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Kiss Me Where You Bruise Me Percy Jackson is fated to die on his twenty-first birthday, after a lifetime of battling monsters. Annabeth Chase is doing her hardest not to get attached, but towards the end of the war, emotions are running high, and she can only resist her feelings--and his kiss--for so long. (Aged up/stretchy canon au of PJO, rated E for smut) read on ao3

Annabeth could sense the dark mood which smothered the camp even from all the way inside the attic of the Big House. With an angry huff, she slammed her heavy book shut, a cloud of dust bursting from the pages, before sliding it back on the shelf. Wasn’t like she was going to get any work done now, anyway.

Sure enough, her suspicions were confirmed as soon as she came down the ladder, and was nearly bowled over by Will Solace as he half-dragged, half-carried Charlie Beckendorf to the infirmary. “Sorry,” she said, scooching back against the wall. “Rough quest?”

Beckendorf, to his credit, flashed a smile at her. “Nah,” he croaked, “walk in the park.”

Beneath his hand, which was pressed to his side, a red stain slowly grew on the orange fabric. She raised an eyebrow.

“It’s better than it looks,” Beckendorf protested as Will forced him down onto an infirmary bed. “Honest!”

Will snorted. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”

“You just did.”

“Tell me what happened,” Annabeth said, pointedly. She did not have time for banter.

Beckendorf hissed as Will pulled his shirt back, revealing three long, thin, wet stripes. “Remember how we said it was supposed to be a recon mission?”

Oh for gods’ sake–“What did he do this time?”

“In his defense, this time it was my fault.”

She stared at him.

“Honest!”

“I’m sure.”

“It actually was my fault this time–I accidentally tripped a wire, and then our recon turned into a–”

“A shit-show?”

He swallowed his gasp as Will pressed on the claw marks on his body. “Something like that.”

Annabeth pinched the bridge of her nose. “And let me guess. Instead of retreating, and salvaging the recon as much as he could, Percy decided that the best course of action would be to try and wipe the camp out, so the enemy wouldn’t know their location had been compromised.”

“...Well, yeah.”

“And did he?”

“Of course.”

“All of them this time?”

His silence spoke volumes.

She sighed again, headache already beginning to manifest. “And where is he now?”

“Where do you think?”

“You,” said Will, gently shoving Annabeth towards the door, “out. This could get messy.”

Annabeth had a strong stomach, but Beckendorf was turning green, and since Will hadn’t asked for support, it was probably something he could handle on his own. In any case, she did not want to be in the line of fire if something went sideways.

Besides, she had a son of Poseidon to find.

Not that he was hard to find. He was exactly where he always was.

The arena was empty, save him. That was not in and of itself surprising. General swordsmanship class had been indefinitely suspended as of last summer, so the kids had to get in their practice whenever they could, with whomever was around. And most of the camp was too smart to go toe-to-toe with their best fighter whenever he got into one of his moods. Even his flock of obsessive, simpering groupies were missing, instead of peeking around the corner to watch him as he worked, giggling between their fingers, putting the collective gossip machine of Ten to shame.

She heard him before she saw him, the smack of metal on straw punctuated with a grunt, or a growl. He looked as if he hadn’t even showered or changed after returning to camp, just dumped Beck at the infirmary and made a beeline for the arena, armor and all. Typical. Gone was the sweet, if sarcastic boy who had welcomed her to camp, and in his place was a scowling, broody, capital-W-warrior.

Recently, he had really begun to lean into something of a role here at camp–the prophecy child, the son of Poseidon. He walked around with an albatross so heavy around his neck, you could almost see the slump in his shoulders. He sat with his back turned to the rest of the camp at mealtimes, picking at his food, often leaving with a huff halfway through. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him at a sing-along, or a capture-the-flag game, or even just hanging around the camp, playing basketball and shooting the shit.

No, he had chosen to devote himself entirely to the war effort. Which, fine, whatever, it wasn’t like they couldn’t use it. She wanted to do the same thing, but she had siblings to look after. But he practically lived in the arena, training constantly. The piles of laundry and trash never moved, always the same shape and size from week to week–some of the other counselors were beginning to think that he slept there, too.

While the demigod in question was engrossed with mutilating the straw dummy like it had insulted his mother, Annabeth chose to take a seat on the bleachers instead, and wait until he had tired himself out enough for him to take a break. She had made the mistake of interrupting him during a set before, and would like to walk away from this without his sword in her face.

The minutes stretched on, and he kept slashing. She was sure that he had registered her presence at some point. But he kept on fighting.

Annabeth sighed, resting her head on her knees.

Even after all this time, after all the quests they had done together, he could still confuse the living crap out of her.

Percy Jackson. The strongest demigod of his age. And he knew it. Which was half the problem.

He had been at camp longer than anyone else here. Annabeth, who had arrived at fourteen, escorted by a satyr who had picked her up in Richmond, had been as awed as anyone when she first heard about him. And who wouldn’t be? He had gutted the Minotaur with its own horn at age ten. He had bested Luke Castellan in swordsmanship at twelve. Annabeth hadn’t been there when he and Thalia had been placed on opposite capture-the-flag teams, but she’d heard about it afterwards–and had seen the overturned trees around the flooded creek.

Despite the rumors, their first meeting had been thoroughly unimpressive. After all the talk of his talent and his prowess and his preference for being alone, she had clocked him, not entirely incorrectly, as mostly bark and very little bite, using his power and his sarcasm to keep people at bay. But she was able to match him snark for snark, and in no time at all, they were fast friends, a bond only made stronger by the life-threatening quests they had undertaken together.

She’d seen him at his best–training with the pegasi, commanding a great war ship through a dangerous sea, holding aloft a blue flag after successfully executing her flawless capture-the-flag plan. And she’d seen him at his worst–shivering after holding the sky, squeaking incessantly as a guinea pig, tied to Procrustes’ mattress. He’d faced more monsters than anyone else at camp. Probably more than any other demigod in a long, long time. And it had made him… well, not pig-headed, not really. Percy was, at his core, too humble to be truly arrogant.

But something had definitely changed over the last few years. He had become sullen, withdrawn, quicker to anger. Then one night, he would show up at the campfire, and it would be like nothing had changed. Like the sweet kid had become a kind leader, offering encouragement to his peers and comfort to the younger ones. And then the next morning, he would saunter out of his cabin, hair a mess, a glazed, satisfied look in his eyes, and all of Cabin Ten would be abuzz, trying to piece together what had happened.

Then by lunch, he’d be in a bad mood once again. And on and on and on.

Twenty years old and a living legend, with the weight of the cosmos on your shoulders. Annabeth could sympathize. But she couldn’t even imagine.

How could he walk around with that weight all the time?

A hoarse yell and a clang snapped her out of her thoughts, and she lifted her head to a familiar scene.

Percy stood, fists clenched, shoulders tight, over what was left of the dummy, now sliced and diced into stringy bits, no more useful than a pile of pegasus hay. His sword–not his precious Riptide, oh no, just one of their few good training weapons left–was on the other side of the arena, its blade bent nearly at a forty-five degree angle. Annabeth stood up, hands on her hips. “Hey! Seaweed brain!”

He turned to face her. She could see the arrogant arch of his brow from across the room.

“Easy on the equipment!” She stomped down the steps, resisting the urge to shoulder check him as she went to get the sword. “We only have so many of these.”

Percy shrugged. “And how is that my problem?”

“I thought you were supposed to be good at this.” She picked up the weapon, examining the bent blade. Oof. That was ugly. “Not damaging the weapons is rule number two.”

He only shrugged again, turning away to kick the remains of the dummy into something of a pile. Annabeth felt her eye twitch. “Again, how is that my problem? Just get someone from Nine to deal with it.”

“And who do you think is going to fix this?” She asked, brandishing it at his back. “Jake? He’s busy with the warship? Nyssa? Supply run. And now Beck’s not in any kind of shape to do anything–”

Whirling around, he bared his teeth at her. “Don’t,” he hissed, “bring him up.”

“Oh, I’m gonna.” Gripping the leather so hard it hurt, she stepped toward him. “Easy in and out, you said. No fights. No attention. Just stealth. And now, I’ve got Beckendorf in the infirmary, just barely keeping his guts from falling out.”

“I got us out of there,” he said, “and I took care of the monsters. That’s all that matters.”

“That’s all that matters?” She was aware, distantly, that she was only a few steps away from yelling at him. Already. They’d barely started talking. Something about him just drove her fucking crazy. “Are you serious?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, General Chase,” he mocked, rolling his eyes at her. “I’ll just do all my missions solo from now on. No more dead weight.”

Anger rose from her stomach, hot and ugly. “Is that a joke?” she repeated. “Those are our friends that are getting hurt trying to keep you from doing something stupid!”

His jaw rounded out, stubborn. “I didn’t ask for him to do that. I don’t need your help.”

“We’re fighting a war, Percy,” she said. “We have to help each other. That’s what it means to be on the same team.”

“I don’t care about your stupid team.”

“That’s why you’re in here, breaking our last good weapons? Because you don’t care?”

“Look,” he nearly spat, drawing himself up to his full height, looking down at her. “I have one job –to be the hero of the prophecy. To defeat Kronos. Everything else–that’s your business, not mine.”

And then he turned. To walk away. From her.

He didn’t get more than ten steps before Annabeth had hurled the sword at him. It bounced off his armor, harmlessly, but it got his attention.

“Hey! You could have–”

“Hurt you?” She marched up to him, poking him in the chest with her finger. It had about as much effect as the sword. “How? You’re the big hero, after all. You’re untouchable!” And then she shoved him.

He stumbled back, tripping over his foot before righting himself. “I’m not–”

“Not what? Not the hero?” She shoved him again, but he was ready this time. “That’s funny. You’ve only been preparing for it your entire life, right? That’s why we’re all here, isn’t it?”

“Annabeth–”

“Every quest, every monster, every fight, they’ve all been so you can have your precious glory,” she snarled. “You and your destiny! Doesn’t matter how many of us get hurt in the process, does it, as long as you get to be remembered–”

“That’s not fair–” He started, face coloring with indignation.

But she wouldn't hear it. Sick of his face and his attitude and his destiny, she moved to shove him one more time–and he grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t,” he warned, voice as hard as a crashing wave, “do that again.”

His gaze bored down on her, and she stood as firmly as stone against it. She could feel his heartbeat through the press of his fingers on her wrist.

“Or what?” she asked. “Next time it’ll be me instead of Beckendorf?”

His eyes widened, then narrowed, and with a snarl, he released her arm, uncapping his sword in one smooth, clean move.

This, Annabeth understood. She and Percy weren’t always on the same page, but this? She could work with this.

In response, she drew her knife.

Percy didn’t even wait before launching himself at her.

His opening salvo had all the force of a tsunami crashing to shore, and if Annabeth had been any slower, it would have slammed into her, knocking her off her feet. She side-stepped it easily, following it up with a quick jab to his center. He dodged it, of course. They had sparred with each other too often to not recognize the other’s signature moves.

Usually, when he got like this, it took someone on his level to knock some sense back into him. Thalia was best at it, but wasn’t around enough to be reliable. Nico worked in a pinch, though there was enough bad blood between them that parts of camp tended to get leveled by the end of it. If it was an emergency, Clarisse could step in and hold him off for long enough until he tired himself out.

But no one else was here. It was just Annabeth.

Fortunately for her, she’d had almost her whole life to study Percy Jackson.

He lunged, and in a move that Luke Castellan had taught them both, she feinted out of the way at the last second, before diving in towards him behind the reach of his blade, where she grabbed his arm, and flipped him over her shoulder. He landed with a satisfying thud, the breath knocked out of him.

There. “Now, are you going to–”

He swiped wildly at her feet, and she jumped back.

Swifter than she thought he could be, he scrambled to his feet. He advanced on her, bringing his sword down in an overhead arc, which she handily blocked. “Please,” she scoffed, light on her feet as she shifted to his side. “I know how you fight. I know you.”

Eyes narrowed, he twisted, bringing his sword down towards her leg, where her blade was already waiting. Block, block, block, each ringing clang of their weapons sounded in a rhythm Cabin Seven would be proud of as Annabeth fended them all off. Because she did know him. He might drive her crazy, he might hiss and growl and glare, but they had fought alongside each other too long to not know each other, down to their cores.

Of course, that meant that he knew her, too. And he knew very well that her fatal flaw was pride.

So sure of herself, she hadn’t noticed that he had steadily closed the distance between them. With a flash of bared teeth, right in her face, he caught her wrist in his left hand, pinning her in place. “You don’t know a thing about me,” he hissed.

In the dim light of the arena, his already sharp features sharpened even further, eyes glinting with fury. Mouth open, he was panting, his shoulders heaving with the effort of having to keep up with her. Good.

“You’re right,” she said, knifelike. “Maybe I don’t know you. Because I always thought you considered us your friends, instead of just your cannon-fodder!”

He roared, shoving her forward, and she skidded across the grass, nearly tripping over her feet. Distantly, she noted that her wrist was throbbing.

Percy swung his sword, building up his energy, and holding it aloft, he charged towards her, every inch of him radiating near-deadly intent.

There was no way she could block this strike.

So she decided to take a page out of Percy’s book.

Dropping her knife, she charged right back at him, aiming low.

She caught him around the middle, and their opposite forces sent them both tumbling to the ground. They rolled, limbs flailing as they fought for the upper hand, like two waves crashing into each other.

But he wouldn’t be taken off guard a second time. Using the new momentum, he rolled so he was on top of her, his big hands pinning her wrists to the ground. Annabeth fought like a woman possessed–a soft grunt from above indicating that she got in a good hit or two–but he was simply too strong for her to throw him off.

“I guess you really don’t know me at all,” he spat. His lip had split at some point, a single drop of dark blood lingering at the swell of it. “Because anyone I consider to be my friend would know that I would never think that.”

“Could have fooled me,” she growled, pulling her legs up behind him. If she could just get the right leverage, maybe she could twist them and–

Anticipating her move, he shimmied down, dropping his hips over her thighs. She tried to lift her arm–to punch him or shove him or something–but he slammed them back down towards the ground.

She wasn’t going anywhere. And he knew it.

But she had one last secret weapon.

“At least you bothered to bring him back with you,” she said, unkindly–and a little undeservedly, if she was being honest. “If I had been on that mission instead of Beck, would you have left me behind?”

“Never,” he swore. “I would never.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

Percy glared at her, with all the fury of a volcano. She swallowed, worried, for a moment, that she had gone too far. That it was actually true. That maybe he could leave her behind, especially after everything she just said. That maybe she really didn’t know him after all.

And then he did something that she wasn’t expecting. In retrospect, though, she shouldn’t have been surprised. She had done the same thing to him, after all.

He kissed her.

Turns out, he had a secret weapon, too.

His mouth was hot on top of hers, the bead of blood from his lips falling to her tongue. She gasped, and he invited himself in further, his hand coming up to cup her face. Freeing her arms.

She could have pushed him off. Told him to go kick rocks. Instead, she buried her hands in his hair, and brought him closer.

How long they lay there, making out, she didn’t know. All she knew was that it was entirely too short–one moment, he licked at her lips, pressing her further into the dirt, and she whined, high in her throat, and in the next, he was standing a respectable distance away, hands over his mouth, eyes wild. Annabeth blinked, momentarily stunned. Had she hallucinated the whole thing?

“I–” he stammered, uncharacteristically nervous. “I–I’m sorry, I–”

Annabeth scrambled upright. Oh no he fucking didn’t– “Don’t you fucking dare–don’t you run away again.”

From the way he had put his weight on his back foot, he was about to do just that. “Excuse me?” he asked, gaping at her.

“You heard me.”

“Me? Run away?”

“Yes, you,” she said, gripping the grass hard enough to rip. “You’re a coward, Percy Jackson.” Here he was. Kissing her, and running off again. Last time, it had been to Calypso and Ogygia. Who might he choose over Annabeth now. Or maybe he’d choose a new god or goddess, perhaps. Romance Thetis or fuck Ganymede while Annabeth trained for his war. And pined away for his kiss.

“Go fuck yourself,” he said, wiping the blood from his split lip, made wet and shiny with her spit.

She threw a piece of grass at him, like it would do something. “Fuck me yourself” she snarled, blood racing hot. Not Calypso or Thetis or Ganymede or Aphrodite, but her, who was here and desperate and was fated to be screwed up forever by his kiss. By the memory of his hand, cupping her cheek, of his hair between her fingers, of his blood in her mouth.

The grass, predictably, did nothing. But her words, apparently, did.

He turned to stare at her, two sword lengths apart. Both of their weapons were on the ground now. But it felt like they were up and at the ready, pointed at each other’s chests. Because what else could this tense, coiled feeling in her stomach be?

His chest heaved from exertion, a faint sheen of sweat gathered at the line of his thick, black hair, and she couldn’t help herself from tracing a drop as it ran over his brow, to his nose, to his lips, and finally his tongue, poking out from his lips to lick it up. A swell of jealousy rose in her, her tongue pressing against the back of her teeth, like it was trying to get to him. She clenched her jaw and looked away, digging her nails into the dirt floor to try to anchor her back to earth.

“...What did you say?”

“Nothing,” she muttered. “You won. Whatever.”

In the corner of her vision, she saw his hand, outstretched and extended, and she took it, allowing him to pull her up off the ground. His long fingers, perfect for curling around the hilt of a sword, wrapped around her palm, his thumb inadvertently swiping over the bruise where he had grabbed her, and she suppressed a wince.

“You okay?”

Not well enough, it seemed. “Fine.”

His hand in hers, he brought it to his face, inspecting the purple spot. She could feel his breath on her fingers, so soft and gentle, an unexpected counterpoint to his firm, steady grip. “I’m sorry,” he said, unable to meet her eyes.

“It’s okay.” It didn’t actually hurt that bad. It’d probably be gone by tomorrow morning.

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes dark and stormy. Looking into her own, their hands still clasped together.

And then he leaned forward and she met him halfway.

The last time anyone had ever kissed Annabeth Chase was at a party after the Harvard-Yale game her freshman year, before she’d decided she had to take a leave of absence to be a full-time demigod. (Even her dad agreed that if the world ended, there would not be a lot of use for BS in Architecture. But neither of them were happy about it.) The guy had smelled like beer, and had half his face painted crimson. She’d also been a little drunk. Mostly because the tequila shots her roommate had provided had ended up stronger than camp strawberry wine, which had always been her go to drink of choice. Before that had been Noah from her freshman seminar. Which had been one long exercise in disappointment. After disappointment. After disappointment.

He pulled away, breaking off with a quiet gasp. “Did you mean what you said?” he asked.

“What?” She had said a lot of things. And her brain was a little bit scrambled from the kiss.

“You told me to…” He trailed off, flushing. Then, like he was about to face a monster, she saw him swallow, square his shoulders, and look her in the eye again. “About fucking you.”

She blinked. “What?” And this wasn’t happening. She could not be interpreting this correctly. Percy Jackson, hero of Olympus, greatest demigod alive, who could have any mortal and likely any immortal woman he wanted–Percy Jackson, who was going to die in just over a month, on his twenty-first birthday–was not asking her this.

“You told me to fuck you,” he said, unflinching, having apparently gathered his strength. “Do you mean it?”

There had to be a way to save face with this. To not come off as one of his little groupies. To not set herself up for the inevitable heartbreak at the end of the summer.

She could deflect quickly, accuse him of spending too much time at camp if he didn’t know a simple figure of speech. Make a joke about him being too forward. Make a joke about his dad and him being too easy. Ask if he was just worried about dying a virgin. (A stupid thought. He was too handsome, too powerful, too good to not have girls around camp throwing themselves at him. She’d seen it. And he was kind, and sweet, and good. But he wasn’t that good.)

She was the smartest person in the camp. She could get out of this. She was the smartest person at camp. She knew it meant men like Percy Jackson didn’t want to sleep with her.

But from behind his stormy gaze was something else–desperation, from a young man doomed to die. He needed this… and maybe she did, too.

She nodded. “Yes. I do.”

He blinked, like he was taking a moment to process what she had said. “Okay. Come on, then.” Turning, he led her away from the arena, never letting go of her hand.

