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luvyeni · 8 months ago

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PERSONAS ,, 이제노

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ jeno is surprised by your persona... both of them ヾ

PORNSTAR!이제노・ CAMGIRL!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ wc ・ 6.4k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

𓂃 🎞️ content warning... sex on film, rough-ish sex, oral sex ( M ), unprotected sex, facial

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 finally did a fic based on this photoshoot , doesn’t he look like a 80’s pornstar?

camgirling was only supposed to be something you did for fun, and the cash you got from it wasn't too bad either — you never expected to blow up like you did, the people really liked you.

when you first started it was slow, but that didn't last long and soon you gained a small following. it wasn't until you did a face reveal that you blew up — the fans loved you; that day alone you gained 100k new followers. from that day on you only grew more; more money rolled in which granted you the ability to move into a bigger apartment, pay off your debts and live comfortably without stress.

“it's your persona” your friends would say; you weren't shy about you did for work; you felt like you didn't need to be — no you weren't telling a stranger on the street you did camgirling , but you didn't hide it from your friends. “you're a walking porn trope.” donghyuck; your best friend said. “innocent girl next door look , but we all saw you deepthroat a 6in dildo without gagging.”

that should've offended you but you were used to it. “yeah , that pigmented blush bows and wide puppy dog eyes is cute and all, but it's that and the fact that you bounced on a 7in strap-on attached to a stuffed bear that turns people on.” ryujin said. “you have a face for porn.”

“is there a difference?” your friends looked at you. “duh , of course!” haechan said. “camgirling is mostly done in the comfort of your own home , low production.” he said. “porn is different, with porn there's a script almost like a movie with a crew , and another actor.” you and ryujin both looked at each other. “uh you seem real passionate about that…” he shrugged. “I'm a man of course i do , that's why i know you would be perfect for porn.”

“what would i get out of bad acting in room full of men with hardon watching me be badly fucked by another macho man on viagra and red bull?” you scoffed. “expect a sore clit and a cumshot to the face that tastes like battery acid?” ryujin looked around the cafe where you were sitting , making sure no one heard the conversation. “would you both keep it down?”

“more money, a new following.” he responded nonchalantly , your ears perked up. “go on.” you said now listening. “well the website you use now, it's big but it's niche , only a few new visitors monthly.” he started. “you do one porn video with a good actor with a good following , bingo! you get a new following from his following and it reaches a bigger audience who stumble across your video.” you had to admit although he was loud and you're pretty sure the sweet old lady walking past heard everything, he talked a big game.

“what are you a porn star scout?” ryujin laughed while taking a sip of her hot chocolate. “wait is that a thing?” he asked, you shook your head. “that does sound good, my rent just went up and there's a new pair of shoes that have been sitting in my cart.” you said. “yn don't do porn for a pair of louboutins and rent , get a roommate.” ryujin said, trying to be the voice of reason. “would you do it?” you asked her.

“i love you so i would never lie to you.” she said. “yeah , give me the script.” the three of you busting out into a fit of laughter. “plus if you don't like it then you can easily go back to camgirling.” she said. “and i don't think all male pornstars are bad.”

“and you know this how?” she looked at you. “you think i don't watch porn?” she questioned. “the acting? horrible but who's watching porn for the plot.” haechan raised his hand. “haechan be fucking for real.” you snickered. “what big dick delivery man and hot lonely milf is a work of art.” he said with a serious face. “oh he serious i think.” ryujin said. “that's the scary thing.”

“you know not all the acting is bad either.” ryujin spoke up. “yeah jeno is good even my dick gets hard when i listen to him speak.” you choose to ignore him. “who's jeno.” you asked. “you don't know jeno? the lee jeno, he's huge in the porn world.” ryujin said, you scoffed. “sorry im not familiar with the ryan reynolds of porn.” you said. “you think ryan reynolds would do porn?”

