlight made your skin glow.

You walked to the rivers edge and took a step in, the water seeping into the bottom of your dress. You looked down, seeing the mud lifted, staining your dress as well. You chewed on your bottom lip, you didn't want to get your dress dirty any further.

Patrick couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of you hesitating at the water's edge, worried about your dress getting muddy.

"Oh, come on," he called out to you, his voice light and teasing. "It's just a little bit of mud. And besides, that dress doesn't scream 'river-friendly' anyway." He smirked, trying to goad you into getting fully in.

You shot him a look, before grabbing your dress and marching into the water, the light fabric flowing in the water.

"There you go," he said as you reached deeper into the river. "Was that so hard?" He moved a few steps closer, the cool water caressing his skin, feeling refreshing under the hot sun.

"Shut up." You grumbled, walking deeper into the water.

Patrick grinned at your grumbled response, clearly enjoying being able to tease you. As you ventured further into the river, the hem of your dress billowing around your legs, he couldn't help but notice the way it clung to your curves.

"You know, if you're that bothered about your dress, there's always the option of taking it off.” He suggested, his tone casual, but his eyes gleaming with devilish intent.

You shot him a scowl, though the blush on your cheeks slightly gave away your embarrassment.

"Ha, very funny," you retorted, but there was a hint of playfulness in your voice. "I think I'll stick to keeping my dress on, thank you very much." Despite your dismissive tone, the suggestion lingered in your mind, a thought you tried to push away as quickly as it had come.

He moved even closer, the water now reaching his chest. "Suit yourself," he said with a shrug, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He let the words hang in the air before grinning widely. "I'm kidding, by the way. Mostly."

You shook your head before taking in deep breath and dropping yourself, submerging yourself into the cool water. Patrick waited a few seconds before following suit, submerging himself as well.

The cool water felt refreshing against his skin and he relished in the feeling for a moment before resurfacing, a wide grin on his face. He rubbed his wet hair back with his hand and glanced over at you.

"Feeling better now?" He asked, his tone light and playful.

You emerged from the water, your wet hair plastered to your face, looking more like you'd just gotten out of a shower rather than gone swimming. "Much better," you answered, laughing a little. Then you narrowed your gaze as you saw him smirking, before splashing him in retaliation. "You think you're really funny, huh?"

Patrick mocked an outrage as the water hit him, his expression turning to one of feigned offense. "Well, that's just rude," he said, wiping his face with his hand. But the corners of his mouth turned up in a smirk, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. "You started this, you know. I think I'm gonna have to splash you back now." He started to slowly move toward you, cupping water in his hands with each step.

"Hey, hey, old man. You're gonna pop out a bone." You shrieked when water hit you on the cheek.

Patrick grinned, enjoying your reaction. "Oh, don't you 'old man' me," he retorted, stepping even closer, cupping as much water as he could in his hands. "I'll show you what an old man can do." With that, he flung the water at you, aiming for your face again.

You giggled, hitting the water's surface and sending droplets spraying his way. Patrick was surprised by your quick counterattack, but he couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh, so you wanna play it like that, huh?" he challenged, scooping up more water and launching it at you. A water fight began, with laughs and splashes filling the air as the two of you tried to soak each other.

"It's no fair, you have big hands so you can splash more water." You frown, trying to splash him back.

"Life's not fair, sweetheart," he taunted with a smirk. "Big hands, more water, it's basic science."

"I’ll show you basic science." You grumbled before you cut through the water, stopping right in front of him before scooping up water and drenching him.

Patrick was caught off guard by your sudden move, his eyes widening as you drenched him with a massive splash of water. He sputtered a bit, his wet hair plastered to his face, but a grin quickly spread across his lips. He shook his head, sending water flying every which way, before retaliating with another well-aimed splash at you. "Well played," he said, his voice husky with a mixture of amusement and admiration. "You're full of surprises today."

You laughed, feeling proud of yourself for managing to soak him as much as you had. You continued to splash each other, the water fight escalating as you both tried to outdo each other with bigger and more strategic splashes. It was childish, but immensely fun, and you couldn't remember the last time you'd laughed like this.

The sun started to set, casting a warm glow over the river and the surrounding nature. It was a beautiful backdrop for this playful chaos.

As your arms lifted to splash him, Patrick suddenly grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer to him. Your breath hitched for a moment as you were suddenly so close to him, the water gently lapping around your legs.