Outside, darkness was settling in. She thought he might be taking her to the infirmary, which she thought was a little bit extra for what was a minor bruise at best, but he took them in a different direction. She could have pulled away, kicked him in the balls, or flipped him into the dirt again. But she didn’t.

Together, they made their way in silence to the halo of cabins, their shadows stretching and melting across the grass in the last few rays of daylight. Annabeth’s slowly deteriorating rational brain couldn’t even spare a thought to worry about someone possibly seeing them–though, apparently, that wasn’t an issue at all tonight, as Camp was practically deserted, almost deafening in its silence. In lieu of chatter and sword clangs and laughter, there were owls, the gentle waves on the beach, and her heartbeat, loud enough to drown it all out.

Still holding her hand, he led her to his cabin, making quick work of unlocking the door. Most of the cabins didn’t have locks, but she knew there had been a few… incidents… of kids hoping to filch a souvenir from the mysterious lair of Percy Jackson. After the third decoy pen had disappeared, Beck had pitched in to help.

But a lair it was not. It looked exactly like it had the last time she’d been there–a pile of laundry here, scattered candy wrappers there, the Minotaur horn still proudly displayed on the wall, gleaming darkly in the low light. Annabeth hadn’t been inside n months, ever since the last inspection ended up with her stubbing her toe no less than three times on a couple of loose nails which Percy had sworn up and down hadn’t been there five minutes ago, but she would have remembered seeing the giant fountain which now stood in the corner of the room. So it must have been new.

“Redecorated recently?” she said, intending it to be a little harsher than it came out.

“Gift from dad,” he replied, closing the door behind them.

“Oh.” She could have guessed. The water pouring out must have been warm, a spray of mist ringing the edge of the basin, but she shivered anyway.

The hand which had held hers moved to her arm now, gently turning her to face him. The fight was over. The walk back to the cabins wasn’t exactly difficult. And yet, he was still breathing hard. Like he just couldn’t catch it.

The cabin was warm, sweet but not suffocating, but for a moment, she was thrown back to a dark cavern in the heart of a volcano, searing heat all around her, his t-shirt in her grip, her mouth against his. Her pulse skipped a beat as he brought his hand up to her hair, threading his fingers through her curls, and then he kissed her again.

But “kiss” wasn’t really strong enough to describe what he was doing to her.

In one moment, he held her like she was made of glass, and in the next, he had her crushed to his chest, lips pressed against her own. His arm had snaked around her waist, firm like iron, and somehow he had managed to slip his even firmer thigh between her own.

Wiggling a hand between their bodies, she gripped his shoulder, using the leverage to pull her mouth away, catching her breath. “Well,” she chuckled, a little light-headed, “someone’s excited–”

He cut her off, capturing her lips again, pulling her even tighter to him. His mouth felt hotter than any volcano. The hand in her hair pulled, ever so slightly, a calculated move to open her mouth so he could properly plunder it with his tongue. Clever. She didn’t think he’d had it in him.

She could appreciate a good strategy. But she wouldn’t be taken down so quickly.

The hand in her hair drifted sideways, gently turning her head so he could move his attack to her neck. And as she stood there, wrapped up in his embrace, she realized that she had made a grave miscalculation.

Percy Jackson was not, apparently, worried he would die a virgin. He knew exactly what he was doing. Even when he pulled back, cradling her jaw, his thigh between hers the only thing keeping her from following. “Tell me again,” he said. “One more time.”

She blinked, uncomprehendingly. “Excuse me?”

“Do you want to do this?”

“You’re really asking that with your knee on my crotch?”

At least he had the decency to blush, peach dusting the tips of his ears. “It’s like with the fighting. I’m asking because I’ve been told I can get a little… intense.”

A sickly feeling went through her stomach, sharp as a knife. “By who?”

Stone-faced, he looked away, his jaw snapping shut.

Names and faces of potential culprits flashed through her mind: Drew, Katie, Miranda. All potential candidates. But if they had managed to bag Percy Jackson, everyone at camp would have heard about it before breakfast. There was Rachel, obviously, even if she didn’t want to admit it. But if it had been her, he would have been more embarrassed. He knew how Annabeth felt about her.

Then she remembered–he had been missing for a month after he exploded the mountain. Lost beyond the reach of mortals. And when he had returned, he was different. Older, somehow, and maybe sadder. Like something had been lost.

He released her, and she shivered at the sudden touch of air against her skin. “Go ahead and hop in the shower,” he said. “I’ll lock up and join you in a minute.”

“Shower?”

He raised an eyebrow. “We are a little smelly from earlier.”

On cue, the stench of cooling sweat hit her all at once, and she blushed.

Percy snorted, then kissed her cheek. “Go on,” he said. “I’ll just be a second.” And off he went, picking up a spare shirt and a couple of candy wrappers. How thoughtful of him.

Showering was thoughtful, too, but it also seemed pretty silly to her. Like, they were only going to get sweatier in just a little bit, so what was even the point?

Still, she had to admit, it was a nice shower. She was always fighting with her cabin mates for shower times, and they had instituted a strict, five-minute limit on water usage. Perks of living by yourself, she supposed–unlimited access to the bathroom.

And perks of living in Cabin Three, apparently–the shower turned on immediately, a wave of gentle, consistent pressure which already started pumping out warm water. Had he paid his cyclops brother to gut the plumbing and redo the whole thing?

Spoiled, supercilious ass.

Shoes and socks kicked off and haphazardly discarded in the corner, she stripped off her camp shirt and shorts, piling them on top of the closed toilet seat, before hesitating as she went to remove her bra. Which was stupid. How was she supposed to shower and have sex with someone while wearing her underwear? And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to take it off, her fingers stayed by some invisible force as they rested on the straps. On the other side of the wall, she could hear Percy humming to himself, tuneless, his footsteps soft against the wooden floor.

She was being stupid.

She swallowed her pride, and shucked off her bra and underwear, laying them gently across the rest of her clothes.

The water ran hot, pleasantly so, steam filling the bathroom and fogging the shower. Shaking out her hair from its wispy, half-undone ponytail, she decided against letting it run free, putting it back up in a bun instead. She still had a day or two left in her shampoo rotation, no need to mess with it now.

She sighed as she stepped in, the water pummeling her stiff shoulders, forcing them to relax, and she considered the merits of using what she presumed to be Percy’s soap, which rested on the corner shelf. Picking it up the bar, she sniffed it, carefully. Instead of gross boy smell, she got whiffs of salt, lavender, and sandalwood. It was nice.

“You can use my soap if you want.”

Only her many years of battle training kept her from jumping, slipping on the wet floor, and banging her head on the wall as she went down. As it was, she only flinched–barely–whipping her head around to glare at him.

Of course, her carefully constructed insult withered away in her mouth as she got her first look at his naked body. His perfectly formed, perfectly shaped body. Fuck. Look at him. What the fuck.

His lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile. For a moment, she was stunned. When was the last time she had seen him without a scowl? “Can I come in?”

“S–” she coughed, dryly, and he raised an eyebrow. Cracking her head open might have been preferable. “Sure. Yeah. Your shower.”

And he slipped into the shower with her.

“May I?” he said, holding his hand out.

She stared, uncomprehending, until he flicked his eyes to the soap. Wordlessly, she handed it over.

“Turn around,” he murmured. “I’ll do your back.”

And wordlessly, she did.

His hands were the same temperature as the water, but she still flinched as he put them on her, one on her shoulder and one on her hip. “Easy,” he said, and she hated the way his tone made her flush.

Slowly, carefully, he began to wash her with his soap. His hands skimmed over her skin, hypnotic, and despite her best efforts, she relaxed even further. She didn’t even jump when he stepped closer to her, his warm breath softly puffing against her neck, then the press of his lips to her ear even softer. She sighed, and he hummed, kissing the spot again.

Annabeth stood there, submitting to Percy’s attentions, and her nerves slipped away with the water. It wasn’t very long until she was fully leaning into him, her back pressed right up against his firm chest, his hands wandering over her hips and thighs and stomach. Distantly, she recognized the brilliance of the soap trick–it was an easy way for him to get his hands on her, and boy was it working.

And boy was she not bothered by it.

“So,” she asked, after a while, “is this a thing for you?”

He hummed, a wordless question.

“Washing people. Is it a kink?”

He snorted. “Hardly. We’re just sweaty.”

“So it’s the shower, then.”

This time, he actually laughed. “I’m not a shower sex person, no.”

She turned her head to look at him, frowning. “Seriously?”

Shrugging, he drew the bar of soap behind her ear, and she had to clench her teeth to stop herself from moaning. “Most of my previous partners aren’t much for showering.”

Wait, what? “Are you sneaking off to some hippy commune on off days?” She couldn’t help but ask.

“Nah, too much effort. The lake’s right there.”

“...You’ve lost me.”

He shot her a look, slanted, eyebrow raised.

She frowned, mind racing. He hadn’t slept with anyone from camp. He didn’t go off into the mortal world. The lake was right there. Who would… Oh. “The naiads? Really?”

“Who else am I going to hook up with here? If I slept with another camper, everyone would hear about it by breakfast the next morning.”

And yet, here she was, in the shower of Cabin Three. Clearly, he didn’t mind the gossip if it was about her. Heat pooled in her stomach, zipping through her veins.

“I guess that makes sense,” she said, turning back to face forward. She couldn’t look at his bare chest for too long without getting weak in the knees. She couldn’t think about his perfect body pressed up against the inhumanly beautiful water spirits without wanting to be sick. “They always were incorrigible flirts.”

“Yeah, well.” His hand now clean, he began wiping the soap off her body, taking care to cover every dip and curve. “I don’t really think it was me they were interested in.”

She swallowed, her stomach twinging unpleasantly.

The naiads were incorrigible flirts, with everyone, but they were especially aggressive with Percy. Even when he was a boy, she would always spy them blowing him kisses from under the water, or spot them leaving him little gifts of braided duckweed crowns outside his cabin, or at his table in the dining pavilion. That a flirtation might escalate to something… more… didn’t exactly surprise her.

But it did piss her off.

And the thought of Percy, handsome, kind Percy, in the hands of an inhumanly beautiful spirit… well that just pissed her off more.

Lost in her thoughts and the feeling of his hands, it took her a minute to put together just what his fingers were tracking on her stomach, which twinged again, for an entirely different reason.

“What’s wrong?” Percy asked. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she ground out, cheeks hot. “It’s nothing.”

She felt his breathing, measured his calm, and could almost hear his incredulity when he asked, “You’re not ashamed of your scars, are you?”

“Well…”

Annabeth could almost picture the furrow in his brow as he parsed her words. She could turn around to see it, too, if she wanted, but she found herself frozen in place, held still by the trace of his fingertips over the white, jagged lines which hadn’t come from a weapon or claw.

“The stretch marks?” he asked, after a moment. “Seriously?”

“You literally just told me that you like to hook up with the naiads,” she grumbled, her attempt at crossing her arms aborted by the fact that they were trapped under Percy’s. “Excuse me for being a normal girl with body issues.”

“What for?”

She turned back to look at him. His face was just as she had pictured it. “Seriously?” she echoed.

“Seriously. You’re…” He trailed off, still frowning, but she could see the wheels turning in his head. At least he was thinking about what to say, rather than just blurting out some silly, basic, uninspired ‘beautiful’ and calling it a day.

When he didn’t follow up, she wondered if he had something critical to say instead.

But no, he only turned her around, pressing her up against him once again. Cupping her face, he leaned down, pressing another deep kiss into her, and she couldn’t help but lean into it, too, wrapping her arms about his neck, standing up on her toes. His hands, now free to roam, covered as much ground as they could, stroking her neck, her back, her sides, and lower, and lower. Warm hands moved from her shoulder blades to her ass, cupping the swell of it, holding her there. Waiting.

For what? Should she jump into his arms? She wouldn’t necessarily mind that. Was he an “up against the wall” kind of guy? How would that have worked underwater, anyway?

He broke away from her mouth, panting, and he gasped, “You think too much.”

Without realizing it, she had been rendered breathless as well. Too well, maybe. She wasn’t thinking at all, at the moment. “What?”

“I can feel your brain working.” He kissed her again, one hand traveling back up to her hip, and she actually whimpered into his mouth. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

Ah. “So I’m all brains, no beauty, then?”

He pulled back, frowning again. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s not exactly an insult,” she said, leaning up for another kiss. And it wasn’t. The long-simmering tensions between Six and Ten were common knowledge. Athena’s children prioritized one over the other, and it wasn’t the one that would put her in league with the pretty water spirits.

He let her, but not for very long. “You’re both.”

“It’s really okay–”

“It’s really not.” He kissed her this time, and hard. Harder than before, Her toes curled, and suddenly she was very grateful for the hand on her ass which didn’t let her fall. “You’ve always been both.”

Her response was quashed by his tongue in her mouth, swallowed up by the nip of his teeth on her lips, snuffed out by the squeeze of his hand on her hip.

“You,” kiss, bite, gasp, “are,” he moved to her jaw, then her neck, then her shoulder, planting hot kisses on each inch of skin, hotter than the water which pooled around their feet, “beautiful.”

“Okay,” she said, fighting through the moan which threatened to burst from her chest, “now you’re laying it on a bit thick.”

His only response was to drag his teeth across her jugular, soothing the trail of fire with his tongue. He kissed across the line of her collarbone, his lips pressing hot burns into her skin, and she shuddered as he reached her sternum. His hands traveled up her sides, but she had no time to mourn the loss, especially as his fingers came to rest just beneath her breasts.

Flicking his eyes, wine-dark, up to hers, he rested his mouth just above her skin, one eyebrow raised, a silent question, seeking confirmation. Even the hot puffs of air over her chest were enough to make her tremble, and she had to bite her tongue to keep her eyes from fluttering closed.

“Seriously,” she said, latching onto the last bits of sanity she had left, “you’ve already got me naked in your shower. You don’t have to flatter me into your bed. I know I’m not as hot as your immortal harem, it’s fine.”

It was. And she was almost comfortable with that. She might have been, if it were all a question of abstractions, and not the knowledge that whatever sweet words he whispered, Percy Jackson would, inevitably, compare her to them. She might have been, if she could ever hope to measure up to them.

Annabeth was only a mortal. How could she ever compare to such inhuman beauty?

“Stop that.” His thumbs, ever so slightly, tilted up towards her breasts.

“Stop what?”

“Comparing yourself to them.” Lowering his head, his eyes never left hers, as deep and inexorable as a whirlpool. “Especially when this is so much better.”

And he brought down his lips and teeth around a nipple.

She jumped–into him, and he smirked.

He kept her pinned there for a while, groping and grasping at her, and all the while, he feasted himself upon her. There was no other word for it. He covered every inch of skin with his mouth, moving from breast to breast and shoulder to shoulder, dragging his tongue over her, hot enough to burn. She let her head fall back, making room for his hungry mouth which peppered kisses up and down her neck.

So close to him, she felt his dark chuckle vibrate into her bones, skittering down her spine, scratching that most perfect itch, and she groaned, her hips stuttering as she faltered. Thank the gods for his leg, her shaking knees only stabilized by the thrust of his firm thigh between hers. He brought his hands around, roughly grasping her other breast, and she nearly jumped again. “W–what–” A squeeze, hot and hungry, and her thighs trembled. “What are you talking about?”

In lieu of an answer, he bit her again. His teeth clamped over the pulse point in her neck, and he sucked. Hard.

Someone should have informed Annabeth’s body that the neck wasn’t an erogenous zone, but it clearly hadn’t gotten the message–with every suck, every nip, every burning press of his lips, the ache between her legs only grew hotter and hotter. She clutched him to her, digging her fingers into the muscle of his shoulder, and felt his laugh all the way into her blood.

Eventually, he released her, with one final swipe of his tongue across the newly growing bruise. “Gods,” he hissed, staring at her neck. “Look at you.”

She swallowed, feeling the throb of her broken skin almost inside of her. A good, omen, hopefully.

“Your neck.” He dipped down to kiss it again, before moving south. “Your skin.” His hand ghosted beneath the swell of her breast, fingertips leaving burning trails. “Look.”

She did. She couldn’t not.

The hot steam of the shower had turned her skin pink. Old scar tissue, years of mostly victorious battles, criss-crossed her body, the lines now nearly white. Percy traced them with his fingers, kissed his way across the map of her body, from breast to stomach to hips. “Perfect,” he murmured, getting down on his knees.

Flushing, as hot as the water, Annabeth looked up at the ceiling, lip between her teeth. She couldn’t look at him. Not like that. Not with his eyes shining, dark and hungry. Not with the way his hands cradled her hips, firmly but gently.

And then, he smacked her ass.

She yelped, hopping up onto her toes. “The hell–!”

“I’ve wanted to do that forever,” he said, that slanted grin making her melt. “I always wondered what color you’d turn if I spanked you.” He flicked his gaze up at her, eyes so blown out they were nearly black, and he smacked her again. And again. “Oh yeah,” he grinned. “That’s a nice red.”

Presumably, her face was just as red as her ass was now. “Good for you.”

Good for her, too.

“Annabeth,” he called from below. “Look at me.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she did. He knelt before her, and she saw his hands along her thighs, his mouth parted, lips and tongue wet–and his cock. Hard. Red. Painfully at attention.

“You don’t know how much I thought about you,” he murmured, taking one leg and draping it over his shoulder. “How I used to dream about you.” He pressed a kiss to her thigh, and Annabeth, embarrassingly, moaned, a long, deep, drawn-out thing, which only served to make him grin. “About this.”

It was impossible to mistake his intentions here. He had telegraphed it every step of the way. And yet, even with him on his knees, his mouth between her legs, and hunger in his eyes, it still surprised her when he put his tongue to her cunt.

She gripped his hair, spine bending, and felt his lips curve against her skin.

Okay. Definitely not a virgin.

Hot breath puffed against her thigh, and he dragged the flat of his tongue over her folds, wet, slow, and obscene, over and over again, so loud she could hear it, even over the roar of the shower. One hand came up to brace her against him, splayed out over the small of her back, while the other dug crescents into her skin, little sparks stoking the fire ever hotter.

Annabeth had given head maybe once or twice, but she’d never gotten it. She’d endured a few finger fumbles from less-than-skilled practitioners in the heat of the moment, and decided that she didn’t want their faces anywhere near her vagina. And to hear it from the girls around camp, a lot of guys, both mortal and demigod, weren’t exactly enthusiastic about the whole cunnilingus thing.

Not so with Percy. He knelt beneath her, sturdy as a statue, his onslaught against her showing no signs of stopping. Before long, he had abandoned the flat of his tongue, trading wide coverage for a more concentrated area of attack. As smoothly as he used his sword, he slid his tongue between the folds of her cunt, the sharp edge opening her up, little by little, the point flickering along her clit, sending tiny shocks all up into her.

Blood roared in her ears, fighting with the heavy spray of water, the wet smack of his lips, the rhythmic grunts of pleasure she only realized came from her when he pulled back, grinning up at her, and said only one word: “Louder.”

Suddenly she was very grateful for the sounds of the shower spray.

She was even more grateful when he moved from merely licking along the seam of her cunt to sticking his tongue right inside it. A moan broke through her throat, punching out of her almost painfully, and she curled over Percy’s head, gripping his hair even tighter, which only had the added effect of pushing her hips further into his mouth.

Seizing on the sudden change in her center of gravity, he readjusted her leg to put more weight on his shoulder, freeing up the hand on her back for a much more important task–slipping his finger inside of her.

“Fuck,” she moaned, clenching around the thick slide of it. “Percy.”

His smirk burned against her thigh, and he pulled her even closer, locking her into his embrace, lips and tongue and teeth and hand sending her ever closer towards the edge at an alarming rate. Annabeth had never gotten so close to orgasm with anyone so quickly before in her life.

Hell, she’d never gotten so close to orgasm so quickly, period.

She wanted to tell him to stop, or slow down. If this was to be their only night together, then she wanted to enjoy it, not fumble through as quickly as possible. Rhythmically, she flexed her fingers in his thick hair, attempting to hold on to the few functional brain cells she had so she could tell him something fun and sexy, like, Why the rush, or It’s not a race, until he pressed the mound of his palm up against her clit, and her brain shorted out entirely.