“lee jeno is a huge pornstar; he doesn't even just do porn , he's a model, he walks on runways as well , he's invited into classy spaces despite showing the world his dick.” the girl explained. “and i heard the girls he fucks on camera…” she said. “those orgasms are real.” haechan nodded in agreement. “i heard that too.”

“if you could get with him, you'd be set.” you rolled your eyes. “if he's as good as you say why the fuck would he film a video with me?” you scoffed. “pussy is pussy and money is money.” ryujin shrugged , the horrified worker walked past making the three of you laugh. “my god ryu , you sound like a man.”

“check him out; i swear you'll understand why he's famous.”

“come in , come in.” you flashed a smile to the camera; this wasn't a camgirl video, but a regular live that you sometimes did because your fans wanted you to — for what? you don't question, they pay you to just talk half naked. “how was everyone's day?”

you read through the comments; thanking the commenters for the donations. “what did i do today?” you read off. “well i ran some errands, got a few new toys.” you smirked. “oh and i had some coffee with some friends.” you said. “they told me i have a face for porn.”

the comments blew up with people agreeing. “i guess you guys agree as well.” you giggled playing into that act they loved so muched, reading more comments.

6inchking. what i would do to film a video with you.

user34.52. fuck yes , i would kill to see you fuck someone else.

allsizesmatter. you should film with lee jeno.

“oh? i keep hearing that name, my friends said the same thing.” you said. “is he really that good? maybe i should watch some of his videos.” you said, rolling your eyes at the comments that were in disbelief that you watched porn. “guys don't be ridiculous , why wouldn't i watch porn?” you laughed, grabbing your phone. “let's look him up.”

you typed into the search bar; waiting for the screen to load. “let's see if he lives up to what everyone says he is.” the screen finally loading, the most finest fucking man popping up on your screen. “oh he's really good looking.” you said scrolling through the many pictures. “really good looking.” you almost forgot you were on live — not only was his face godly , it looked like he was sculpted by the gods himself.

user24.52. look at her , already turned on just by his photos.

user22.63. to be looked at by her liked that.

“guys stop.” you giggled, cheeks red. “he is cute though.” you said. “im already so tired from the day.” you said; and yes you were tired, but you also wanted to watch on of his videos. “am i gonna watch one of his videos?” you smiled innocently , before shrugging. “i guess you guys will never know will you.” you blew a kiss to the camera. “bye bye.” you turned the camera off.

after that you wasted no time, climbing into your bed. your phone in your hand as you get comfortable, reaching over into your nightstand grabbing your rose toy; taking off your panties , pulling down your bra , sighing as the wind hit your nipples. “fuck.” you scrolled through jenos account— he had 5.5 million followers; way more than your messily 345k, he was a big deal.

you scrolled through his videos , settling on the most recent one. clicking the video — normally you'd skip the whole “acting scene” but this guy was known for his good acting so you decided to see for yourself.

you were a little bored at first, but as the scene went on you came to the realization that it was one of the best scenes you'd ever watched when watching porn, even though the actress was good , it almost seemed like regular video — besides the bright production lights and 4k hd cameras , and the fact that the beautiful actress herself was dressed in expensive lingerie and heels. her makeup done to the nines.

and then there was jeno; he was just as fine on video than in camera. his voice alone had you itching to touch yourself, which you did— fingers ghosting over your nipples; eyes closing. you almost forgot about the video, until you heard moaning. you opened your eyes to jeno sticking his cock into the girl. believe it or not , you weren't fucking just anyone , you actually only had sex with a few people , but their sizes compared to his were vastly different.

you understood why he was so famous; jeno was extremely good at his job. it was like you were watching a real couple fuck in their bed; jeno was rough; but not like those horrible videos where it looked like the girl wasn't enjoying it — the way the actresses eyes were crossed, it looked like she was very much enjoying it.

you curled your fingers up into your g-spot, thrusting your fingers in and out of your dripping hole. your moans , jenos and the actresses filled your empty room. you wanted to drop the phone and just finish already, desperate to cum , but you couldn't, it was like you were in a trance. the actress came with a loud scream. “oh fuck.” you moaned as jeno brought the girl to her knees , cumming all over the girls face — lord how you wished it was you.