You both stood there, water droplets glistening on your skin, the playful atmosphere replaced with something more... charged. Patrick gazed at you, his eyes taking in your features, the fading sunlight adding a warm glow to your face. He didn't say anything, the only sound between you being the gentle flow of the river.

Your hands landed on his chest, feeling the soft skin and hair, and strong muscle under your touch, your fingers unconsciously flexing against it all.

Patrick felt the sensation of your hands, the touch sending a jolt of energy through him. He swallowed, the air between you two now thick with tension.

His eyes locked onto yours, his gaze intense and searching. The silence was heavy, broken only by the distant chirping of birds and the sound of the water lapping around your legs.

Patrick's hand still held your wrist, his thumb absently moving along your pulse point.

Your eyes watched a water droplet dribble from his nose and run down his pink lips, they were so close you could see the wrinkles.

Patrick could feel the heat between you both, the air practically crackling with electricity.

Slowly, his hand moved from your wrist to your hand, his fingers gently lacing with yours. All the while, his eyes remained locked on yours, his expression softening. There was something so raw and intimate about this moment, with the sun setting behind you and the water softly flowing around your bodies.

You don't know when you two moved closer, breathing in the same air. The tip of his nose brushing yours. This was wrong, entirely wrong, this man was only a few years younger than your dad but it just felt right.

You blinked, unmoving but murmured."This is wrong."

Patrick's eyes remained locked on yours, his heart beating wildly in his chest. This was a crossing over a line, he knew it, you knew it. But there was something magnetizing about you, something that made him feel more alive than he had in years.

He whispered back, his voice barely audible over the sounds of nature. "I know... but it feels... right." His hand tightened slightly around yours, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

Your eyes fluttered shut when he softly caressed your cheek with his rough, calloused hand, the warmth of the touch in stark contrast to the cool evening air. His thumb gently traced the line of your bottom lip, the touch sending a shiver down your spine.

His other hand moved to the small of your back, drawing you closer to him, closing the last bit of distance between you. Your bodies were pressed together, the only thing separating you being the thin, damp fabric of your dress.

He swore under his breath when he felt a warmth's against his thump as you sucked the digit between your lips. Patrick couldn't suppress a soft curse as he felt your lips close around his thumb.

The gesture was both innocent and sinful at the same time. He inhaled sharply, the sight and sensation sending a jolt through him.

He watched your face, his heart pounding in his chest, eyes dark and hooded with desire. The moment hung heavy between you, filled with unsaid words and stolen breaths.

Your tongue swirled around the pad of his thumb, this action far more ambitious than what you'd do, ever.

Patrick's eyes darkened. The sight of you, so innocently but so brazenly touching him, was almost too much to bear.

He let out a ragged breath, his free hand gripping onto your hip, his fingers digging into the delicate fabric of your dress. His eyes were locked onto your mouth, his gaze filled with a mixture of surprise and pure, primal desire.

You let out a whimper at his touch, in pain and pleasure. Patrick felt the whimper against his thumb, his grip on your hip tightening instinctively in response. He leaned in closer, his lips almost but not quite touching yours. His breath was hot against your face as he whispered, his voice thick with lust, "You have no idea what you're doing to me, do you?"

Your eyes blinked open.Patrick looked into your eyes, the darkness of your dilated pupils reflecting his own desire. He took a moment to memorize your face, the flush on your cheeks, the slight parted lips around his thumb.

And then, almost painstakingly slowly, he pulled his thumb from your lips, the action making a small, wet popping sound. He didn't break eye contact, his gaze filled with an intense hunger that was now impossible to ignore.

"Patrick, I—." You began, voice laced with want, when a loud, roaring voice called your name.

It was enough to have you snap back to reality, heart plummeting and hands tremble. Your head whipped to the side and there stood your dad, angry and heaving, staring you two down.

Patrick seemed to break out of a trance too, his eyes widening slightly as he followed your gaze to where your dad stood. The air suddenly felt cold around them, the moment broken by the harsh sound of your father's voice.

Patrick didn't move, his hand still on your hip, eyes locked on your dad. He knew how this looked, how very damning this situation seemed. But he couldn't bring himself to move away yet, still feeling the remnants of that heated moment between you.

"Get here. Now!" Your dad barked. He must've come back from work a few minutes ago and went looking for you.

You swallowed, and jumped back from Patrick. Patrick let his hand fall from your hip reluctantly as you pulled away. His expression hardened as he turned to face your dad, the tension palpable in the air. He was acutely aware of how this must look, a man his age caught in an intimate moment with a girl in her twenties.