And when he licked it, wrapping his lips around and sucking, it was all over.

She came, hard, curling over his head, moaning so wantonly it would make Eros blush. If Percy hadn’t been beneath her, holding her trembling body, she might have fallen over entirely. She must have missed a few seconds, because suddenly, Percy had slithered out from under her, and had gathered her up in his arms again, kissing her so fiercely she could taste herself on him.

“Annabeth,” he moaned, his breath as hot as his hands. She could feel him against her, as hard as bronze.

She would have responded, if he hadn’t rendered her completely useless. Her tongue felt numb in her mouth, battered by his, a slick, wet, heavy onslaught that she never wanted to end. A siege she desperately hoped would never be broken.

Eventually, though, after she had been kissed thoroughly stupid, he let up, pulling back more than two inches away from her face. “Okay?” he ground out, his voice rough and gravelly, wrecked like he was the one who had been doing the screaming.

“Hng,” she responded, eloquently.

It was only the smallest shred of lingering pride which let her walk out of that shower on her own two feet, rather than have Percy carry her to his bed, like she was some kind of blushing bride. The thought brought her, a bit cruelly, back into herself, and she shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the sudden absence of the warm water as Percy shut off the shower. “Okay?” he asked again, his hand on her waist, and she nodded, swallowing at the feel of gooseflesh which ran through her body.

She nodded, running her tongue over her lips, a pleasant spark bursting inside her as she watched his eyes track it. “I thought,” she said, the taunt lightly undercut by the audible sigh in her voice, “that you were going to fuck me.”

His eyes darkened, trench-deep, and he moved his hand to entwine it with hers, entirely too gentle for the way he growled out his next words: “If you wanted a good fucking, all you had to do was ask.”

“Isn’t that why you dragged me into your lair?” she asked, leading him to the bed. She needed to sit down or her legs might give out. “To give me a good fucking?”

Before she could sit down, though, he pulled her to him again, fastening his lips to her neck. “I think,” he whispered into her skin, “that you should ask me for it.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” And then he nipped at her jugular, lightly, and she gasped, twitching in his arms. “Ask me to fuck you.”

“Percy–” she tried, half-heartedly, to squirm out of his embrace, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Mm?” He licked her ear, and she squeaked. “What was that?”

Annabeth pushed at his chest.

In response, he blew a raspberry on her.

Shrieking, she managed to twist her way out of his arms, and shoved him lightly onto the bed. Percy made it easier, laughing too hard to hold onto her. “Asshole.”

He leaned back, resting on his elbows, a smooth, fluid motion, the dim lights of his cabin casting his chest and stomach in sinful shadow. “Aw, let me have my fun,” he chuckled. “First time I tried that on a naiad, she thought it was some kind of mysterious, human wedding rite.”

Something in Annabeth’s chest grew hot. She wasn’t sure what was worse–the reminder that Percy had slept with the naiads, the idea that he had tried something human with them and they had misunderstood it, or the use of the w-word. Wedding. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “How would you like it if someone sprang that on you?”

He grinned, sharklike. “I think I’d like that very much.”

It hit her, then, what position they’d ended up in. Sprawled out before her, Percy had let his legs fall open, a twitch away from bracketing her between them. And there, staring her in the face, was his cock. Hard. Pointed at her.

She swallowed, her mouth filling with saliva. Which was a new experience.

Nothing about her previous sexual encounters had ever inspired her to try fellatio before. She’d given a couple of handjobs, sure, but this was uncharted territory. In theory, the idea had always sounded… decidedly unappealing. Penises were gross, as were often the guys attached to them.

But there was Percy’s cock. It didn’t look gross at all.

It looked perfect, and purple, and so, so fucking pretty.

Only the creak of her knees as she knelt down was able to snap her out of her trance. She wasn’t exactly the most graceful person–she guessed she should be thankful she had managed to get down here without collapsing in an embarrassing heap. She tried not to picture the naiads, creatures of otherworldly grace and poise, slithering down to kneel before their lord’s son.

And then she realized his cock was at eye-level, and all other thoughts went out the window.

“Hey.” Percy’s hand was on her cheek, and he tilted her face towards him. His eyes were soft as he looked at her, the heat of the moment not quite as intense as before. “You don’t have to,” he said, even as his fingers skated beneath her chin. His thumb hovered before her lips, twitching.

“You don’t want me to?” She asked. Experimentally, she flicked out her tongue, making contact.

“I… don’t know how to answer that question,” he said, hoarse.

“You don’t?” She looked again to his cock, and breathed on his thumb, her breath as hot and wet as she could make it.

It twitched. He hissed, like he had been shocked.

In response, she laughed, deep in her throat. “Seems like you just did.”

And then, in what might have been the most brazen thing she had ever done, including inviting the son of Poseidon to fuck her out of nowhere, she reached forward, and took his thumb into her mouth. She drew her tongue against the skin, licking the clean taste of him, and hollowed her cheeks in an exaggerated suck.

Spots of red appeared on his cheeks, and his jaw dropped open. “Gods,” he growled, a tone of voice she had never heard out of his mouth before. Something deep inside her pulsed, and she decided to do it again.

“Gods,” he said again, eyes as black as a sea storm.

Dragging her tongue along the line of his thumb, she let her eyes flutter close, lips curling as she heard him groan, wrecked like a ship on shore.

“Gods,” he said a third time, his fingers delicately cradling her face, and a thrill went through her. “The fucking mouth on you.”

Releasing his thumb with an obscene pop, she pressed forward, ready to put that mouth to use. And she wanted to. She wanted to hear her name as it spilled from his lips, in choked, bitten-off gasps, or long, loud moans. She wanted to send his eyes rolling, to have him tangle his fingers in her hair, bending over her as she brought him to ever higher heights. She wanted to make him feel as amazing, as wanted, as he did for her.

But he had other ideas, evidently. “C’mere,” he murmured, pulling her back up to him. He wasted no time, kissing her senseless, occupying her mouth in other ways. Hungry hands gripped at her hips, her tits, her chin and her cheeks, and she just let it all happen.

Well, almost. “I thought,” she said, panting just a little, “you wanted me to–”

He cut her off with a kiss. “Not tonight,” he said, softly, before going back for more.

But she pulled back, confused. “What do you mean?” Tonight was all they had. He was going to die soon. She’d never get the chance to suck his dick if not tonight. She’d never get the chance to do anything else with him if not tonight.

Slowly, achingly tender, he tucked a curl behind her ear, all passion deserting him for the moment. “I don’t…” he swallowed, then, suddenly shy, before bringing her in closer, enveloping her in an embrace.

After a second of shock, she returned it, wrapping her arms around him. Even with a girl naked and in his lap, perched on top of his hard cock, nevertheless he held her far more gently than she ever imagined he could be capable of. He buried his nose in her neck, his breath hot against her skin, and if she hadn’t been so close, she never would have heard his next words.

“I don’t want you like that,” he said, barely audible.

She was proud of how little her voice betrayed the sudden, cold shock that came over her, like she had been dumped in the lake. “Oh.”

“No, I mean–” He shook his head, nose against her skin. “Not at my feet.”

Not at–...ah. Of course. The naiads.

I don’t really think it was me they were interested in.

She pressed her lips to his hair, already bone dry even after their shower. “Okay,” she promised. “Okay, I won’t.”

He nodded into her neck, and just held her for a little while longer.

“Besides,” he said, after a moment. “I like this just fine.”

She tilted her head back, giving him more access. “Like what?”

“You.” Kiss. “Here.” Another, lower on her neck. “Smelling like me.”

Cheeks red, she let him pepper kisses all over her skin, fingertips tapping scattered rhythms against his shoulders. Any time she tried to pull away, he dug his fingers in deeper, hands tightening about her waist, a quick nip to her neck to keep her in place, and she just let him. Let him explore her body like the seas they sailed through and the labyrinths they’d traversed together. His hands traced a path from top to bottom, from neck to spine to stomach to clit, as sure and confident as though he had Ariadne’s thread, and she couldn’t help but sigh at every burning touch and scorching kiss. With every stroke and every bite, he pulled a moan from her, playing her as skillfully as any musician.

“That’s it,” he growled, leaning down to kiss between her breasts. “Don’t hold back–I want to hear your moans.”

Oh, he did, did he?

Tipping her head back so she could look down her nose at him, she met his eyes, and shut her jaw with an audible clack.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

Annabeth raised hers back, a silent challenge.

“Oh, we’re being shy now, are we? What happened to the girl who basically fellated my thumb?” He bent his head towards her breast, grazing his teeth across the skin, running his tongue around her nipple.

She had to chew on her lips to keep her mouth shut. A squeak still managed to escape, but he had just given a sharp bite to her nipple, so she thought that was allowed. Soothed by the swipe of a tongue, Annabeth swallowed her moans as best she could, which meant that it had to come out in other ways. She tightened her legs around his, squirming on top of his lap, gratified by the hiss that came from beneath.

Grinning, Percy took up the cause with vigor, slipping his fingers inside of her.

Was she so turned on it hurt? Yes. Was it getting harder and harder to keep her noises in? Absolutely. But she wasn’t going to sit there and just take what he was giving her. She wasn’t one of the simpering naiads who only treated him as an extension of his father.

She was Annabeth, and she refused to make it easy for him.

And judging from the gleeful glint in his eyes, he was certainly enjoying it.

In one smooth motion, he turned them over, laying her down on his bed. She grabbed him before he could pull back, bringing him down with her for another blisteringly hot kiss, and he went with no resistance to speak of. Not content to confine her hands to his hair, she let them wander all over the expanse of his body, paying him back in kind as much as she could. His arms, his shoulders, his back, his ass–oh dear gods, his ass, how in any of the nine realms could anyone have an ass that perfect–until eventually, she reached his cock, which jumped as she wrapped her fingers around it, giving it a few slow, languid pumps. In her arms, he shuddered, moaning so deep in his chest she felt it vibrate through her body. He shifted, and his hips accidentally rocked up against hers in the most perfect angle.

It was enough to break her self-imposed silence, and she gasped, sharp and broken.

When he did it again, she realized it was no accident.

“You motherf–”

Percy kissed the curse out of her mouth, leaving her breathless. Like a man possessed, he threw himself back down onto her body, kissing and licking and sucking and touching a path towards her cunt, and she was almost paralyzed at the pleasure of it all.

When he reached her stomach, she finally had collected enough oxygen to ask, “So, how am I doing?”

He lifted his head, blinking at her uncomprehendingly. “Huh?”

“In bed. How am I doing? How do I measure up to the nai–”

A bite, and she gasped. “What did I say about comparing yourself to them?” he asked, and followed it up with another bite, this time on her thigh. “It's really not fair to them.”

“What?” she gasped. She almost hadn’t heard him over the ringing in her ears.

He pulled back, and looked up at her. And she felt more then watched as one of his sword calloused fingers moved to trace along her knee, where she had a scar. It wasn’t a battle scar. Not even from training. When she had been little, she’d fallen down while ice skating and ended up cutting her knee on a branch resting on the lake.

“Have you ever had sex with a nature spirit?”

She blinked at him, the gears furiously turning in her head at this break in sensation. Annabeth was a person who could count her sexual experiences on one hand, and reached a peak exactly none of those times. It was fairly well known that water and plant spirits tended towards women, especially around camp. Though she might have been closer to bi than straight, Percy Jackson didn’t know that. She didn’t exactly want to share all of this with him, either. So she shook her head.

He sat a little further back, which was not really the action she wanted him to do, but she was more desperate for him to explain than she was to complain.

“They’re so perfect,” was the only answer he gave her, looking at her face, and then back at the scar on her knee, brushing it with his fingers, and then petting a little lower down her leg.

With an unsexy twist to her stomach, she realized he was looking at the leg hair. “Sorry.”

He looked up at her again, frowning, before placing a kiss on the scar. “You’re not listening,” he said again. “They’re perfect. They’re some sort of weird ideal. Everything is smooth and perfect, like it was carved from marble based on some platonic ideal of a woman.”

“Because that’s so reassuring.”

Percy placed another kiss on her thigh. “And fucking marble is like fucking anything platonically.” He sighed, just the barest shade of world-weariness peeking out from behind his careful facade. “There's nothing there. Not really. No flaw. No evidence of fighting. No humanity.” He grasped at her thigh, where another set of stretch marks lay. “They can't have anything like this. Because they can’t grow and change. “ He smirked at her, and the world settled back into balance a little. “Their asses certainly don’t turn red when I give them a good smack.”

You could probably power a small country with the heat coming off her face. She should talk to Jake about developing a new, renewable energy source out of this. But still, something nagged at her.

Apparently, he could tell. “What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning.

“I know you’ve…” She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat, blocking the words from coming out.

He sat back on his haunches, hands gently resting above her knees. “What is it?”

“I’m…”

Some kind of understanding flickered in his eyes, and he pulled his hands back. “Okay. We don’t have to do anything–”

“Percy.” She shot her hand out and grabbed his before he could get too far away. “That’s not what I want.”

“Look, if you’re feeling weird about this, we can stop right now–”

Shaking her vehemently, she tugged on his arm to bring him back to her, but he wouldn’t budge. “I’m not feeling weird, I promise. I mean,” she tilted her head, considering, “I am, but not about–about you.”

He softened, just a hair. “Then what is it?”

Sighing, she looked down at his hand, twining their fingers together. “You’ve done this a lot, right?”

A pause. “Well, yeah. I mean, mostly with the naiads. But yeah. I’ve… done it a few times,” he said, sheepish.

“Okay, well, I haven’t.”

His eyes widened. “Never?”

“Not never,” she clarified. “Maybe once or twice. But never with someone I actually…”

The air grew tense, like a wave about to hit. Percy spoke, hushed, like they were in a temple, instead of his bed. “Someone you actually…?”

Swallowing again, she flicked her eyes back up to him. He was still, like a shark, poised and ready to strike. In the dim light, he looked even more handsome, his black hair thrown into disarray by her fingers, his lips swollen and kiss-bruised, his thumb gently stroking against her palm.

“Someone I actually like,” she finished, barely more than a puff of hair.

His eyes fluttered closed, and he bent over, laying his head on her stomach. “You don’t even know,” he said into her skin, voice strained almost to breaking. “You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”

Before she could even begin to parse what he had just said, he returned to his earlier task of learning her body with his mouth, but with a renewed vigor. Or maybe a new frenzy would be a better way to put it. He held her hips firmly with his hands, shoving them down every time she so much as twitched as he attacked her cunt with lips, teeth, and tongue, feasting on her like she was his last meal. Overcome by this sudden onslaught, she could do little more than hang on for dear life, fisting her hands in his sheets, and soon, she found herself racing perilously close to the edge again.

“Per–” she gasped as he sucked on her, “Percy, I–”

But he would not be stopped. Fastening his lips to her labia, he lavished stroke upon stroke upon her, his nose bumping up against her clit in a way that made stars burst in her eyes, and then, all of a sudden, she had tipped over the cliff.

The cabins were supposed to be pretty soundproofed, but there was no way the whole camp didn’t just hear her scream like that. Hopefully they thought it was just a harpy or something.

Panting, almost dizzy, she lay there, attempting to gather her bearings, while Percy kissed his way back up her body, stopping at every waymark he had left on her skin, each bite and nip and freckle, pulling her down from the heavens until she fell back into her body, trembling from the force of her orgasm. There was something in her ear, and it took her a few extra seconds to put together that Percy was speaking to her.

“You’re so amazing, so beautiful, so hot,” he babbled, kissing up and down her neck, “you are the most amazing woman, I can’t believe I finally get to have this, gods, Annabeth–”

Turning her head with only a little difficulty, she cut him off, her lips apparently proving too tempting for him to not kiss.

She couldn’t stand hearing those words coming out of his mouth. Not from someone who, in just a month, would in all likelihood be–

His knuckles brushed over her sensitive clit, and she jumped, about to refuse, because she simply could not handle a third mind-bending fingering tonight, but he just grunted in apology. Instead of his hands, then, she felt the soft, smooth tip of his cock, bumping up against her opening. She shivered, breath stuttering in her chest. “Please,” she mumbled, “please, please, please–”

He slipped in, a smooth, agonizing motion, which sent her eyes rolling into the back of her head. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, fingers digging into the skin, and it took her a moment to realize that the high, keening sound she heard was coming from her.

His arms pulled her in even tighter, and with a sigh, he began to move.

Annabeth had had sex before. Both times before had been lackluster, uninspiring events, where the guy had clearly learned all of his techniques from porn, jackhammering away at her vagina without really knowing what he was doing. She figured being with Percy, with his long and storied history, would probably make for a much more notable experience. But she was completely unprepared for just how much better it could be.

He rocked her like the tide, a slow, steady, insistent movement which set her nerves sparking from top to bottom. Pleasure lapped at her from every side, washing over her in waves, while Percy’s body kept her anchored, one hand against her back, the other curling about her neck. She could feel as he dug his knees into the mattress, could feel the corded muscles in his thighs as he moved in her, traced the shifting muscles of his back with her fingertips, and she couldn’t help but let out a long, broken moan. “Percy,” she gasped, “I–I–oh–”

He didn’t respond, only kissed the corner of her lips, open-mouthed and sloppy. Then he pulled away, and she almost whined at the loss of contact.

“So, how is it?” He asked her, with barely more than a puff of air.

“What?” She had no idea what he could mean. Why was he asking her questions at a time like this, if the answer was anything other than “more”?

He grinned. “Having sex with someone you actually like?”

She rolled her eyes. Or she would have, if he hadn’t given her a particularly satisfying thrust that made her legs twitch. It was hard to think straight, because, really, it was amazing, but she shot back anyway, “How is it having sex with someone actually human?”

“I told you,” he said, and his grin dropped, just a little, “you are so much better than a thousand naiads together could hope to be.” He let out a breath, and then grasped her torso, and with a force she definitely knew he had but hadn’t seen outside of the training grounds, rolled them over, leaving her on top. A position she’d never tried before. “And now,” he said, twirling a curl around his finger, “I want to see it from a different angle.”

Momentarily, she was overcome by the sudden shift in sensation. Under him, it hadn’t been bad, of course, but compared to the fingering of a lifetime, it hadn’t quite measured up as of yet. Now, she needed a second to get used to the feeling of him inside of her all over again. From this vantage point, he seemed bigger somehow, filling her every nook and cranny, the intensity crashing on her like a wave.

Below her, he smirked, somehow reading her mind. “Good?”

Well, if he wanted to be like that, fine. She could wipe that stupid grin off his face.

Her own face was bright red, she was sure, but she was determined not to lose this rematch. What was the point of core workouts and leg days anyways if she never put them to some use?

Gritting her teeth, she tightened her legs around him, pleased at the stutter in his breath. She rose up, hissing at the slick slide of his cock inside her, the drag of sparks which shot up through her spine, and her fingers trembled on his shoulders as she lowered herself back down. Then she did it again. And again. And again. Beneath her, Percy’s chest moved with the controlled force of his breath, his hands flexing on her hips. Biting her lip, she shifted forward an inch–and cried out as the new angle made it so he pressed up against a spot which made her eyes cross.

“Oh, gods,” he groaned, head thrown back. “Oh, fuck–Annabeth, gods.”

She liked that. She liked that very much.

And this, she thought as she began to ride him. She liked this very much, too.

Over and over, she struck down on that spot inside her, and eventually, she couldn’t stay silent. Each thrust down startled a moan out of her, climbing higher and higher until you could practically keep time with it. Percy writhed below her, panting, his stomach flexing rhythmically, until he could no longer stand it and surged up, crushing her to his chest, and set about to fucking her.

His cock stabbed up into her at the same, torturous pace, making her see stars, her moans swallowed up by the press of his mouth on hers. She could feel the muscles of his strong arms bulging, burning like brands across her back. Tearing his lips away, he kissed a meandering path to her ear, and asked, mumbling, “Is this–unh–is this good? Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes,” she gasped, jolting as he nibbled on her earlobe. “Yes, Percy!”

“Tell me.”

“Fuck, it’s so good–ah…”

“Tell me you want me–please.” He kissed her jaw, slurring the word into her skin, the movement of his hips sloppier and sloppier.

There was no cockiness in his tone, no jokes. No self-satisfied smugness. Only desperation. A desperation to please her.