your legs crossed over your hand as you came, back arching off the bed. “fuck!” you sighed as you came down from your high , the next random video playing on your phone. you turned it off , desperately trying to catch your breath. he had this effect on you and all you did was watch his videos.

getting up to clean yourself off; washing your body and your hair. getting out , drying off. you threw on an oversized shirt not bothering to put on underwear, it was just you. grabbing a snack before making your way back to bed to watch tv.

meanwhile a few miles away; jeno sat in his chair scrolling through his feed. he hated night shoots , everyone was tired and ready to go home. the actress today just wasn't good , her acting sucked , she was bitching about everything; how she hated the script; how the outfit was ugly — how she wanted him to cum. he was all for women wanting to what they wanted , but damn how was it his fault he wasn't turned on enough to cum as much as she wanted.

“jeno?” his manager and best friend jaemin , walked into his dressing room. “is it time to go?” he said, not looking up. “well … no, she's still complaining, something about you being too big.” jeno smirked. “so we're figuring that out now.” he said. “can we just sat fuck this shoot and go home?” he said. “im doing them a favor, i don't need the money.” he said. “yeah sure.” jaemin said. “what can they do?” he told the assistant on hand to tell them they were leaving. “what did you want?” he said, putting on his sweats. “when? oh to just show you this.”

he pulled the sweatshirt over his head; taking the phone from his friend's hand. “what am i looking at, who is this girl?” he stared at the screen , watching you talk. “she's cute , new girlfriend?”

“i don't date, she's a camgirl.” he scoffed at his friend. “her?” he looked at you once again. “stop fucking around her?” you looked so innocent, dressed like a doll , cute makeup, cheeks extremely pink from blush, normally jeno thinks that makeup look is crazy, but you made it work. “she doesn't even look like she's seen a porn film.”

“not everything is what it seems my friend look.” he clicked another video— and he swore he was watching another girl. “did she just?” jeno was shocked. “yes , she did.” his friend smirked while he stared in shock as he watched you take a 9in toy down your throat without gagging. “no gag reflex , if she has a boyfriend he's a lucky fucking bastard.”

jeno pushed the phone away; not that he didn't want to see it, but he also didn't want to cum in his pants to a video in front of his friend. “why are you showing me this?” he said. “you know i don't do camming.”

“yeah , but people want you both to collaborate. apparently she talked about you today and the internet is going crazy.” jaemin said. “she has good following , not as big as yours , but that shouldn't even matter , bro she doesn't have a gag reflex , i’d do it for fun.” jeno picked his bag up, slinging it over his shoulder. “does she even have a manager? does she even want to do porn? why am i asking the questions that i pay you to already have answered before coming to me?”

“she's a independent artist i think, but I'm sure she'd answer a dm.” jeno lifted his eyebrow. “yeah , because she'd answer a random message asking her does she want to do porn , bro she gets those messages daily.” he said. “im sure i could work it out.” he said. “well then come back to me when you do.” jeno slapped his friends chest. “now let's go im hungry.” he said. “i’ll send you that link to the full video , you have to see it.”

“which one did you watch?” haechan asked. “why are we having this conversation right now?” you said cheeks red. “you've literally told us about how you — the recent one.” you interrupted ryujin before she embarrassed you. “i watched the recent one.” she nodded. “oh that one is good, that actress is hot.” she said , hyuck nodding in agreement. “she is.”

“she was, they both were.” you said. “and the acting was good , i actually watched it.” haechan pointed. “told you sometimes the plot just hits.”