He didn't say anything, just met your dad's angry glare with a steady gaze of his own, shoulders squared and hands by his sides.

You stayed quiet, feeling guilt and worry gnaw at you like wild fire. Hurriedly you began to wade through the water, shivering at the coldness as you approached your dad. "Pa..." you mumbled.

You could feel your dad's anger radiating off of him in waves. The scowl on his face deepened as you approached, his eyes filled with a mix of disappointment and frustration. You shivered slightly, whether from the chill of the water clinging to your dress or the tension in the air, you couldn't be sure.

You opened your mouth to speak, unsure of what to say. But before you could utter a word, your dad cut you off.

"Don't even start. Get in the car." He snapped, his voice gruff and leaving no room for negotiation. The tone was one you knew all too well, a signal that he wouldn't tolerate any excuses or pleas for forgiveness right now.

Your mouth snapped shut, you looked over your shoulder, at Patrick, before sulking to your dad's truck.

Patrick watched as you stepped out of the river, your soaked dress clinging to your body, and then walked slowly towards your dad's truck, the tension palpable in the air. His heart ached for you, knowing the storm you were walking into. But there was nothing he could do to soften the blow, to change the reality of the situation.

He stayed by the river, the cold water lapping at his legs, as he watched you get into the truck with your dad, the rumble of the engine starting up breaking through the silence.

In the car, you just fidgeted with your fingers, your dad didn't care if his truck got wet, that wasn't a priority. "Pa." You called out softly.

Your dad said nothing as he drove, his jaw clenched and eyes fixed on the road. The silence was tense, the air between you heavy with unspoken words. As you fidgeted with your fingers, the wet fabric of your dress sticking to your skin, you took a deep breath before whispering your dad's name.

He didn't look at you, but you could see him tense up even more, if that was even possible. The only sound was the hum of the engine and the occasional chirping of crickets outside. He seemed to be holding his tongue, maybe waiting for what you had to say, or just mustering up the right words for the scolding you were about to get.

"Pa, please? I-I know how it looked..."

Your dad let out a deep sigh as you spoke. He was silent for a moment, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

Finally, he spoke, his voice a little softer than before, but still laced with frustration and sternness.

"You know how it looked? This isn't just about how it looked. It's about what it was. What were you thinking?" His eyes flickered to you for a brief moment before returning to the road. "You know better."

"I know, I know. And I'm sorry."

Your dad took another deep breath, his anger dissipating slightly. He glanced at you again, his gaze softer now. "Look," he said, his voice gentler. "I appreciate your apology. But this isn't just about apologies. It's about making smart choices, about being responsible.You need to think before you act, especially when you're around...older men."

He paused, his jaw tightening as if he were struggling with the right words.

"I know you're an adult now, and you have rights and freedoms. But you're also my daughter, and my job, my duty, is to protect you. I only want what's best for you. And this..." He gestured vaguely, making it clear what he meant. "... this is not it."

"He-Patrick didn't do anything wrong. It was me, I was the one that tried to kiss him." You saw your dad cringe at your words.

Your dad made a face at your confession, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. He exhaled deeply, shaking his head as he spoke.

"You think that's any better? I don't give a damn who initiated what. This man is too old, and you're too young. End of discussion,” his words were firm, leaving no room for argument. He stammered briefly, his expression softening a bit."Just want you to be careful, kid. You're too sweet, too trusting. Not everyone has your best interests at heart."

The rest of the drive was mostly silent, the tension between you and your dad still palpable. You could feel the weight of hi concern, his desire to protect you at war with your growing independence.

As the truck rolled to a stop in front of your house, he turned to you, his voice a bit gentler than before.

"We'll talk more inside. But for now, promise me you'll be more careful." His eyes held yours, searching for a sign that you understood.

"He's our neighbour, I can't avoid him." You scoffed. Your response was met with a stern look from your dad. He was resolute on this matter, his protective instincts kicking into full gear.

His words were firm, leaving no room for negotiation. "You will avoid him. You have to. It's for your own good."

There was a finality in his tone that you knew all too well. When your dad spoke like that, it was pointless to argue.

Your mouth fell open, you had never really fought with your dad, not until today. "He won't hurt me. Patrick can be sweet. He can be nice." Can be.

Your dad's eyes flashed as you defended Patrick. He couldn't believe you were trying to justify your actions. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before speaking.