“I–want–Percy–touch me–”

And like a seasoned sailor navigating the stars, his fingers found her clit–and she was done.

Boneless, she flopped in his arms, her arms around his neck the only thing keeping her from toppling off him as he chased the last of his pleasure within her. With a broken, wrecked noise, he squeezed her impossibly tighter, his hips stuttering beneath her as he buried his face into her shoulder, gasping for air. He shook, his body seizing around her and in her, and she couldn’t help but echo his cry at it, the current of feeling dragging her back down into the depths. Submerged in it, surrounded by it, she clutched at his shoulders, riding the last lingering shockwaves of electric pleasure that skittered through her body.

Slowly, agonizingly, he relaxed around her, a gradual release of pressure. But he didn’t release her, falling back instead with her still in his arms.

“Damn.” She felt him more than heard him, a soft sigh which vibrated under his sternum and into her. “Damn.”

She grunted in agreement.

Time slipped away as she lay there, sprawled out on the bed of his body, resting her head on his chest, keeping the minutes only by the furious pounding of his heart against her ear as it slowed down, as they both came down from the skies together. Apparently unable to keep his hands off her even after sex, he twirled her hair around his finger, the gentle tug keeping her grounded. It could have been hours until she managed to scrape together the energy to raise her head to look at him. He was looking at her, a soft, shiny glow behind his eyes. “That was nice,” she said, hoarse.

The corner of his lips quirked up. “Oh yeah? We should do this again sometime.”

Laughter bubbled up out of her, and he followed suit, the movement jostling her body. “Ugh,” she winced, gently pulling off of him. ��I’m going to feel that in the morning.”

“In a good way or a bad way?”

She flopped down beside him, sending him a grin. “I’ll let you decide.”

“Come back,” he pouted. “I want to cuddle.”

“Never would have pegged you for a cuddler.” She shifted into him with little hesitation, humming as his hands took up residence in her hair again. “Doesn’t that kind of ruin your heartbreaker reputation?”

“I love cuddling.” He brushed his knee up against hers, sliding his arm beneath her head. “And I don’t get to nearly as often as I would like.”

“Naiads aren’t big on post-coital snuggles?” The thought made her inexplicably happy.

“Imagine trying to cuddle a person-shaped jellyfish.”

She frowned. “Wriggly? Squishy?”

“Hard to hold. The sea doesn’t like to be restrained, you know.”

“Or the lake, in this case.”

He huffed a laugh. “I guess.”

She could have responded, but there wasn’t much she could say that wasn’t horribly rude to the water spirits, so she let them fall into companionable silence instead. And it was companionable. Percy gently carded his fingers through her hair, and she drew aimless patterns on his chest with her finger, lines and angles which slowly formed themselves into letters: alpha, nu, alpha, beta, epsilon–

Percy stilled beneath her. “Oh, shit.”

“What? What is it?”

He sat bolt upright, staring down at her. “You don’t…” he swallowed, color rising to his face. “You don’t happen to be on birth control, do you?”

“...Excuse me?”

Groaning, he fell back, hands over his face. “We didn’t use any protection.”

“...Oh, shit.” You know, she did feel damper than usual down there.

Without thinking, she snaked a hand down, swiping a finger through herself, and brought it back up, observing.

Yup. That was definitely semen.

Well.

She was pretty sure Will had some Plan B squirreled away somewhere in their stores.

Suddenly, she was very aware of Percy looking at her.

Studiously ignoring his gaze, she popped her finger in her mouth, licking it clean, and he made a noise like he had been stabbed.

“Di immortales,” he wheezed. “You’re trying to kill me.”

Pleasure stirred in her, purring like a cat, but she decided to ignore it. For now. “So, are you always this lax with protection with the naiads, too? Are we going to see an influx of little Percys in nine months?”

“There better not be.”

“Would a condom even work with a naiad?” she wondered aloud, more to herself than anything, but Percy shook his head.

“It wouldn’t. But there won’t be any mini-mes running around.”

“How do you know?”

He gulped, audibly. “I, uh… I made them swear not to have my children.”

Raising an eyebrow, she shot him a look. “You made them promise? Really?” Like that would do anything. Nature spirits were flighty and impulsive by nature. So kind of like demigods, really.

“No, I mean…” His gaze turned up, suddenly very interested in the wooden ceiling beams. “I made them swear on the Styx.”

“...Oh.”

“Yeah. I didn’t–I didn’t want…” He trailed off. Annabeth’s mind rushed to fill in the blanks. The responsibility? The burden? The hope? “I didn’t want to leave someone behind. Who didn’t know their father.”

Annabeth couldn’t respond. Her heartbeats ticked by like seconds, counting down to his birthday.

He coughed. “Um, yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“And–and also, I wouldn’t want them to use any potential kid of mine as a bargaining chip, either. You would not believe how complex undersea politics can get.”

A bargaining chip? “For what?”

He shrugged. “Power. Bragging rights. Marriage.”

Her brain short-circuited. “Is… that something you want?”

He looked at her for several long moments. “Not with a Naiad from the camp lake who settled for Poseidon’s son when she would rather fuck Poseidon instead.” He looked at her. And somehow there was more to it than when he had been inside her. “But I’m not opposed. To the concept of marriage. In general.”

She couldn’t–she couldn’t think about that. “Well, clearly that’s not what I’m here for.”

He raised a dark eyebrow, the edges of his devil-may-care smirk pulling on his lips. “Oh?”

“Come on,” she said, lightly shoving him. “You think I’d be interested in marrying you?”

The words dropped between them, as heavy as a stone in water.

She cleared her throat. “I mean, I didn’t fuck you to have your baby, either.”

“Uh huh.”

“I mean, I don’t want to fuck or marry your dad!”

“I think your mom would disown you if you did.”

“Stop being a seaweed brain,” she said, “I’m trying to say something nice.”

“By all means.” He was smirking again. Right this second, maybe it wasn’t annoying, maybe it made him look roguish and handsome.

“I like you. And not because you're the son of Poseidon. But because you’re Percy Jackson.”

It was true that the power he held, the strength and skill, flowed from the same source as his father. But it wasn’t Percy’s ability to control the waves that enchanted her. It was that he had that power, and he used it. But he also helped little twelve year old campers with sword stances, and made messy evil eye charms in the arts and crafts tent to give to homesick kids. He could be both.

And that gentleness, that caring nature, was not something she saw reflected in Poseidon.

“Oh.” He said again, but he looked a little less cocksure, “So… what…”

“I mean… It's not like all that power isn’t hot. But lots of people have power. You know when to use it,” she said. “And when to be kind. Or take a step back.” Or let her have her say. Let her offer her opinion, and then take it into consideration. It was so much hotter than just having strength.

He grinned, slanted and shit-eating, even if it was a little shaky. “Hotter, really?”

Fuck, she hadn’t meant to say that part out loud.

“Really,” she said, trying to keep the embarrassment off her face. At this point, it was probably already too late, though.

Apparently satisfied, he let the topic drop, sparing her the humiliation of explaining herself further. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty tired, and it’s getting pretty late…” He trailed off, meaningfully.

Oh. Well. She supposed that was her cue. Sitting up, she swung her legs over the side, only for Percy to reach out and grab her hand.

“Where are you going?”

“To my cabin? You just said it was late–”

“I was trying to imply that you should stay. Here.” He turned those eyes on her, brimming with equal amounts hope and apprehension. “With me.”

Oh. That was… “That’s against the rules,” she said, carefully. Guarded. Gauging.

“...Yeah.” His shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Still. “...Maybe we could… meet up tomorrow? I mean,” she forced a laugh, “I still owe you a blowjob, right?”

For a long, drawn out moment, he didn’t answer her, only rubbing his thumb against the side of her palm. And then, softly, muted, like he was speaking underwater, he said, “Right. Yeah. We can–we can meet up tomorrow.”

He didn’t sound very confident. But he let her go all the same.

In short order, she had slipped into the bathroom, quickly re-dressing herself, and now lingered at the door to his cabin, wondering how best to say goodbye. It seemed as though he hadn’t moved at all, still lounging nude on his sheets, his perfect bronzed form exposed to the open air, arms drawn up and behind his head, his brooding gaze fixed firmly somewhere above him. “Well,” she said, entirely out of words. “Good night.”

“Night.”

She waited a heartbeat more, then slipped out the door, shutting it quietly behind her.

They’d see each other tomorrow. They’d both agreed to it.

If she had her way, they’d see each other every day for the rest of their lives. But they didn’t have the rest of their lives. She only had until the end of the war. Only the rest of his life.

Eyes suddenly hot, she swiped at them furiously, and began making her way back to her cabin.

Tomorrow, then. She’d make tomorrow count.

…And she would make sure to stop by the infirmary tomorrow morning, too.

#my fic #pjo fic #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #perseannabeth #for mari bc i love her sm!!!

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neep-neep-neep · 5 months

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Please enjoy my first ever Forspoken mix! Please note it's not the 4 CDs of the expanded original soundtrack I ordered from Japan and miraculously received in 3 days. It's regular music that makes me think of this much maligned heartwarming single player adventure that people will unfortunately find to be the last good thing Square Enix publishes for the forseeable future and its misunderstood and relatable main character and it's yours! I'm only a little late for the holidays~

Forspoken mix

SkyBlew - Parent's Day Stromae - Papaoutai Kendrick Lamar - Money Trees [feat. Jay Rock] [Explicit] B.o.B - New York New York [Explicit] Sam Tsui - Gold Jacket Lil Nas X - STAR WALKIN' (League of Legends Worlds Anthem) [Explicit] Jay Rock - Pay for It (feat. Kendrick Lamar & Chantal) [Explicit] NF - Let You Down DJ Khalil Feat. Denzel Curry, YBN Cordae, SwaVay & Trevor Rich - Elevate Mega Ran - The Promised Land Kendrick Lamar - Real [feat. Anna Wise] [Explicit] Random - Final Battle Feat. Loose Becky G - BUEN DIA

please listen to it in this order even if the .m3u file didn't export correctly i really thought about how different songs suit different parts of the story

#forspoken #music #frey holland #i put the hardest shit i own into this for you #songs to save a world to #love u all! <3

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daddyplasmius · 1 year

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okay, so, I've collected a bunch of DP fandom stuff that I remember off the top of my head, specifically in chronological order & colour coded here in this post (fics/comics, tumblr posts, important imo) for no reason other than I saw a post asking for Phandom history & it triggered my biggest, most long-running hyperfixation & now I'm curious if anyone else remembers stuff.

this link is going to be the permanent version I will be updating, but I'm posting what I currently have (gonna go through my old laptop later for more) just to let people know. you can also find the link on my blog, but only on desktop. It isn't colour coded there, sorry.

please share more if you got anything else cuz I'm 100% sure I'm missing a lot of stuff & am too interested now. the biggest reason a lot of stuff isn't here is that I simply can't find it. second biggest reason is i forgor. things not included here aren't "unimportant," this is just the first stuff that comes to mind.

putting it under a cut 'cause it got kinda long

Mars by JadeRabbyt (2005)

Checkmate by pearl84 (2006)

Conversations of a Ghost Gabber by Cordria (2006)

The Foley Maneuver by bluemoonalto (2007)

One Thousand Years by Nylah (2008)

Lab Rat by AnneriaWings (2009)

Lost by Cordria (2010?) [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Phantom of Truth by Haiju (2011)

Ghost Deaths (2012)

Through Coals and Rain by Kakawot (2012)

Shadow of a Doubt by Haiju (2013)

Pink Pants (2013?)

Wes (2014) [original] [1] [2] [3] [4]

this "I'm Inevitable" gif (2014)

Space AU (2014)

Treading Water by The Full Catastrophe (2014)

Danny, you dead IDIOT!! comic (2014)

wash away the darkest days by anthrop (2014)

Reverse Trio (2014)

Inverse Trio (2014-2016) ALT

Halfas are "feral children" (2015)

Burn the Streets, Burn the Cars by anthrop (2015)

It's Not Gay if He's Dead by phantomrose96 (2015)

You Smell Like Death by starfleetrambo (2015)

Ghost Bird AU by @rest-in-peachs (2016?)

Things I Can(not) Do In Amity Park by RedHeadsRock1010 (2016)

KEtTLE by Cordria (2016)

Deeper, Darker by Silvermoonphantom (2016)

Danny Phantom Punches Butch Hartman In The Face by MistressVintage (2017)

Dannypocalypse (2017)

Ghost Train (2017?)

Ghost Physics by jayrockin (2017)

Ghost Infographics (2018)

The Taxonomy of Ghost Cores: An Observational Study (2018) Communicating with Ghosts Professionally: A Study (2018)

Species in Danny Phantom (2018?)

Diddles Piddles by diddly-darn-ghost (2018)

Broken Ectoplasm by ghostanimal (2019)

Ghost of Heroes by Enigmaris & ScarletNightFury (2019-2020)

do not stand at my grave and cry (i am not there, i did not die) by blueh (2020)

Undercover Phantom by artistfingers (2021)

Corruption is a Two Way Street by datawyrms (2021)

Things That Bleed by artistfingers, kkachis, & Perfectly_Inconspicuous (2022)

10,000 works on AO3 (2022)

Ghost Speak:

Danny's handwriting (2015?)

Cordria (2015)

Fiver-Rivers [1] [2] [3] (2019)

Rubber Chicken Sounds (2019)

#Danny Phantom #Phandom History Archive #do you even understand how hard it was to find the original Wes post????????#i spent like 2 hours on that alone #Wes Weston why are you so hard to find #just realizing that a lot of shit happened in 2014 #like. 2014/2015 ish #i joined somewhere between 2014 & 2016 so i guess i literally came here right at the peak of phandom activity #the height of tumblr's paranormal activity. you might say #i think i'm just biased though #should i put my own fics on here. Phantom is pretty important to me being my first DP fic #& also the thing that got me back into writing #it's not very good but by god if i dont love it. & anyways i put Bird AU on here lol i think i can put Phantom up at some point. as a treat #also if any links are broken tell me cuz i'm not checking them again. it's 4am #reminder: gotta find those Bird AU fics i read & put em here. there ARE actual Bird AU fics. i know there are. i did not hallucinate that #it just might be the hardest thing on earth to do since that was years ago & i have no idea what they were called #anyway gonna add a fuckton of fics & (hopefully) tumblr posts when i go through my old laptop. i got everything bookmarked on there #like. so many fics. i had them organized too based on what kind of fic it was. but they all have stupid names cuz i was like 15 #me: i should do my stencil art today. just to be a bit productive & also maybe make money #my brain: what if you organized Danny Phantom fandom posts into a big archive for people to look at? for free. until 4am.#me: you know what that sounds so much better let's do that

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doctorweebmd · 9 months

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I was thinking about this the other day and wondering why it’s become so much less fun to write for BNHA and I think it’s because… I’ve written too much?

Like being a one-off author was fine and fun and novel and people were so cool and supportive, but now I’ve got multiple long fics and people have started treating me like someone that “creates content” rather than someone who is writing for fun. And I’ve shot myself in the foot by continuing to write long-fic and putting my heart and soul into them and it’s like never enough, people just expect more and more and more and I want to keep giving and keep doing better but no matter what I write it’s just not ENOUGH

And like… this started a little after I finished Zero Sum Game but like… people have started forming “opinions” that they share openly about “me” - I can’t stand going into fandom space and seeing people say they can’t read anything I write, or they don’t like me as an author, openly ranking my works, saying xyz is overrated or mention me by name in shipping discourse or send me hate mail or update requests or just straight up telling me they’re not going to read what I write anymore… and these people don’t know me!!! I’m just an empty space to them!!! Just a machine that pumps out thousands on thousands of words to just look at an forget about instantly!!!!!!!!

Where do people get off honestly. Is it like this everywhere or is it just BNHA? Is it because it’s so popular that the community has broken down completely? Sincerely what the fuck how can anyone treat writers like this…

#literally got a comment like yesterday saying ‘I’m so disappointed this hasn’t been updated in a year! I need it’#…fuck you actually?#I realize fics take 1-2 days to read #but all of this has taken hundreds of hours and YEARS to write #but sorry I don’t have the specific thing that you want to readily consume I guess #I am! not! a! content! creator!#nobody pays me! I get nothing out of this! why are people treating me like not a person!#and it’s just more and more frustrating seeing other writers mention stuff like this too #I realize I’m just venting now but whatever #like i feel like I built something over the past few years that I’m so proud of #but sometimes I want to burn it ALL to the ground #it’s not that deep #it’s just… I put too much of myself into this #which honestly is mostly my own fault #ANYWAY. that’s a big part as to why I’m jumping ship for now #I’d rather have fun and write whatever and have no one give a shit #than to give my heart and soul to a community that chews me up and spits me out #…. sorry I’m being so dramatic #the amazing wonderful kind people that have stayed around for these 3.5 years who still say kind words to me I love you so much #as always the negativity is the vast minority but that’s what hits the hardest I guess #I mean honestly I don’t care and will continue to write and do whatever I want #but wanted to reflect on my frustrations and make sense of it #.

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caustic-krana · 2 years

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Fucking kill me man. I was walki g back to my truck from 7-11 and I climbed into the slidedoor to eat then I realized I tracked dog poop into the van…. and sat on it💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

#no you don’t understand #my manager was on vacation last week #so the bozo manager who did my schedule put me in FUCJING DOWNTOWN ON AN EVENING ROUTE #which is already considered the hardest area on its own #(hostile terrain)#and ON TOP of that #I’m riding elevators up skyrises with other people all day long #20-30 floors man #AND I REEK LIKE DOG SHIT!!!!!!!!!!#this happened only like a 5th of the way trhough my route

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faexoxoxoxo · 4 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓...

ᓚᘏᗢ basketball player gojo x reader x basketball player geto.

✎⁠ 18+, overstimulation, pure filth, smuttt...

✎⁠ dividers by @cafekitsune

It was simple, really.

Suguru loved you, Satoru loved you, and they both wanted to see you wearing a jersey that had their name on it during the teams basketball tournaments.

Again, simple. They could've worked out a schedule and taken turns having you wear the names. Heck, you even offered to customize a new jersey with both their names on it, but nooo, like everything else in life, your boyfriends just had to make a bet about this.

Whoever made you cum the hardest got to have you wear their jersey.

~~~

“Aww, look at your pretty pussy, baby. filled her up real good, huh? Such a greedy little hole...”

God, you wished you could smack the proud grin off Satoru's face, but right now, with his head between your thighs, long tongue dipping into your weeping, overstimulated, cum filled pussy, all that came out of you was a broken string of soft whimpers and moans, twisting and turning as Satoru coxed you over the edge for the third time.

You tried to squirm away, but they wouldn't let you. Suguru had a firm grip on your legs, keeping them wide open, while Satoru seemed drunk of your juices and his own cum, hungrily lapping at everything you had, refusing to let a single drop of it go to waste.

Turning your head, your dazed eyes met Suguru's silently pleading with him to tell Satoru to back off, to put an end to this little game of theirs, but all you got in return was a smile. The smug bastard was enjoying this; it was obvious, with the growing strain in his pants and a barely noticeable flush on his face. It came as no surprise, really; you already knew how much Suguru loved watching you get ruined by Satoru.

“Hmm, What's wrong, princess? Satoru's not pleasing you enough?” Suguru cooed, wiping the drool off your lips with his fingers as you sucked in a deep breath.

“Ahhh...S...Suguru...no more…”

They really needed to stop; you'd pass out if they kept on making you cum...

“Nuh uh, baby, I plan to win this” Suguru laughed. Your teary eyed, fucked out expression, coupled with the plea, was enough to make him rock hard, “not about to let you wear this idiot's jersey tomorrow,” giving a harsh slap to your thigh and making you gasp, his grin widened, hand now moving to pull Satoru's head away from your cunt.

“Hey!” Satoru groaned, “Fuck you, man, everyone knows I'm the strongest.” cussing the black haired man as he’s pushed aside.

“Right, right,” Suguru mocked his playmate, flipping you onto your back, “now be a good boy and lemme show you how it's really done.”

Without warning, he'd filled you up, with one hard swift thrust, hips slamming against your ass as he ferociously rutted into your weeping cunt, “My dirty little slut” Suguru grunted as you sobbed into the pillows.

"Sugu…ahhhh…noo can't…slow," you mewled back, arching instinctively as his cock kept on hitting the sensitive spot that made your brain turn to mush, “need to cum... Sugu...please, please, please, lemme cum.” You babbled, starting to feel the familiar coil building up inside your tummy.

“Yea? Gonna cream around daddy, and make him win...” Suguru taunted menacingly, angling himself to hit your sweat spot over and over again, while making eye contact with Satoru, who'd begun moaning while fisting his own hard, reddened cock.

“Yes, yes, yes…” you chanted fervently, toes curling as you moaned out little yeses and pleases. He'd done it again, Suguru’s dick always managed to reduce you into nothing more than a brain dead cock slut.

"Fuck...go on then,” he breathed, voice raspy and deep a sign that he was close too. “Lets show Satoru what a good girl you are for me.”

Your body quivers. Feeling Suguru throbbing inside your tightening pussy, you let out a soundless scream before coming all over his cock.

The sight was enough to have Satoru fall over the edge. “Shit... princess,” he groaned, looking at you through hooded eyes, as his cum spilled onto the bed and his abs in hot spurts. “Now I get why this asshole loves watching me fuck you.”

Chuckling, Suguru pulled you closer to his chest, keeping on fucking you ruthlessly through your high, making you whimper. “Gonna fill you up so much; you'll be leaking for days, princess,” he let out a long groan, his head falling back, thrusts growing hard and slow until he finally stilled inside you, his hot load filling you up to the brim as promised, his dark violet eyes meeting Satoru's sparkling blue ones.

“Damn it.” Satoru swore knowingly, he never liked admitting defeat, but Suguru'd won this round with his dick game. Well, no matter, this just meant he'd have to try harder again next time...

✎⁠ I've always done character x reader, and this is my first attempt at character x reader x character so don't know how well I wrote it but hope you guys enjoyed...

✎⁠ likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated⁠ ♡

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chisatowo · 1 year

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Oh fuck it's Tali's bday I nearly completely forgot I'm so sorry Tali also happiest bday 2 you

#rat rambles #oc posting #eternal gales #idk if Im gonna be able to draw bday art for her for a variety of reasons but let it be known that she means the god damn world to me #I wont go into the full tali spiel again but just. fuck man she has been such a comfort throughout some of the hardest periods of my life #shes also by far one of the characters whos changed the most from the begining especially in design #her current design is like so SO far from her old design in nearly every regard #some of it is just cause she and aris werent sisters at the time but its also just that it was ugly as fuck and I hated it fjgjdjfkf #fydd was technically the first character who I did a full design overhual on but tali was my first step into being willing to actually #change shit in the rest of the cast even if I didnt technically need to in some cases #and lemme tell you I am so much happier with tali's current design its insaine #but yeah tali just. means a whole lot to me and Im so happy I made her. so much of my own joy and pain and love and triumpth was put in her #and she also just has so much of her own stuff that makes me wanna start biting ppl /pos #and also shes acearo which inherently makes her the best one <3

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erwinsvow · 3 months

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𝐫𝐜 - 𝟐:𝟑𝟏𝐚𝐦

rafe’s phone goes off with a little noise, and he sets his laptop aside to find the device, buried beneath the sheets. when he picks it up, your name and the little emojis you had selected to put next to your contact light up the screen. there’s one concise text: are you up? can’t sleep

instead of texting back, he hits the call button and waits for it to ring. you answer within the first one, which is something of a habit when rafe calls you.

“hello?” you say quietly into the phone, trying your hardest to not make too much noise. everyone else in your house was still asleep.

“why’re you still up?” rafe asks, and though you know he’s not mad, just worried, he sounds mad.

“i told you, i can’t sleep. why are you still up?”

“i’m always up at this time.”

“that’s not good. doing what? are you with your other girl?” you laugh at your own joke, but you know rafe isn’t, since that’s his least favorite joke.

“shut up. what—did’ya have a coffee before bed? i said to quit that shit.”

“no!” you whine, louder than you realized. you go silent, hoping no one heard you. “it’s just one of those nights. and you’re not here, that doesn’t help.”

you expect some other comment from rafe, telling you to shut up and shut your eyes because he was busy with work and being proactive like he always is. you brace for it, already smiling. rafe is silent for longer than you thought he would be.

“i’m sorry, baby. i’ll be there tomorrow night, alrigh’?” your smile dissipates, shoulders sinking with an odd sense of relief and your body falling further into your warm bed. you don’t know why your eyes are watery—maybe because you didn’t think rafe would say something so sweet. your boyfriend is a lot of things—funny without trying, possessive to a fault, dominant to his bones—but he’s not always sweet like this.

“still there? or you finally fall asleep?”

“still here. sorry, rafe.” you yawn, the first one in hours.

“go to bed, kid. it’s too late to still be up.”

“i’ll sleep if you sleep.”

“m’not done with-”

“please,” you say softly, followed by another yawn.

“fine. but sleep, now. seriously. it’s two-fucking-thirty, got no reason to still be up.”

he mumbles some other stuff but you don’t catch it, getting comfortable and setting rafe on speaker with the quietest volume. you hear the unmistakable sound of rafe’s laptop closing, the switch of his lamp, the rustle of him getting under the covers. you close your eyes and imagine him staring up at the ceiling like you were just doing.

“ready, rafe?” you murmur, already half asleep.

“yeah, kid. goodnight.”

you’re out before you can even say goodnight back. rafe laughs at his phone, opening his laptop back up.

#needed soft rafe <3 #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #trying out a new idea with time frames and little drabbles.. send a time and a concept if you wanna be surprised!! <3 #time series

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gay-dorito-dust · 3 months

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Imagine Jason or Dick being jealous or pissed over Damian being a thirdwheel/cockblocked unintentionally with their gf lmao

That would be a funny sight to see. To make it worse, their gf loves spending time with Damian, viewing him as a smol tsundere cat-looking child that they want to kiss or nuzzle his cheeks whenever he's present lol. Of course with his consent.

Jason felt as though Damian had it out for him sometimes…

He couldn’t explain why as during the times that he did interrupt a sweet moment regarding you and him, they were few and far between for Jason to think that Damian was doing this coincidentally, but it happened too many times for him to count on one hand for it to not be apart of some grander scheme of his.

You however disagreed with that statement but Jason called you out on your bias towards his younger brother, meaning that your opinion was invalid.

You warned him that you wouldn’t cuddle him for a week if he tried that shit with you again…Jason was quick to concede to your demands because he honestly couldn’t live without your cuddles. But that didn’t change the fact that he truly believed that Damian not so secretly had it out for him, and it drove him to near insanity that he couldn’t prove it to you because Damian always acted prim and proper within your presence, clinging to your side from the moment you enter Wayne Manor up until you had to leave; all the wile acting like a demon spawn with him.

‘You feeling sleepy there chipmunk?’ Jason uttered softly upon noticing you trying your hardest to stay awake while mid-way through reading his book.

‘You’re being too comfortable Jaybirdie. I’m naturally going to fall asleep on you eventually.’ You murmured, snuggling closer into him to leech off of his warmth, pushing your head up so that it went from resting on his chest to resting against his shoulder and looking into his eyes. ‘Can I have a kiss?’ You asked. ‘What’s the magic word?’ Jason teased and when you pouted, he only chuckled and rested his forehead against your own, brushing his nose against yours. ‘I’m joking sweetheart, you can have all the kisses you want.’ He speaks lowly against your lips and just when he was about to kiss you, another voice spoke up from across the room.

‘Todd, l/n.’

‘Fucking- Jesus Christ.’ Jason flinched away from you and his eyes settled on Damian, who was stood at the end of the plush couch with a book of his own in hand, and asks. ‘Damian, what’re you doing here?’ You gave Jason a harsh nudge in the side along with a warning glare, only to visibly brightening upon seeing Damian. ‘Hi Damian! Don’t mind Jason he’s being a grump, would you like us to make room for you to sit down?’ Before Damian could get a word out you were already looking towards Jason and he groaned as he begrudgingly shifted to the other side of the couch.

‘Thank you l/n, I don’t know what Todd would be without your influence.’ Damian said as he took his seat in the space made available between you and Jason and cracked open his book that was filled with detailed descriptions of artists such as Claude Monet, John Constable and Jan Van Goyen just to name a few. ‘Unbelievable.’ Jason scoffed, looking anywhere other than you and Damian, impatiently tapping his finger against the arm on the couch for every second that Damian overstayed his welcome.

You however were thriving on the time you got with Damian as he showed you some of his favourite artists, telling you why that was while also information dropping interesting facts about art in general; You weren’t well versed in art and you weren’t claiming that you were but you silently thanked him for putting it into words that you could easily understand without feeling too out of your depth. After all it wasn’t very often that you visited the Wayne Manor but when you did, Damian was often the first -if not only- family member you wanted to see first and foremost.

‘You coddle him too much.’ Jason complained once after seeing you tightly hug Damian upon finding out he had come home from clearing a particularly dangerous mission all by himself. ‘I do not!’ You rebutted, crossing your arms. ‘Uh hate to break it to you chipmunk but you do in fact coddle him.’ Jason insisted, not liking the fact that he now had to share your attention with the little shit. ‘Then let’s ask him then.‘ you looked at your side where Damian was leaning against, minding his own business as he petted Alfred the cat’s black fur while the feline looked close to falling asleep. ‘Damian do I coddle you too much?’

Damian hummed as he looked into Jason’s eyes with a deadpan expression and said. ‘No you don’t, Todd’s just being jealous.’ And just like that he went back to petting Alfred the cat without a care to see the murderous look Jason was shooting him, all the while you were non the wise and were thrilled at the fact that Damian out right admitted to enjoying your company.

‘Isn’t he just the sweetest thing.’ You said to Jason who was gritting his teeth. ‘Oh ain’t he just.’ He spat and Damian smirked as he rested more of himself against you just to hear Jason growl. This was going to be a long weekend.

Dick Grayson didn’t mind Damian joining you at first, he even encouraged it purely out of the idea that Damian would get accustomed to your presence- thinking that it would form a bond between you- but Dick would soon learn that it would ultimately be his undoing.

‘Dick! Stop!’ You squealed as you poor attempts to push him away were dismissed as his hold on you tightened, pulling you further against him as he briefly put a stop to his bombardment of kisses to make a face of thought.

‘Hmmm let me think on that…I don’t think I will.’ He said as he continued to pepper kisses across your face to his heart content, all the while purposefully avoiding kissing your lips much to your growing dismay as you tried to steal at least one kiss from his lips, only to find yourself being unsuccessful in your many attempts.

‘Close but I appreciate a good attempt.’ Dick teased, pressing a kiss to your nose before cutely rubbing his nose against yours and choosing to keep his face close to your own, his lips becoming a smirk. ‘Though if a kiss is what you wanted, all you needed to do is ask and I would’ve happily obliged.’ He chuckled and pulled his face away when you tried to lean in for a kiss. ‘Stop pulling away.’ You whined and Dick couldn’t help but find it infinitely cuter when you tried to reach out to him, only for him to kiss the back of you hand before intertwine your fingers.

‘Then ask me to kiss you.’ He said. ‘Ask me to kiss you and then we’d both be happy.’ He adds on, not wanting to reveal how desperate he was for your sweet, sweet kisses just yet. However fate had other plans for him when Damian burst into the room and you had immeditly pushed Dick off of you so hard that he landed on the hard flooring of his bedroom.

‘Damian!’ You cheered. ‘How’s my favourite Wayne doing today?’

‘Your favourite?’ Dick groaned as he got up, rubbing his aching back as he looked over at the two of you, pouting. ‘I thought I was your favourite.’ Dick felt a little betrayed that you would easily discard him for his younger brother like you did, but knew that you meant nothing by it other then just raw excitement at seeing his younger brother after so long.

‘I’m doing well.’ Damian replied, giving you a small smile as he welcomed your tight hug before looking over at his older brother who looked like a kicked puppy. ‘Still putting up with Grayson and his dramatics?’ You dramatically slumped your shoulders. ‘It might as well be considered my full time job at this point.’ You joked, smiling upon hearing Dick’s gasp of disbelief.

‘I’ll have you know I am a delightful person!’ He defended himself, crossing his arms and looking away from you both. You and Damian shared a look. ‘Yeah a delightful pain in my ass.’ You whispered under your breath as you looked back at Dick while Damian smirked. ‘Are you still pouting?’ You asked.

‘Obviously!’ Dick exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air, ‘tonight was meant to be date night. Our night.’ He said, somehow managing to pout even further as he continued to glare as the opposing wall as though it had personally insulted him just now. ‘I’ll make it up to you so can you please quit with the dramatics.’ You said but Dick didn’t move and only huffed in response, showing that wasn’t good enough for him.

‘Wanna go for a walk Damian? Maybe that’ll help you with the lack of inspiration for your latest art piece?’ You then brought your attention back to the young man with the emerald eyes as he visibly perked up at the offer. ‘I could go for a walk.’ He replied and just before leaving the room he casted his eyes towards Dick. ‘What’s about him?’

‘Yeah what about him.’ Dick said sarcastically from his corner, causing you to look to the ceiling with a disbelieving smile upon your lips. ‘He can come but only on the condition that he stops being pouty.’ You said and for a minute it was silent until you felt a pair of strong arms at your waist and his face buried in your neck. ‘Only if we can go back to our regularly scheduled date night.’ Dick muttered against your skin. ‘Without Damian.’ He adds and you rub your hands over the back of his reassuringly. ‘Certainly my little dickie bird. No need to get jealous of your little brother now. It’s not a good look on you.’ You teased him this time and dick groaned. ‘Only when you stop encouraging his behaviour.’ He said.

You scoffed. ‘Says the one who was all for us having a bond.’

‘And I’ve learnt my lesson.’ Dick retorted. ‘There’s only room for one person in your heart and it’s me and I’m not sharing.’ You cooed as you pressed a kiss to his temple. ‘Careful there, you almost sound possessive.’ You taunted him, having way too much teasing him and giving him a taste of his own medicine.

‘So what if I am?’ Dick asked.

‘Then I’d say that you have nothing to worry about,’ you reassured him, picking one of his hands from your waist and kissing it before allowing it to go back to your waist, ‘you’ll always be my number one dickie bird.’

It was sad that date night didn’t go to plan but by the end of the night you, Dick and Damian were fast asleep on the couch with Dick flat on his back and holding you against his chest, while you held Damian against your chest and Damian cuddling up to the both of you and holding onto you tightly; deathly afraid of letting go but his grip going completely slack upon falling asleep.

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egcdeath · 7 days

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off the beaten path

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

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

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

word count: 18.4k

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

JFK AIRPORT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only because you wanted it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

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

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

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

“You actually don’t, though.”

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

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

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

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

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

BARCELONA, SPAIN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop looking at me,” you demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well… like what you see?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Both of you could play this game.

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

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

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

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

“I’ll come with you,” he insisted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Clearly you fucking did,” you hissed.

“Fuck you,” he huffed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You still loved him.

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

PARIS, FRANCE

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

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

Now, you just felt like an idiot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It is,” he agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not the worst,” he countered.

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

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

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

“Is that what we are now?”

“I never said we were good friends.”

“Frenemies?”

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

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

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

LONDON, ENGLAND

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fun. It’d be better if you came.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you still want one?” Patrick asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s fine. I’ll shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pat?” you squeaked.

“Yeah?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SOMEWHERE IN CENTRAL GERMANY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was annoyingly endearing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, what did you just say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait for me. I’ll come with you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Unfortunately, I do,” you replied.

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

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

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

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

Patrick laughed nervously before asking, “what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, why not,” he said drily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe you should stop clinging to the past.”

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

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

PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

GENEVA, SWITZERLAND

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Trust me, he could care less.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you walk?” your instructor asked you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So what happened?”

“When he proposed?” you asked to clarify.

“...Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m good, I think.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Night.”

SOMEWHERE IN ITALY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s mild.”

“You fucked up your ankle.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? What changed between here and Germany?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he agreed.

VENICE, ITALY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ATHENS, GREECE

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

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

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

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

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

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

ATHENS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

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

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

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

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

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

“It basically was,” you dismissed.

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

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

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

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

#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig fic #art donaldson x reader #challengers #challengers fanfic #josh o'connor x reader

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ffsg0jo · 1 month

Text

tw: grief, death, illness, and angst - i wrote this in like half an hour and i was really in my feels, so pls excuse me if it's bad

uncle sukuna, who's been in and out of jail, is always seemingly in trouble with the law and couldn't give two shits about it. ever since leaving home and his twin brother behind, he's only lived for himself and himself only. he'd be damned if he lets anyone change that.

he receives a voicemail from his brother one day, telling him he's had a little baby boy called yuuji. jin wants to put everything in the past behind them and would love for his brother to meet his precious son. sukuna only scoffs and deletes the voicemail almost immediately.

it's only when jin texts him a video of yuuji (who he's surprised to see almost looks exactly like him, minus all the tattoos) 8 months later babbling what could be interpreted as "papa", does he falter. the kid's adorable, but sukuna isn't ready to face his brother just yet.