"Patrick is a grown man. He should know better than to... to engage with someone your age. This isn't about him being nice or sweet. It's about what's right, and what's appropriate,” he shook his head, a mix of disappointment and anger on his face. "You don't get it now, but you will. Just trust me, kid. Stay away from him."

You just sighed, fighting with your dad was futile, knowing your dad wouldn't budge on this decision. It was exhausting to argue with him when he was like this, the tension thick between you.

Suddenly, he reached out, his hand on your shoulder. "Look, I'm just trying to protect you. I don't want you to get hurt. You trust me, right?" His eyes searched yours, hoping for a flicker of understanding in them.

You give him a nod. Your nod seemed to reassure him, if only slightly. He squeezed your shoulder and leaned back in his seat, the anger in his eyes softening, replaced by a mix of concern and tiredness.

"Alright. Good. Just... let's get inside, okay? We'll talk things through, get everything settled. You'll see, this is for the best." He gave you a small, albeit weary, smile before opening the door and stepping out.

You sighed, before following suit. You'd known Patrick about two whole weeks and already couldn't see him, it was all so strange yet it upset you.

As you stepped out of the truck and followed your dad into the house, you couldn't shake off the feeling of disappointment.

Two weeks.

That's all you had known Patrick, and now you were to stay away from him. It was frustrating, and yet, you understood your dad's concern. But still, it didn't ease the disappointment you felt.

As the two of you entered the house, the tension subsided a bit. Your dad sat down on the couch, rubbing his forehead with a heavy sigh. He gestured for you to sit down too, a clear signal that the talk was about to start. "You know why it's bad, right?" He asked.

You looked at your dad as he posed the question, the weight of it evident in his tone. You knew where this conversation was headed and nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, Pa. I know why... why it's bad."

Your dad nodded back. "Okay, good. I just don't want you to get caught up in bad things. Grown men want certain things a young woman like you can't give."

Your dad's words were heavy with meaning, and you felt your cheeks heat up slightly at his straightforwardness. You nodded again, quickly. You knew what he meant. The thought of it made you feel naive, young and inexperienced.

"Grown men want a family. They want a wife and kids. Patrick may not be any different, and all these things may not suit you. Look, I don't know how long you two've been..." he took a breath. "But I know it won't turn out well." You swallowed hard as your dad spoke, his words hitting you like a ton of bricks.

He was right; what could Patrick and you ever have? The age gap, the different stages of life, it was too vast to just ignore. Still, it stung to hear it out loud.

"I... I understand, Pa.” You managed to mumble, your voice small. You felt foolish, for even considering that anything could work out.

Your dad seemed to sense your disappointment, the slump in your shoulders. He gave you a small, almost sympathetic smile, before continuing.

"It's not that I don't want you to date, or even marry someday. I do. But I just don't want you to get hurt, emotionally or otherwise, by being swept up in something that isn't right. You have your entire life ahead of you, kid. There are plenty of other fish in the sea, as they say, who are more... appropriate."

You listened to your dad's words, feeling a mix of gratitude for his concern and disappointment for yourself. You knew he was right; it wouldn't be wise to pursue something with such a huge age gap and with someone you barely knew. Still, a small part of you couldn't help hoping for what if. But that was foolish, too.

You mumbled, "I know, Pa. I just... I was intrigued, that's all. But you're right. I'll stay away from him." Your eyes flickered up to meet his, hoping to convey your sincerity.

Your dad gave you a small nod, his stern expression softening slightly. He could see the disappointment in your eyes, but he was pleased that you were being understanding, which was what mattered most.

"Good. I'm glad we're on the same page.This is for your own good, understand?" He waited for your agreement, his tone gentle but firm.

You nodded again, a bit more enthusiastically this time. "I do, Pa. I promise, I won't go near him anymore." You meant it; you wouldn't risk disappointing your dad and possibly getting hurt. It wasn't worth it. Still, you couldn't shake off the feeling of... loss.

That was the only way you could describe it. It felt like you were letting go of a dream that was never yours to begin with.

[ NEXT ]

[strawberry-s0ap]

style savvy brands 1/16 - marble lily

x x x / x x x / x x x

[angeldev1ls]

ouji yusuke save me...save me ouji yusuke

[royalsealy]

I tried to coord with my hiking boots for a very rainy Yuletide Renn Faire meet!

JSK/Series is Patissier in the Forest by Metamorphose temps de Fille

[link-is-a-dork]

[dailyfatefigures]

Saber - 1/6 Scale - Gothic Lolita Ver. by S-Mist