many more months go by, and jin seems to have taken the hint. except he gets sent another video, this time on his birthday. he clicks on the video, unable to resist and its yuuji, wobbling on two legs, clapping his hands, and singing his own version of happy birthday (??). he's gotten so much bigger and looks so much like his father.

the only word sukuna recognises from yuujis incoherent nonsense is 'kuna', and his heart softens. he messages back a "cute." and leaves it at that. jin sees the message and doesn't stop smiling for the rest of the day.

jin messages him again a week later, only this time sukuna's heart drops. kaori's dead, and her funeral's next week. he's only met her twice, but she was good for his brother, and she was always good to him too.

he sees his brother for the first time in years at the funeral. jin's hair is a mess, his face unshaven and sunken in; grief seemed to have aged him 10 more years. sukuna's many things, a bad brother included, but something in him breaks when he sees yuuji screaming in his father's arms, not understanding where his mum's gone.

he doesn't know why, but he walks up to jin and offers to take yuuji instead. the toddler immediately calms down in his hold, now more confused as to why there's a man that looks exactly like his dad but with sharpie all over him. jin breaks down, stammering out a thank you, and excuses himself, leaving sukuna alone with his nephew. he'll hunt down his brother later, but for now, he'll keep the brat occupied so his dad can grieve.

sukuna hears from his dad that jin's fallen ill months later. he's speaks to his brother more often now and has even met up with both him and yuuji a couple of times. but jin's never mentioned being sick. he's been looking worse, for sure, but he just put it down to being a single father to an energetic toddler.

he moves in with them the next week. jin keeps getting worse and even little yuuji's noticed.

sukuna tries his best. he really does. he's not been there for jin previously, but he makes sure he's there now when it matters. it's all new to him, caring for people. he tries to cook the most nutritious meals for jin, making sure they're yuuji friendly too. he makes sure the house is always clean, even though yuuji's making a mess every 10 minutes. he changes diapers (both yuuji's and jin's), bathes them both, and tucks them both into bed. he even reads yuuji a bedtime story just to maintain normacly even though he hasnt read since he was a child.

he checks up on jin, constantly seeing if he's feeling okay and gives him his medicine. he holds onto jin with the utmost care (almost carrying him) when they go to visit kaori's grave or when yuuji insists on both of them coming to the park with him. when jin can't sleep at night due to being in excruciating pain, he's there. by his side and holding him. he's never been this affectionate, but he's also never had a dying brother before.

it's still not enough, though. the last couple of days were the hardest, and even yuuji knew enough to be on his best behaviour.

sukuna silently sobs into his pillow at night, when the whole world's asleep. he's filled with regret and hatred for himself, but he knows it's too late now. he tells his brother he loves him and that he promises to take care of yuuji no matter what. jin only smiles, his eyes shining with unshed tears, and tries to kiss his cheek as a thank you, and i love you too.

jin died with one arm holding yuuji, the other holding sukuna's, and his wife's name on his tongue.

sukuna was left all alone, once again. except this time, he had no brother to give yuuji back to. as he promised jin, the stars as his witness, he'd do anything for yuuji and to keep him safe.

his life was no longer his own. he had his nephew to think about.

#🌻.sunspell #why did i cry writing this 😭😭#jjk #jjk writing #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #yuuji itadori #itadori yuuji #jin itadori #itadori jin #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #🌻.uncle sukuna au #uncle sukuna

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youngtacoes · 20 days

Text

Strangers, no more

Cooper Howard aka The Ghoul x f!reader

Author's note: this is a long one !! i've had this scenario in my head for a long ass time and i just had to get it out on paper. cooper isn't as cruel in this one, sorry if that's not your thing, but he can be soft sometimes too! fyi: reader is 18+ and everything is consensual! If you're only here for the smut you can skip toward the end.

Word count: 6,8k

Summary: Cooper is a bounty hunter struggling for caps and you need to be transported safely across the wasteland in "good condition", luckily it pays well. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: 18+ Mentions of r*pe, impregnation & torture, religious cult, angst, virgin!reader, losing virginity, graphic smut

It was getting bad, really damn bad. Days of good-for-nothing bounty jobs, vial after vial, cough attack after cough attack. He needed the caps desperately if he was to keep himself from turning feral anytime soon. He’d been taking small jobs here and there, just enough to keep himself at bay for a few days, but he knew he couldn’t keep going at this rate for much longer. He needed a bigger job, a bigger cash prize, a bigger bounty, but every time he stopped by the wall of people with prizes attached to them, he found himself disappointed in how low the numbers were. That is until he notices a fresh face staring back at him, hidden behind newer posters, large letters displayed across. "BIG JOB", and this one has an even larger number attached.

He steps forward, pushing the other posts away and rips the new face off the wall to study the number closer. Yup, he read it right.

Five thousand caps.

"Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered.

A young girl, maybe in her 20s. She looks well put together, innocent, and has a sincere smile on her face. For the first time in a very, very long time, he found himself wondering what her story was and why she was worth so damn much, but he didn’t like to dwell on it for too long. A job is a job, and this was going to be worth every damn cap.

On the poster, it states that she was to get picked up at the coordinates provided and to keep her in "good condition". Well, shit, that might just be the hardest part. The ghoul had never been one to take care of his captives, and most often he preferred if the poster stated "good dead or alive". This was definitely going to be different, and if it wasn’t for the "good condition" detail, he’d almost think it was too good to be true. Perhaps even think it was a trap.

It’s midnight, and you’re seated by your desk with a pen in hand, drawing carefully and concentrated on making art on this dirty sheet of old newspaper, but it was good enough for you. You drew flowers and insects from an old pre-war book about nature and their hidden treasures. You were always fascinated by the pre-war times, and though you will never know what it was truly like, you liked to imagine who you would’ve been back in those times.

It’s your way of forgetting about the current state of your life and the predicament you found yourself in. You were born in the wasteland, to a mother who did her best to protect you, but in the end, she had been brutally murdered by a group of raiders who attacked your farm, and you were taken captive by them at the age of 9. You spent a few horrid days with them before your current group found you and bought your freedom from them.

To be fair, you’ve been treated quite well by this group, and you thought you had a family in them at one point. That was until a few months ago when they decided you needed to be isolated from the rest for reasons you still didn’t quite understand. The leader of the group, Margot, had carefully selected you for a special assignment, and made sure to tell you the isolation was for your own good. Apparently you needed special treatment before a long journey to a sacred place called Halfway that was waiting for your arrival.

Your fellow peers would come and visit you to show their excitement, though you didn’t quite understand it, it must be something good with all the positive buzz that’s surrounding you. So your head got filled with all sorts of scenarios and dreams of where you were going and what luxuries you were to experience on this assignment. Though you had your doubts that it was all just a coverup for something else, you didn’t have any reason not to trust your group. They had been nothing but kind to you as long as you’d been there.

You’re startled out of your thoughts by heavy knocks on your locked door and a command shouted from behind.

"Lights out!"

You sigh at the command. "Yes madam!"

You don't bother packing up your drawing supplies, you'll be continuing with it tomorrow anyway, and the day after, probably. You find your bed and blow out the nearby candles.

Every night you can't help but wonder when your assignment and journey would begin. You had all sorts of feelings and questions about it, but every time you tried talking to Margot, she would give you answers that didn’t really answer anything at all, so you gave up on trying to figure it out a long time ago.

The next morning you’re awaken rudely by the guards coming into your room and practically dragging you out of bed in your dazed state.

"Wha- HEY-" you try to muster what’s going on, but before even getting a word out, you’re on your feet and Margot stands before you with her hands on her back.

"Morning lucky one. It’s time, the day we have waited long for is finally here," She's so serious in her delivery, it almost frightens you.

It’s happening.

"We’ve hired someone to transport you safely across the wasteland for your assigment, they’re here and won’t be kept waiting. Get ready in 5 and say your goodbyes, quickly."

Suddenly it feels like it’s all happening too fast, and a slight panic rise inside you. Margot must've notices your panicked stare, cause her features soften, and she steps closer to you.

"You’ve come so far, and I’m so proud of you,» She smiles at you with encouragement, "This is your moment, and I know you will succeed and make us all proud."

Her words give you enough to calm down before the panic escalated. And you give her a nod that you indeed got this. You can do this. You’ve done hard things before, this shouldn’t be any different.

"Yes madam," you say smiling back at her. She flashes you one last smile and a wink before turning and walking back out.

Outside you find everyone from your group waiting in the corridors. They smile at you, some coming to greet you, give you kisses on the cheek as you’re led out of the main building by the guards. It’s all a bit much, but this must be pretty big deal. Margot waits for you by the gate to your commune, but she's not alone. A dark figure stands just outside, looking impatient.

You’re filled with scepticism as you walk up them, but you have to put your trust in her. She notices you and takes a hold of your hands with a smile.

"You will do great," And the wave of panic that had a hold of you before, washes off of you completely. You nod confidently now, and you start believing that this is actually gonna be totally fine.

You feel the dark figure moving closer to you, his hat covering his face just enough to keep him anonymous for the time being. He still looks terrifying, but you have to trust this man is here only to protect you on your journey to Halfway, and that he will do his best to do so.

Margot shoots the man one last look, "Good condition," the man still doesn’t show his face, but he nods.

"Yes ma’am. Let’s go princess," You realize he’s talking to you, and you’re startled by the nickname at first, but you decide not to fuzz, at least not yet. He’s already started walking away, so you find yourself running up behind him, waving back to your leader for the last time, only she doesn’t wave back, she doesn’t even flash a smile. She stares back at you with a stern look as the gates to the commune come to a close.

It doesn’t give you the best feeling, but perhaps she was feelings sad you were leaving and didn’t want to show any emotions. Either way, you try to push the sight out of your mind, doing your best to follow the stranger. He doesn’t say a word for a long time, and you find that maybe it’s best we keep to ourselves for the time being, but as an hour or so go by, you find yourself a little curious.

You clear your throat, "Excuse me, sir?"

He doesn’t reply, but shoots a quick look over his shoulder to indicate that he’s listening.

"How long do you think we’ll be walking for?"

Given that Margot had given you absolutely no information about this journey, you figured it was worth a shot to ask your new strange companion.

"Couple’a days, if we don’t get sidetracked," His voice ragged, western, serious.

"Oh," not really sure if you dared asking for further details. You’d prefer to keep it peaceful for as long as possible, but you find the courage to ask anyway.

"Sidetracked by what?"

You hear him sigh, "Unnecessary bullshit."

‘Whatever that means’ you think to yourself. He doesn’t seem like the talkative type, but after months of isolation you find yourself rather desperate for someone to talk to, and if you are to spend days with this man, you figure it’s worth a shot trying to get to know him for whatever time you have to spend together.

"I see.. I’ll be on the lookout for that I suppose."

You can barely believe your ears when you hear a chuckle coming from the stranger in front of you.

After that positive feedback, you find yourself braver.

"I didn’t catch your name?"

His posture changes after the question left your mouth.

"I didn’t give to ya,"

"Well, I’m Y/N, but everyone calls me Lucky. It’s a bit of a recent nickname though. You see, I just spend 6 months in completely isolation-"

You get cut off abruptly when you find yourself crashing into the strangers back, realizing he's come to an complete halt. He turns around, his figure towering slightly over you. His hat is no longer doing it’s job to cover his face, and utter horror washes over you as it's fully visable in the golden hour light.

"Listen sweetheart, I’m here to do this goddamn job. I don’t wanna hear your whole life story, and you sure as hell won’t be hearing mine. How about we keep our histories to ourselves and try to get this over with as quickly as fucking possible. That sound good to you?"

Your eyes aren’t able to leave his face. His sunken eyes, skin looking like it's been melted by the sun, an obvious nose missing. A ghoul, a ghoul is transporting you. You’ve not met a ghoul before, and those you’ve heard stories of have been grotesque. Fair enough they had been feral, but who’s to say this one won’t turn?

You get the gist of what he’s saying, and simply nod in agreement, not wanting to make this trip any more uncomfortable than it already is.

His eyes bore into your own, and he’s a lot closer than you’d prefer. For a second you think his eyes dart down to your lips before he turns around to keep walking, but that would be crazy, and very disturbing.

Nightfall comes fast, and you’re finding yourself worried for where you’ll be sleeping for the night. You really don’t wanna ask the ghoul, but your steps are getting shorter and slower, and you think the Ghoul have noticed cause he starts walking off track and leads you to a broken down abandoned house off the road.

"Stay here," he says before entering the house, gun up, ready to shoot. You do as he says and wait patiently for him to clear the coast. It doesn’t take long before you hear squealing and two shots being fired. You’re not sure whether to go in or run, but it doesn't matter anyway cause you freeze up completely in these situations. All you can do is hope that the ghoul knows what he's doing.

He comes back to the door a few minutes later, gesturing for you to come in, you’re hesitant, but you do. It's not like you have much of a choice anyway, "What was the shooting about?"

In his left hand he holds a dead radroach, and you find yourself wondering why he’s holding it. That's so fucking gross.

"You should be grateful. I got us some lunch the road," he says, flashing you a smirk. It's almost like he knew you’d be repulsed by it.

"Uhm, y’know what? I think I’m good, for the time being." You try to be nice, but you feel like you might not have a say in the matter. This might be the only food you get for a while.

"Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll make a fire and we’ll put it on the grill."

You want to roll your eyes and complain, but you force yourself to give him a smile and if anything, show some appreciation. He did in fact just catch you a meal.

You’re able to swallow some of the grilled radroach, but after the fresh foods you had grown accustomed to from your commune, you found this hard to stomach.

Nightfall has fallen completely now, and you’ve done your best to make a comfortable sleeping spot by the fire. The ghoul sits nearby keeping watch, and you find yourself very curious of his past and who he is, or who he used to be. Thinking back to his speech earlier about keeping your histories to yourselves reminds you not to ask, but he didn’t say anyting about asking about where you were going.

"What do you know about Halfway?" You watch him closely for any hints he migth give away, "Is it as grand as everyone makes it out to be?" You lay on your side, arm resting under your head.

He doesn’t look at you, eyes fixated on the fire. "How about you get some rest, alright?" he avoids your question. How annoying.

You turn to lay on your back with a puff of annoyance. «Nobody wants to tell me anything,"

"Maybe there's a reason for that."

You turn to look at him, his eyes still not meeting yours. "What is that supposed to mean?" By the sound of it, nothing good.

"Look it's not my job to inform you of shit, and if your leader wanted you to know, trust me darling, she would've told ya."

His eyes flicker up to look directly at yours this time, and it catches you off guard. Not knowing what else to say, you decide to turn to your side, away from him. This whole thing is giving you a really bad feeling.

You’re back on track the next day. Your legs sore from the day before. Having been in isolation for 6 months will do that to you, you guessed, but you'll manage.

The ghoul hasn't said a word yet today, and though you didn't exactly get the answers you were looking for last night, you refused to give up completely.

"What did Margot mean when she said good condition?"

He doesn’t answer, of course he doesn’t. You sigh,

"Look, I don’t mean to be annoying. Truly, I’d just like to know what is waiting for me. That’s all, and I really don't see the harm in that." Still nothing.

"Hey! It’s not kind to ignore someone when they're talking to y-" The ghoul quickly turns, a rope firm in his hands. Where did that come from? He grabs your hands, tying them together before you’re able to protest.

"Hey- what’re you doing!?" You look at him in disbelief, anger and panic all in one.

"Trust me, it’s for your own good," You laugh at that, yeah right. Before you’re able to mock him, he takes out a piece of cloth and wraps it around your head, specially over your mouth, and it's keeping you from saying what's on your mind. For a second you’re actually fearing for your life.

"Listen, gorgeous. We’re about to pass through some dangerous territory, and the people in these parts would do a lot to get their hands on a pretty litte thing like yourself. You follow my lead and keep your mouth shut, can you do that for me?"

You look for any lies in his eyes, but you genuinely believe him. It’s not like you can argue against him anyway, but you put your trust in him and give a nod in response.

You walk for a short while longer before you actually start seeing other people on your path. They seem rough around the edges. Hostile, but not aggressive, yet anyway. You walk past a few who seem to be intrigued, but not interested enough to take their chance at battle with the ghoul. That is until a few of them start gathering in front of you. Four men stand before your path, making it impossible to keep walking without confrontation.

"Gentlemen, how do you do?" The ghoul seems to do his best to keep it friendly, not wanting to create an unnecessary conflict with precious cargo at risk.

"What’ve you got for us ghoul?" As you observe, you can tell some of them are clearly on heavy combat inhancing chems, might be a harder fight if it comes down to it.

"Delivery, to Halfway. Can’t lose this one I’m afraid." He says it so confidently, completely standing his ground, but still keeping it non threatening. The men seem intrigued, and even exchange laughs between themselves. You wonder what they find so funny.

"That religious sacrifice place? What a lucky girl,"

"Seems like she’s up for a hell of a good time,"

"Fellas, if you don’t mind, we’re on a bit of a tight schedule," The ghoul tries to interrupt their 'friendly' chatter, but to no avail.

"They only take virgins up there don’t they? That’s like their whole point?" One of the guys ask the other three.

"Yeah, it’s some crazy religious cult. They torture them and impragnate them for like 10 years or something, or at least that’s what I’ve heard."

You freeze at their words. That can’t be it. That’s not what’s been told to you. They’re joking, making it up to scare you. It’s not true.

"Crazy rich though, you must be getting a lot of caps for this huh?" Suddenly their tone is not so friendly anymore, but the ghoul doesn’t budge. He keeps his hand on his holstered gun, the other holding the rope that binds your hands.

"Lucky for you, we’re not looking to take her off your hands. This time anyway," They laugh once more, patting the ghoul on his shoulder before walking off, letting you pass. He pulls on the rope to shake you out of your frozen state, and you jolst forward, trying to keep up with him. But you're disassociating, not paying a single mind to anything around you. You're too much in your head about what was just said, and you'd like to say you didn't believe a single word, but for some reason you do.

You keep walking in silence, time becomes irrelevant when you're all up in your head. You don’t notice the radstorm closing in, nor the rain that has already started pouring. If anything is in your favor, it's that you pass by a town with an abandoned pre-war hotel that offer a room for 100 caps a night. For whatever reason, the ghoul decides to do that for you. You don’t ask questions, you don't care to.

Soaked, shivering and your legs just barely keeping you up anymore, the ghoul places you down on the couch in the room given to you. You let him guide you, and for once, you're glad he doesn't have much to say. He lowers himself down in front of you and starts taking off the disgusting saliva soaked cloth from your mouth.

You wipe your mouth your hand, "Thank you."

He keeps his mouth shut and starts working on untying the rope from your hands. You watch him crouched before you, he's being gentle when removing the knots. A horrifying reminder of what you won't be experiencing at Halfway, if the men from earlier was telling the truth that is. This thought is what breaks you, and the tears start trickling down your tired face. There's no point holding it back anymore.

He's looking at you, so clearly trying to hide the concern on his face as he stands up and walks to the door.

"I’ll head down to the square to look for some food,"

Whatever.

Your silence is making him uncomfortable, so he leaves. You stay seated, replaying the words spoken between the men from earlier, over and over in your head.

Everyone you knew had made Halfway seem like such an amazing place. That you were lucky to be going, you were chosen. The thought makes you want to throw up.

You don’t register that the ghoul is back, fresh mutfruits placed in front of you on the coffee table, and though you are starving, you can’t bring yourself to even eat one.

"Eat," he says sternly. You just shake your head.

"M’not hungry," you sniffle, drying your tears with the palm of your hand.

"It’s not nice to lie, sweetheart. You haven’t had anything to eat since the damn radroach. Eat," He's trying to act concerned, but you don't believe it for a second. You scoff and look up to meet his eyes, and he’s looking right back at you, an annoyed expression on his face. You can’t believe this guy.

"Why do you care if I eat or not? Let me be," You're so tired, and all you want is to sleep. Gradually rising from the couch, you head towards the bed.

"Please," his plead makes you stop in your tracks.

"Please eat, you're really gonna need the strength," he seems desperate, almost.

You turn around to see him standing motionless by the coffee table, clearly attempting to compose himself.

"No," you're stern in your reply.

He's growing increasingly annoyed, angry even, because he knows he can't force you or harm you in any way.

"Whatever good condition means, I’m sure they'll be pleased as long as I’m alive, right?" Your voice gradually getting louder. "Being that their plan is to torture me for 10 years and all, they must have lots of stimpacks around to keep me alive enough to birth their whole next generation of psychos, don't you think?" Tears start falling.

"Don’t make me beg again," His eyes are shut, as if he's trying to block out your words, as if they affect him somehow. what a fucking joke.

"You’re so afraid you won’t get your paycheck. Well fuck you, and fuck the caps they’re paying you for this," you say it with so much pain and hatred, and you’re sure you’ll regret it later but you don’t have an inch of fuck to give at the moment.

Suddenly you see his angry features fall, and he catches himself in a cough. It's grotesque, and it seems to be getting worse with each one. He looks at you with disrepair, and you can tell he's struggling to catch his breath. You don't know what to do, but you're getting scared for him now. It looks horrifying, but before you're able to come to his aid, he scurries out the room.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. What just happened? A part of you wanted to run after him to make sure he was okay, but at the same time you wouldn't mind too much if he left and never came back. Shaking, you decide to tuck yourself into the left side of the bed. Trying not to think about how dirty it is, you curl yourself into a ball and cry out every last drop.

You’re never able to fall asleep, the tears just keep coming. You thought about running away, but knowing that the ghoul was getting paid a lot for this job, he would likely find you again in no time. What would be the point?

Your sobs are suddenly interrupted by the door opening, and you quiet yourself down to listen closely to every sound. The sound of the ghouls boots scraping the floor as he makes his way to the couch, his coat and gear getting thrown down on it. You decide to pretend that you’re already asleep as you hear him make his way to the bed. Feeling it dip slightly as he lay down in it.

But your cover is blown when you sniffle from the snot in your nose. You damn yourself as a sigh from the stranger fills the room, and you start feeling embarrassed about the way you treated him earlier. It’s not him you should be angry at, if anything it’s Margot and your group. The ghoul is just doing his job, to collect a price which he must need desperately, you can’t really blame him. He owes you nothing.

"Cooper," his raspy voice turned soft for a second.

"What?"

"My name is Cooper, some call me Coop. Whichever rolls of your tongue the best."

You feel awful now, "I’m sorry," Wiping away the tears and the snot to the best of your ability.

"For what sweetheart?" He sounds like he already knows what you’re apologising for, but decides to ask anyway for his own amusement.

"For cursing you out, it’s not your fault, and I shouldn’t blame you," You say, already feeling better for apologizing.

You both stay silent for a while, only sniffles from your nose filling the room. It’s embarrassing, you feel like such a child.

"C’mere darling," He says it in such a soft way. You can barely believe your ears. Looking over your shoulders you see him looking at you, only the dim light of a burning candle nearby to light your surroundings. He’s on his back, gesturing with his hand for you to lay in the crook of his arm. You contemplate it for a second, but it doesn’t take much convincing if you’re being honest. You’d take any form of comfort to make you forget this whole thing, even for just a night.

You turn around, inching closer under the sheets, finding a comfortble spot in the crook of his neck, your head resting on his arm. You’ve never been this close to someone except your mom when you were younger. It’s scary in a way, being this vulnerable and intimate with someone you barely know.

Your breaths are shallow, thoughts racing through your mind and it’s making your heart is beat so fast. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, his body doesn’t give anything away.

You lay like this for a while, just a few dry sniffles and breaths heard between you. You recognize the closeness of him.

But you want to get even closer. You want him wrapped around you and have him absorb your whole being. It may come from having learned that you have extreme trauma waiting for you, and you can’t help but want to experience something good and genuine before that.

Your breaths become heavier, deeper, and you feel yourself wanting something; wanting him. This could go terribly wrong, but what exactly do you have to lose? Fuck it. You push away the what if's and inch your face closer to Cooper’s neck, your hands find themselves carefully making their way to his chest. He doesn’t react, and from what you can tell, he doesn't seem to mind.

You see his breathing stop, and you’re feeling brave. So you test the waters, gently sliding your hand up to his chest, letting them glide across his shirt. While your lips carefully grace the rough skin on his neck. You hear him puff out the air he’s been holding in while curiously letting letting you wander, but he doesn’t seem to resist.

When he doesn’t stop you, it’s easy to find the courage to keep going. Your hand wanders further down his chest, stomach, but he catches your hand right before it reaches the hem of his pants.

"What do you think you’re doin'?" He doesn't sound disappointed, more so curious. You feel a bit embarrassed, but you stand your ground, like you've already stated, you’ve got nothing to lose.

"Please Coop," just a whisper in his ear, "Please show me what it’s meant to feel like", a plea, practically begging.

He can’t help but let out a low growl, obviously turned on by the thought. "I’m meant to deliver you as a virgin, sweetheart."

You want to cry again, a sob brewing deep in your throat. "Please, they won’t know- They won’t find out," Your lips find his neck again, leaving trails of kisses up to his jawline, tongue swirling along the rough surface. You never thought you would find yourself in this position 2 days ago, but here you were, begging for a bounty hunter, a ghoul, to take your virginity.

Lucky for you, he seems to be out of fucks to give and lets go of your hand after only a few seconds of thinking it over. You don’t hesitate to let your free hand go under his shirt to feel his skin. It’s so textured, but you don’t mind. You’ve never touched anyone this way before, there wasn't much to compare it to.

Your hand travel lower until it finds a buldge. Being that this is your first time being intimate with somone, you’re startled by the unfamiliarity of it at first. But it doesn't take you long to realize that you were the reason for his cock hardening, and that turned you on more than anything.

Cooper, who's been laying still for some time now, has clearly been contemplating if he should stop this whole ordeal or not. He wants to touch you so bad, show you how good he can make you feel. Have you shaking with pleasure because of him, but he seems to let you be in control for the time being. You didn't mind, and it gave you some reassurance that this wouldn't be rushed, nor that he would force you to do something you didn't want to.

Your hands are shaking at this point as you try to unbotton his pants, and Cooper can't help but to give you a hand in your already broken state. You’re eager, and waste no time removing your own.

"Get over here darlin'," he says with that gentle voice again, gesturing for you to straddle his hips. His length is exposed now, and you feel yourself getting nervous with anticipation. You find it hard to believe that he's gonna fit inside you, it seems impossible.

Yet, you gain the confidence to sit up and make your way across his lap. You're not sure where to sit specifically, but you want to study him further and therefore straddle his thighs. His cock in view in front of you, laid across his stomach, stiff and drooling. Cooper doesn't say anything, but he watches you carefully, wondering what your next move will be. You don't pay attention to him for now.

You do however find yourself curious, and grab the length in front of you. It's warm, and you circle a thumb across the top where it's drooling a clear liquid. You hear him hum under you, an approval of the gesture you just performed. Butterflies take over your stomach, and you feel throbbing in your lower area. You want his cock so desperately inside you now, just to hear those sounds from him again.

"Sit up for me'," the gruffness of his voice draws your attention to him. You obliged without hesitation, "Scoot closer," and you do, of course you do.

He stretches a hand down between your thigs and you're on your knees straddling his hips. Rough fingers run between your folds and they run smoothly.

"Well fuck me, you really want this huh?" He's teasing you now. You nod frantically.

"Use your words sweetheart," He inserts a finger in your untouched hole. You gulp at the sensation, "Yes- yes I do-".

He hums again, moving the finger inside you, bending and stroking. It feels strange, but not painful. "I know you do honey, but I need to make sure you can handle me first, alright?"

You nod frantically, you knew already that you were prepared to do anything he wanted. "Yes, sir,"

Without warning he adds another finger, and it's starting to sting a little. You try to control your breathing as he starts moving them in and out of you, "I know it hurts baby, but it's only for a lil while. You trust me, don't you?"

You nod again, "Yes- Fuck!" He was getting agressive with it now, but he's hitting a spot you didn't know existed and it's sending you to other dimensions in your mind. Your eyes are rolling back while his fingers work hard between your thighs. It's unlike anything you've felt before.

"There we go.. You're gonna be so good for me aren't you, princess?" His words barely register as you find yourself gripping his arm and holding on for dare life to not lose your balance.

"Mhm- y- yes," and before you knew it, his hand is removed from between your folds and you're left heaving for your breath and trying to focus your vision again.

"I think you know what to do, darlin'," You need him badly now, even more now that you know what pleasures are waiting.

You place yourself over his cock, and Cooper watches in patiently as he puts his hands on your thighs, stroking them gently.

You grab his length and place it under your opening, ready to lower yourself on him. "Slow now," he warns as you as his tip meets your entrance, before letting it slip in just an inch. You both hiss, him with pleasure, you with pain.

"That’s it, doll," He keeps his eyes on you as you wince in pain. Taking deep breaths as your hole adjusts itself to his full size, but you’re feeling impatient and start pushing yourself even further despite the burning sensation. You figure it’s better to get it over with as fast as possible so you can actually start enjoying this.

Cooper hums, "Patience sweetheart," you lock eyes with him, and he genuinely seems to care. He lets you have complete control over this, not pushing any limits, and it makes you feel even more aroused, being in charge; seeing his eyes roll back with edged pleasure, yet doing nothing to force his way in.

You feel comfortable enough to start moving now, and you do your best not to squeal when you feel it burn and sting. Finally your skin touch, your ass gracing his thighs, and though it’s still stinging a bit, you can feel his whole length inside you, and it drives you mad.

"Just like that, princess," You hear his soft grunts below, and it reminds you to start moving. Slowly easing yourself off him, just to lower back down again, trying to find the right pace and angle for it to hit the right spot. It doesn't take long before you feel Cooper bucking his hips just ever so slightly to help you out, and he does. He knew exactly how to thurst his cock to give you the extreme pleasure you were searching for.

"More- please," you moan, your hands find his chest to lean on. Nails digging into his already ragged skin.

"God, you feel so fuckin' good around me, darling," His hips buck into you again, pulling himself almost all the way out before slamming himself back inside you. It's rough, and his hands have found your ass to grab to help move you to his rhythm. You're dazed, eyes barely open from sheer pleasure radiating deep inside you. It's making your breath hitched, and your moans spurt out in cries.

"My- fuckn'- god-" you struggle to draw a proper breath, your vision is blurred and rolled back, barely open.

He’s grunting with pleasure beneath you, seeing you completely lost to the way his cock fills your tight cunt, the next time rougher than last. You both sense that you're getting closer to an edge, and that’s when you realize how lightheaded you are, probably from the lack of food you’ve had today, and Coop notices how your figure slowly droops with exhaustion.

"Woah easy darling-" You feel him sit up under you, and without much effort he sits up and holds you tight to his chest, flipping you over on your back in a swift motion.

You would act surprised, but you’re too lightheaded and close to a climax that you don’t react at all. You feel his head in the crook of your neck, breathing heavy and groaning into your ear as he pushes himself deep and steady inside you. Your moans are soft, almost silent, barely there, not enough energy to show him how good he’s making you feel. But you think he gets it, if anything he can see it in how your eyes roll back, how flushed your cheeks are, and feel how your walls are squeezing tightly around him.

"You gonna be a good girl and finish all over my cock, princess?" You feel a hand reach under your chin, placed firmy on your throat, a tight squeeze is applied as you feel his hot breath on your cheek. Sloppy kisses, and a traveling tongue, licking off all your sweat and tears. Having him so near and in control of your breathing makes you feel unbelievably hot. He could kill you right now, right at your high, and you wouldn't mind at all.

"I think I'm- Coop I'm gonna-," you’re whisper in his ear, and it only fuels him more.

He lifts your leg higher, hooking it over his free arm as he goes even deeper. "Show me how fuckin' good I make you feel, sweetheart,"

And with that you think you’re about to pass out, but instead you’re hit with the intense feeling of something combursting inside you. Your head slams back, and your hands reach up to grab the headboard of the bed, your knuckles turning white from the grip. You're dazed, exhausted, feeling the lingering pleasure from your orgasm still present inside your throbbing cunt. Cooper helps you ride out the orgasm in a slower pace while coming up close to his own.

"There you go doll, it's all right," His hand leaves your throat and he unhooks your leg to find your waist, placing them on each side. He's leaning back on his knees as he pumps himself into you, softly, slowly. Soft groans leaves his lips in heavy and hitched breaths as he gets closer.

Seeing you so beautifully dishevelled and limp beneath him, he starts guiding your exhausted body with his hands, pulling you onto his cock, using it to finish himself off. You allow him, cause you enjoy watching him his chest rise with every breath he takes. His eyes rolling back with pleasure from feeling your walls pulsate with each thrust, and with one last squeeze from you, he reaches his own climax.

His hands are grabbing your waist so tightly you can feel the bruises forming already, but all you can focus on is his heaving chest, and his exposed throat as his head is thrown back. Soft grunts and curses filling the room, and you imagine his eyes closed with painfully pleasurable bliss, all caused by you.

He rides out his own orgasm and tries to settle his breathing before he lifts himself off you. He doesn't look at you, but climbs tiredly out of the bed to readjust his clothing. You’re so sleepy, greasy, smelly, but you don't care. You're high, and happy.

You watch him at the edge of the bed, and you utter a soft 'Thank you', just to let him know you're grateful for risking the success of the job. You were meant to be delivered as a virgin after all.

You hear him chuckle from the foot of the bed, you guessed he’d never gotten a ‘thank you for fucking me’ from anybody before, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

"Close your eyes and get some sleep, alright?" Hell, he doesn’t need to tell you twice.

"I think that’s a good idea," You’re not really sure if the words ever left your mouth, being that you’re practically half asleep already. But you do notice the bed dipping slightly next to you, and how you’re gently being pushed on your side. Followed by something warm pressed up against your back, and gentle kisses being placed along your exposed neck.

What tomorrow brings doesn't matter in this moment.

Part 2?

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout #fallout reader #fallout fanfic #cooper howard x female reader #cooper howard fanfiction #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout the ghoul #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut #fallout smut

536 notes · View notes

jasmines-library · 2 months

Note

Hey, I love your Batfam work! Is there any chance you could do a whump/angst one of batsis being kidnapped by a villian(you can choose whoever you want) and she’s tortured for days with it being broadcasted to the Batfam while they try to track the footage. I feel kinda bad but can you do maybe some head trauma md severe burns? Maybe she has to be put in a medically included coma or smth because of the damage? Also is there any way you could include Barb and Duke along w/ the four robins? If not that’s totally cool! Sorry for the long request but I hope you have a great day!!

Anonymous Requested: batfam x batsib reader whos the youngest and newest robin and is just really goofy and doesn’t take anything seriously (ex: them blaring “who’s the (bat)man” on the comms during patrol [that songs stuck in my head i had to mention it]) and something happens, maybe their first close encounter to death or a run in with the joker and they just become a shell of who they were and stuff

Jokes On Me

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: My god im so sorry this literally took me forever to write, thank you so much for being patient. I've been trying to write this all week but just couldn't sit down for long enough to finish it.

Warnings: Torture, blood, burns.

Word Count: 2.5k

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

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“Y/N, turn that shit off.”

Jason grumbled at you over the coms. You had been blasting some wretched song that you’d found on the internet over and over again and it was beginning to drive him mad.

“Nope.” You said, popping the ‘p’ loudly.

“Seriously.” Dick deadpanned. He had found it amusing at first, but it was now beginning to test his patience.

Agitated, you sighed and turned off the music. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” Jason expressed gratefully, turning his eyes back to the road he was patrolling. The night was cool and quiet besides the odd dog walker or couple returning from an evening out. It was one of those nights where patrol would end early and he could return home to take a warm bath and read a book before turning in for the night. Or so he thought.

You were rounding the corner, humming that tune that was still stuck in your head when his laughter ricocheted across the walls. You stiffened, eyes widening and hands fumbling for your weapon as your breath hitched. No amount of turning and craning your head allowed you to catch a glimpse of the dreaded figure, and you thought for a moment that perhaps it had just been a trick of your mind, or one of your brothers playing a cruel joke on you as payback for winding them up earlier. But then you heard it again, only this time to your left. You clutched your weapon tighter, eyes scanning the area with a new found sense of urgency.

“Wing…” You whispered into the coms so quietly that you were surprised he heard it.

“What now?” He somewhat snapped.

“We have a problem.”

Dick’s heart sank through the floor, his ears pricking up and his demeanour changing completely. “Where are you? What’s the matter? He was trying to let his panic show, but you hadn’t been patrolling as a vigilante for very long, and while you were well trained, you lacked the experience to deal with something big on your own. And from your tone of voice, he could tell that you were in some deep shit.

Jason worked his legs harder to push himself to reach the direction he had seen you head off in. Albeit it seemed even his hardest wasn’t enough.

When he stepped out of the darkness, the first thing you noticed were his eyes. Wide and bright, easily mistakable for a cat’s as they flashed in the darkness; wild. Rabid. As he emerged fully with that infamous twisted grin splayed out on his face, you felt like a cornered animal; a deer in headlights. You froze, unable to move despite how your heart screamed at you to run as it pounded, trying to break free from your ribcage.

“He’s here…” A mere whisper sliding over your tongue, so fragile that you weren’t even sure if you had actually said it aloud. Jason had heard it.

“Who?”

The Joker was circling you now, dragging out his strides in lazy circles. You should have fought but in that moment all of your training had drained out of you, along with the colour in your face. He smirked, leering down upon you as you tried to keep your trembling hand still. He pouted in mockery and at your silence, Jason repeated his question to you, but you never got the chance to respond.

“Oh…Just an old friend, Jay-bird.”

“Joker.” Urging his body to move faster, Jason grit his teeth.

Dick paled. “You leave them alone.” Dick spat. It tried to be a command, but the effect was lost somewhere in transmission.

The joker pursed his lips, tilting his head as he analysed. One of his hands had found his way to your jawline and he trailed it with a cold, gloved hand. You wanted to lean away, to run and find your brother but you knew that now he had you in his grasp there was no point in even trying. “And why would I do that? They’re right in front of me. I could just…snatch them up.”

“Don’t you dare!” Dick was frightened now. “Y/N, you stay there as long as you can, okay? You fight. We’re coming, you hear?”

The Joker frowned at you. “D’you hear that? Big brother birdy coming to the rescue. How sweet.”

His grip on you tightened. “Too bad you’ll be long gone by the time they get here.”

With one swift motion, he had thrown you harshly to the side, your head colliding with the wall with a sickening crack.

The two boys skidded to a halt just a second too late. You were already gone.

Your head hurt when you woke up. Your eyes squinted against the sterile light. They did no favours to your pounding headache. With a groan, you tried to twist, to roll over and soothe the crook in your neck but instead all that happened was the jinging of a metal chain. You craned your head and spotted the thick chain that had been wrapped around your wrist, confining you to the chair. Struggling, you tugged on them, trying to free yourself only for them to rattle and scrape against your skin.

“Yeah, that’s not going anywhere, birdy.” The joker chided.

You glared at him through narrowed eyes, trying to mask the thumping of your heart. The joker grinned wildly at your frightened complexion.

“It was such a shame that Grayson and Todd didn’t get to you in time, but it was far too easy to catch you, little bird: you completely froze.” He snapped his fingers to emphasise his point. “Didn’t batsy teach you better?”

“Don’t talk about them.” You snapped.

The joker raised his hands, palms facing toward you in surrender: taunting you as if you were the one with the power in the situation. “Touchy subject I see. Too bad.”

He gestured above you to an incessantly blinking light. “Smile for the camera, you’re live.”

Babs had been monitoring the street cameras when the computer beside her flickered to life. She had been searching for any sign of you ever since Dick and Jason came flying through the grandfather clock. Everyone was on edge.

The moment the screen flashed on, her eyes perked up to watch it, alarmed. She hadn’t turned it on. And there were very few people who could bypass the caves system. So when she saw a small frame curled up in a chair she knew immediately what was up.

“Duke…” she called to the dark haired boy who was trying to help decipher your whereabouts. “Go and get B.”

It did not take long at all for everyone to gather around in the cave. Duke was fast, and everyone dropped what they were doing to race down: even Alfred had taken his leave from his duties to see.

It was almost like some sick irony because as soon as they were all there, you began to scream. A guttering, perfect scream that cut that through them like a knife: unclean and pinging into them messily again and again.

The joker had taken a knife to your left thigh, his smile dripping with malice as he watched the camera, somehow knowing that at least one of them would be watching.

Your face was contorted in pain, twisting in agony as tears rolled flatly down your cheeks from fearful eyes. Damian felt sick, his stomach churning. Jason wanted to leave. But all of them were stuck watching. Barbra was tapping away, trying to locate the signal from the video to no avail.

“I hope you’re watching this Batsy…” He moved round to trail your face with the edge of the knife. You whimpered. “I’ve got your little bird here and I must say, you need to work on their training. They were far too easy to catch.”

Bruce felt his jaw tightening and Tim had to place a hand on his arm to remind him of his place.

“Anyway I thought we would play a little game… how long can little y/n survive for. I wonder if it’ll be any longer than our very own Jason Todd.”

Jason twitched.

“I’m testing you here, Bat. Tick Tock.”

The transmission cut to black.

It seemed hopeless. Even though they had been searching for days, they were no closer to finding you. And to make matters worse, they could see you. Not long after the first transition ended did it start up again. It had been lifestreaming since then, and although they had tried to block it from their minds, it was hard to ignore. Especially when your agonised screams ricocheted throughout the halls.

You looked like hell. Dark bags occluded under your eyes and there wasn’t an inch of your skin that wasn’t marred or stained with drying blood. The burns were worse. Damian could still hear the scream you let out when the joker first brought the hot poker to your skin. It had bubbled and blistered as the skin peeled away; you had thrashed against your restraints violently. Tim was certain that they were going to get infected if they didn’t reach you soon.

It felt as if they had searched everywhere. Dick and Jason had even asked around to see if anyone had heard anything, going as far to talk to the Jokers closest associates in Arkham, but even if they did know, nobody said anything. Duke had even gone as far to go back to the area to use his powers to see if he could trace anything, but nothing seemed out of place; they had hit a brick wall. That was…until a small light appeared on the monitor. Babs had managed to trace the signal to a small building on the outskirts of the city.

They were suited up in minutes, making a beeline for the building. They stormed it, recklessly taking down the Joker's goons before Batman chased wildly after the Joker, his face stony and his fists burning with anger. The other four boys chased down the winding corridors, flinging open the doors until they found one that was locked. Tim wasted no time, picking the lock with ease he peeled it open. His breath hitched when he saw you.

Your face was gaunt, hanging low by your chest. Your suit was torn and there was less of it on your body than there was ripped away. You looked so fragile as your chest heaved sporadically.

Jason nearly had to take a step back. This place reminded himself too much of his own encounter with the Joker not too long ago. But he pressed forward, fighting his instincts. He had to be strong. Instead of turning back, he kneeled in front of you, whispering your name. His hand came up to cup your face. You flinched away.

“It’s okay kid. It’s us.” He tried to reassure you, but you shrank back into yourself.

“We’re so, so sorry kiddo.” Dick tried placing a gentle hand on your arm before moving to work on the cuffs around your wrists. “We’re going to get you out.”

You said nothing, just continued to stare at the black space before you, and Dami wasn’t sure if you even knew they were in front of you. But when Jason moved away from you to help remove your restraints, your fingers latched onto him and you squeaked in protest.

He sighed shakily. “Don’t worry kid. I’m not going anywhere.”

Damian twisted from where he was guarding the door. “We need to leave.”

Dick nodded bluntly, finishing with the last of the locks. “I’m going to have to pick you up, okay sweetheart?”

You barely registered what he had said. Everything had grown numb, you nodded anyhow. Moving his arms underneath your legs and slipping one arm behind your back, Jason began to lift you. He nearly recoiled when you cried and whimpered with the way your wounds jostled as he sprinted out of the building to get you back to safety.

You were yet to say anything since you came home. You had been back a few days and your wounds were healing up nicely thanks to Alfred’s handywork, but the air was eerily silent around you. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t been communicating with them; you spoke to them with gestures or writing but no one was used to not hearing your voice. The stark contrast between your loud and bustling personality and you now was unsettling. No one wanted to push you too far but the manor was beginning to grow lonely.

It was one particularly rainy night when you finally spoke. You were curled up in a large armchair by the window in the library, sinking back into the plush leather as you watched the raindrops race down the glass. Jason had been watching you from afar, contemplating whether to talk to you or not when he walked over.

“What are you up to?” He asked you, making sure you knew that he was there before he spoke.

You gestured toward the window,then to the half opened book at your feet and shrugged.

“I see.” He nodded, taking a seat on the armchair opposite you. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Jason wasn’t much of a talker. He knew more than anyone what you were going through, which was why it was nice just to know that he was willing to sit with you, just so you knew that he was there if you needed him. It made you feel safe. But you also couldn’t help but feel guilty, and frustrated with yourself for being in a place that made him feel as though he had to do that.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Jason had to do a second take. His heart swelled. “What for?”

You sighed. “This. When I saw him…i-i froze. If I had run then this would never have happened.”

“Shh. This isn’t your fault.”

“But-”

“I promise, Kid. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

You nodded, looking away from him. But then you furrowed your brows and turned back to him. “How did you do it? How did you deal with this, Jay? Every time I close my eyes he’s there.”

“I guess I don’t, really. Or sometimes it feels like I don’t. I still get scared sometimes. I still see him in my dreams. But over time it gets easier. I had people around me to help me. And so do you, kid. We’re here. We’ll always be here.”

Jason shifted to brush away a rogue tear and you leaned into his touch and then wrapped your arms tightly around his middle.

“I’m here. Always. We’ll get through this together.”

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BATFAM TAGS

@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

1K notes · View notes

klipkillakai · 3 months

Text

|pt3|

you laugh when your bestie mia tells you about her vacation in florida, she’s currently telling you about her sneaky links and showing you pictures as you do her nails, you’ve been doing your own nails for years and you’ve extended to doing your friends too.. you softly tap the acrylic onto her nail shaping it neatly—

“ugh i wanna go on a vacation” you say as you start filing her nails.. “you could’ve went with me i asked” she says in a sing song voice slightly teasing you, you roll your eyes “you know how my parents are stop playing” she laughs and nods..

your phone vibrates and you hear a ding cutting your music off for a second and you look down at your phone and see it’s a text from connie, you immediately feel warmth all over your body and try your hardest to fight back a smile..

“unt unt girl you gotta tell me about him now” laughing you say “it’s not much to tell yet, we’re just hanging out you know?” mia gives you a knowing look “mhm” and goes back to humming to the sza song playing through your room

a while later your taking pictures of her nails, “girl hold your hand straight” you laugh.. “i’m trying shit, i drank too much coffee” you giggle and finally get pictures to your satisfaction and sigh leaning back in your chair.. then you start to clean up

“so there’s this house party tonight down the block you trynna go?” you look up “i don’t know, you know ion really go to parties like that” mia groans “please y/n i don’t wanna go by myself and we don’t have to stay long” you think about it… “ugh fine” you say and she yells “period!” you start thinking about what your gonna wear and how your gonna do your hair “so imma leave, the party starts at 6 and i’m gonna go get ready and imma pick you up then okay?” you wipe down the table “okay bet” she comes over and gives you a quick hug before leaving—

“life is better on saturn” you sing while you put highlighter on the tip of your nose while looking in the mirror, you hear a ding and mia texts you she’s outside so you quickly get up looking at your outfit, mid rise jeans and a cropped white halter top, something slight something comfortable, you slip on black kitten heels you thrifted and you put on all your jewelry, rings, necklaces, bracelets, and switching out some of the earrings on your stack..

you drench your body in perfume because that’s the only way to do it and you grab your purse, quickly grabbing your lip gloss and liner before running out the door—

connie looks down at his phone for the 100th time today, waiting for you to text him back, he takes another hit from his blunt, and ignores when his friends try to talk to him about something cause now.. you stressin him out a little bit.. you haven’t gotten to the point in your relationship where your sharing locations so he has no idea where you are or what your doing.. he sends you another text

“wya mama?”

he waits 10 mins and still no response, he sits up a bit and rubs a hand down his face “this fucking girl man” he whispers and gets up, mumbling to his friends he has to go..

you unknowingly forgot to text him back and your in your own little world as your at the party, you dance with mia grinding against each other and singing tipsily towards each other giggling, it’s hot and sweaty and it truly feels like a movie, the beatbox your drinking is running through your veins and pumping false confidence and sensuality, it hinders your common sense a bit so you allow that one guy to touch up on you a little bit, you let him hold your waist as he moves behind you—

you and mia slip away from the dancing a bit going to find more drinks, you lean in the counter giggling with mia watching her pour a bunch of different liquors in two cups for you both and you feel your phone buzz and realize your getting a call, not only that but you’ve gotten several texts, you pick up

“h-hello?” you stutter a bit and giggle

“y/n? where you been i’ve been texting you all day”

you realize it’s connie and you slightly sober up

“im sorry ive been out all d-day, i didn’t see the texts”

connie slightly clenches his jaw as he sits in his car and tries to calm himself down, “where you at now?”

“im at a party with mia” you giggle softly

“who tf is-” connie starts his car and speeds down the road.. “where’s the party at”

“ummmm” you hum trying to think about it but your drunk mind won’t let you, “i’m gonna just send you my location” you do so and connie looks at it realizing it one of his buddies house and makes a turn and heads there.. “i’m on my wa- he’s about to say but is cut off when you abruptly hang up” he almost throws his phone but calms himself down—

you accidentally hang up as you get handed another drink and you go back to the dance floor, they start playing vybez kartel and you get it lit asf, you and mia start whining and twerking on each other.. mia records you as you unbutton your pants allowing the ass to move a bit more and you twerk on her “baby, baby mi a plead” you sing in unison and you both are laughing and having a good ass time..

the guy from before comes over and you let him hold you waist as you whine—

connie walks into the party hearing “one man” loudly playing one the speakers, he sees a sea of people dancing, laughing, chatting, drinking and smoking, he daps up a few people as we walks through the crowd looking for you..

he walks throughout the house and he finally sees you, and when he does he looses his fucking mind, he sees some random guy behind you holding your waist, as you whine on him, he sees that pretty ass smile on your face, your eyes slightly glossy and low how they usually are when you smoke together and not a care in the world..

he almost blacks out and quickly walks to you, yanking the guy off and pulling out a gun, and pressing it to the guys head and he says quietly “back the fuck up” you look at the gun and you slightly gasp in shock

“connie?” you ask, softly tugging him back.. connie looks back at you and gives you a look you never want to see from him again “imma deal with you in a second” he says low enough for only you two to hear and goes back to the guy currently trying to act hard infront of the crowd of people, connie cocks the gun and presses it harder against his head “do sumn i dare you..”

he threatens and the guy starts backing off..

connie stares him down until he walks away and he slowly turns back at you and you sober up a bit

“im sor- connie cuts you off and grabs your hand and drags you outside, you try to talk but connie doesn’t respond, he gets to his car and opens the door for you letting you get inside and slamming your door..

you start feeling a nervous flutter in your lower belly and watch as he rounds the car and gets in, starting the car and pulling off without saying a word

“connie” you say softly trying to get his attention but his hand just grips the wheel and he speeds up, you softly try to touch his chin and he grabs your hand and pulls it down..

“talk to me” you whisper, looking up at him and rubbing his arm.. still no response.. you sigh and sit back down looking out the window slightly biting your lip, as you sit there you get an idea.. definitely influenced by the alcohol and weed running through your veins..

you look over at him and you softly start to rub his chest, you lean a bit closer and press small kisses to his shoulder, “talk to me” you whisper again, you start to drag your hand down his chest to his lap and you rub his thigh.. biting your lip you slide you hand over to his bulge and start to palm it and you lean towards his ear “please talk to me papa” you say in the sweetest voice you can muster.. you watch as his eyes quickly flicker over to yours and you slightly smile knowing you almost got him..

you take off your seatbelt, trusting he won’t crash and you undo his belt and unbutton his jeans, you reach down and pull his dick out, he’s so hard and the tip is a painful red and you watch as a singular bead of precum rolls down his tip, you look up at him and he’s watching you with a dazed lustful look, but you also see anger behind them at that makes you feel a multitude of things..

you look back down and press a small kiss to the tip, and you hear a slow release of air come from his mouth, almost like a slow hiss, relying on books you’ve read and videos you watched you do the best you can, softly spitting on his dick and wrapping your mouth around his tip, using your hand with your freshly done acrylics to handle the rest..

connie feels like he’s going insane, he’s angry with you you, but at the same time he needs you so desperately, he quickly pulls into a parking lot so he can focus on what you doing, connie parks and slightly puts his seat back allowing you to have more room, he pushes your braids always from your eyes so he can see them while he looks down at you—

you hollow your cheeks and start to bob your head connie’s eyes nearly roll back and he holds your har up guiding you.. you move faster, taking it deeper while looking up at him for reassurance..

“ugh fuck” connie groans “just like that”

“don’t think i forgot about what you was doing mama, had me stressed all day.. ignoring me nd shi”

you feel connie tug your braids lifting your head up and you look at him, he stares downs at you and grabs your face with his hand and he licks and bites his lip as if he’s holding himself back from something, you watch as he slowly grabs his gun from the armrest and picks it up looking at if before slowly rubbing it on your lips and then slowly raising it to the side of your temple…

this sends a slice of terror down your back, you freeze and look up at connie, your eyes getting teary and blurry.. but.. deep down.. you feel that slow wave of heat pooling in your belly, the slow trickle of your slick filling your panties, and that soft throb.. and that’s what scares you the most.. you like this..

“i don’t ever wanna see you on another guy like that you hear me?”

“i swear to god y/n i will kill that motherfucker and then imma be on yo ass after”

he leans down closer to you “nod if you understand”

you slowly nod, a tear rolls down your cheek and your drunk mind struggles to process the influx of emotions your feelings right now..

he puts the gun down and leans back softly grabbing the base of his dick and squeezing it, jerking it softly before tapping it against your lips.. “open” he whispers and you do… you take his dick in your mouth, sitting up a bit and going as deep as you can, you gag softly and connie groans quietly “there you go” he whispers and you start to bob your head up and down..

you start to drool and let it get sloppy and nasty, you use both of your hands to jerk the base as you bob your head and connie’s eyes roll back and he holds a hand over his face “fuuuuck” he whispers and you respond with soft gags and soft little moans..

you slide your mouth off with a “pop!” and you start to kiss his balls heavy with cum as you look up at him.. “who taught you this” he almost whimpers and looks slightly jealous.. “m-my first time” you say as you drag your lips up and down his length..

“stop fucking playing” he groans absolutely not believing you.. “m’not lying papa” and you take him back in your mouth gagging softly and taking it as deep you can go.. at this point your mascara is rolling down your cheeks and your eyes are teary and red, but connie thinks this is the prettiest he’s ever seen you and he knows that makes him a sick bastard but he doesn’t care..

“your gonna make me-” he quickly pulls your head away as he felt he was about to cum, “shit baby hollon we going back to my place”… you softly whine and he nods “i know baby i know” you sit up and get back in your seat and connie tucks himself back in before quickly pulling out the parking lot and speeding back home..

he pulls into the parking garage and he hops out and so do you, you softly slip of your heels and you walk on your tippy toes to the elevator, connie notices and quickly picks you up bridal style and you let out a sharp gasp and immediately you feel a bit insecure..

“put me down m’too heavy” you try to slip out of his hold..

connie looks down at you and softly smacks his teeth, “stop moving ma, i gotchu” you feel flustered and look away and you nervously chew on your lip and you quietly ride the elevator with him, it dings and he carries you to the door and taps his fob on the door and walks inside, he carrie’s you down the hall and too his room and he drops you on his bed..

he stands at the foot of his bed and stares down at you and you stare back, the tension in the room getting denser and denser, he smiles softly and pulls his phone out and soon after you hear music playing, through speaks all throughout his apartment.. he reaches behind him and pulls off his shirt, your soon met with all his tattoos you love and his gold chain dangling from his neck, you lie on your back slightly sitting up on your elbows and you watch him..

he grabs your legs and pulls you towards him and leans down and traps you between his arms, and softly drags his nose down your neck and presses soft kisses down the path “you want this?” he whispers, and you slowly wrap your legs around his waist “it’s my first time” you whisper back, realizing how intimate the situation has gotten “do you want me to be your first?” he asks looking at you hoping you’ll say yes..

you stare up at him nodding softly.. “words mama” he whispers tenderly as his lips hover over yours, “yes..i would love for you to be my first” and connie smiles the brightest smile you’ve seen from him and that makes your heart palpate.. you both are heading towards dangerous territory and you both don’t give one fuck..

he captures your lips in a deep.. passionate kiss, you both letting out the pent up emotions you’ve both been holding in, his rage and passion.. and his care and worry.. your fear and obsession.. and your love and care..

he pulls away from your lips and slowly moves down, he’s looking up at you.. head between your plush thighs and he softly kisses them.. you get flustered and shy feeling insecure about the slight discoloration on the inside.. but connie absolutely could not care less, he kisses and bites your thighs likes his last meal on earth, he presses a soft kiss to your waist and drags he knuckles softly down the slit of your panties where he can see your slick pooling, you twitch and let out soft whimpers and that’s music to his ears..

he presses a kiss to your clothed clit before pulling your panties down, watching a string of your wetness still attached to it and his dick throbs against his belt and he lets out and audible groan..

he spreads your thighs and spreads your lips with his fingers before dragging his tongue down your slit then up to your clit, you mouth drops and you let out a moan, you quickly reach down and grab his hair feeling your toes curl, your heart beats a bit faster and he grips your thighs and holds them down before he sucks and flicks he tongue over your clit, completely ravishing you.. he tongues moves quickly and with purpose he sucks, bites, spits in tandem, knowing exactly how to get you where he wants you, he watches your tight hole clench and leak out clear slick and it drives him crazy..

he slaps your pussy and you look at him and moan “you like that?” “hm?” he slaps it again and you let out a quiet sob.. loving the stinging pain “again please” you whine, and he does it again.. over and over until your sobbing.. he goes back to licking and sucking.. until your loose enough for him to slide one finger inside..your back arches and your eyes roll back “im gonna cum” you whimper out and you do.. you toes curl and your ears ring and a flash of white blurs your vison for a second..

connie watches the whole thing and nearly cums in his pants, the face you make the feeling of your clenching around his fingers drives him insane, you slowly come down from your high and connie sits up pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and stands up walking across the room and opening a drawer grabbing a box of condoms and walking back..

you look up at him “i want to feel you” you whisper and his eye snap towards you “you don’t want me to wear one?” “no” you say.. almost sounding like a plead.. “you comfortable taking plan b?” he asks wanting to do what you think is best..

“i don’t mind.. i just wanna feel you” that sends a ping in his heart and he nods and smiles softly, he climbs back on the bed and hovers between your legs, he leans forward kissing you and rubbing your cheek with his thumb.. “tell me if you need me to stop.. slow down.. anything aii?” “want you to enjoy this too” you smile and nod “i will” you whisper..

he leans back grabbing your legs and pulling them next to his waist, he grabs the base of his dick and softly rubs it up and down your slit and back and forth over your clit, you feel pangs of pleasure blooming all over you body, everywhere starting to become super sensitive and hot, and when he starts to push his dick inside, you bite back a scream.. your eyes water and connie keeps looking up at you.. his heart slightly breaking knowing your in pain but he keeps pushing inside.. he knows he’s big and he knows he gonna have to pace himself with you..

“you doing so good for me mama” he coos as he rubs your thigh, pushing the rest of himself inside and letting out a sigh.. “your gonna fucking kill me” he whispers to himself and leans forwards and starts slow and deep thrusts.. rolling his hips into you..

your mouth slightly agape, you feel dazed and you feel like the deepest itch has been scratched, connie feels your pussy throb and pulsate around his dick and he tucks his face in your neck letting out small whimpers.. a whispering all sorts of colorful language.

he starts picking up his pace, now pounding into you, the rhythmic sound of skin slapping together fills the room almost drowning out the music, “that feel good?” he coos “yea?” and you nod “so so good” you stutter out the best you can.. he can tell your almost fucked out and he’s barely started yet, poor thing he thinks to himself.. he pushes your thighs back so far that they reach your ears and slightly burn, and he pounds into you, at an abnormal pace,

“fuck fuck fuck” he spits out as he pounds into.. his body covered in sweat and his brows furrowed.. all you can do is moan and take it, it’s a complete sensory overload and you don’t know what to do, you reach for him and he leans down and whispers all sorts of nasty shit in your ear..

“fucking gonna take all this nut yea?”

“want me to fill you up? nasty bitch”

“taking this dick so good for me”

“all you needed was some dick mama, cs now your being the good girl i know you are”

every sentence makes your clench and tighten around him and you both get closer and closer to cumming..

all of sudden connie pulls out and flips you over, quickly slapping your ass “arch yo back f’me” he says and you do your best, raising your ass and curing your back and laying your pretty head on the bed softly reaching down and rubbing your clit to alleviate the pain coming from your sore hole..

connie slide himself back into you, holding your waist and pounding into you, your mouth drops and connie moans and kneads your ass, he pounds into you from behind, bullying his thick dick into you from behind as he looses his mind, muttering all sorts of incoherent shit, just trying to express in his equally fucked out mind how fucking good it feels..

you just a babbling mess “that feels so g-good”…

“pa i cant- shit~ you whimper out not knowing what to do or say, it feels so wet and full and good, you feel connie kissing your back and grabbing your ass and all you know is that you don’t want it to stop, you feel you belly feel full and warm and you know your about to cum soon and so is he, he picks up the pace and he bites his lip so hard he tastes blood and he feels you tighten so much around his dick he cums..

“FUCK” he spits out, while you whimper a soft “shit” and you cum together, juices and fluids mixing together making it even more sloppy that it already is, he’s still slowly pounding into you and you put your hand against his belly “s’to sensitive” you whimper out, and he twitches and slowly stops.. he pulls out off you and you shiver, your thighs shaking and you plop down on the bed, immediately feeling exhaustion taking over you..

connie kisses down your back and uses all his strength to get up and grab a towel for you, he softly wipes between your thighs and uses the same to wipe his dick, he pull off the crop top you both didn’t bother to take off and grabs one of his shirts and pulls it over you, he slips his boxers back on and plops on the bed next to you, he pulls you on his chest and softly rubs your back..

he softly rubs your cheek and he feels such a strong emotion take over him that he barely recognizes anymore, and he doesn’t want to admit to himself what it is, so he softly kisses your forehead and closes his eyes, falling asleep with you..

|a/n|

y’all writing smut is absolutely NOT for the weak, that’s why this release took so long cause i have to spend so long visualizing what i want them to actually be doing 😭 but i hope y’all like it fr.. and thanks girl for lil gun idea you ate fr 🩷

[tag-list]

@fairygodbaby

@jun1p3rlol

@ebonydumbslut

@burpzz

@rawr29184

@thegirlyouworryabout

@rnvsxo

@thesmutconnoisseur

@undevidedattentionsblog

@magalimachete

@christinabae

@justazee

lmk if i forgot anyone and i’ll tag you 🩷

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