“i thought i was watching a couple fucking, either one , that actress is in the wrong business or two , he's a good fucker and she wasn't acting.” you said. “she actually looked excited for him to cum on her.” you could still hear the moans playing in your head. “okay snap out of it , no one wants to watch you get turned on in public.” ryujin said , haechan scoffed. “speak for yourself.”

you laughed , your phone buzzing making you break away from the conversation; it was a message from twitter dm. you ignored it , thinking it was a normal everyday dm from a fan. you sat your phone down only for it to go off multiple times. “girl you got a boyfriend we don't know about? who the hell is texting you like that?” ryujin picked up your phone. “probably a weird fan, im gonna close my dms”

that didn't stop ryujin from clicking the messages, ready to troll the person. “oh girl , i don't think so.” she handed you the device back. “what is it?”

reading through the text messages. “what is it , don't leave me out.” haechan whined. “it's from jenos manager.” ryujin said , haechan sat up from his seat. “what let me see.” he snatched the phone. “oh my god , jeno wants to film with you.” he said. “it's like the porn gods answered us.”

“must you act like a neanderthal? it's probably a fake account.” haechan clicked the account. “it's verified and there's pictures of them together , they seem close.” he said. “he wants you to call him , he gave you a number to call.” he gave you back the phone. “oh my god let's go back to yours so you can call.”

they basically dragged you back to your apartment after that, forcing you to call the boy. “you both have to shut the fuck up if i put it on speaker.” you said typing down the number into the keypad. “probably about to call a random guy just so he can jerk off to my voice.” you pushed the call button. “don't you do that already.” you scoffed. “yeah but i get paid for it.”

the three of you sitting around the bed waiting for them to answer. “hello?” you picked up the phone. “is this na jaemin?” you said. “yes is this yn? i know your voice— wait, not like that.” your two friends snickered. “it's fine, i almost didn't call you, i thought you were a weird fan.”

“understandable; it's probably a weird text , but it me and everything i sent was true.” he said. “it is?” your eyes widened. “s-so he really does want to film with me?” you asked. “yes , he does.” you wanted to squeal , but you didn't want to seem desperate. “oh that's cool.” you said. “oh that's cool?” ryujin whispered to herself. “shut up.” you gritted through your teeth. “excuse me.”

“oh nothing.” you said. “oh okay, well first thing, we set up a meeting with you both.” he said. “just so when you film it won't be too awkward , then we film.”

“that's it?” you said. “that's it , you both show up to film, we'll provide everything else for you.” you looked at your friends who nodded their heads. “how does that sound?” he said. “i guess that's fine.” you said. “great! i’ll let him know, are you free tomorrow?”

“tomorrow? uh yeah sure im free.” you said. “great i'll send the address where to meet us see you tomorrow!” you hung up the phone. “oh my god i can't believe that just happened.” you tossed the phone down on the bed. “this is crazy , you get to film with lee jeno.” haechan said. “i almost want to be in your shoes.”

the next day you got ready for the meeting; putting on your best outfit — so you wouldn't feel so nervous, and maybe to impress them a little. jaemin had sent you the address the night before and lucky for you it was in walking distance from your place. “im almost there's , so I'll call you back when it's over.” you said the restaurant in your view. “you better and be careful , just cause there hasn't been a serial killer porn star, doesn't mean there can't be one.” ryujin ordered. “okay im here.”

you quickly said your goodbyes, before hanging up. you reached for the door , walking into the restaurant. you looked down at your phone, ready to send the man a text when someone tapped your shoulders. “yn?”

“oh hi.” you smiled. “i was just about to text you.” you put your phone away. “you're right on time , jeno is over there.” he said “let's go.” your hands were sweating from nerves as you approached the table , the man himself coming into view. “don't be nervous, he's not as intimidating as he looks on camera.” he said. “jeno.”

the boy looked up from his phone; and he almost did a double take. you really didn't look like what you did for work; gorgeous? yes. but he just couldn't see you doing what he saw you do the night before. “oh shit.” he stood up. “hey.” he said , holding his hands out. you reached for his hand , shaking it. “h-hi.”

“both of you sit down , sit down and get comfortable.” jaemin said. “before i give you some space , let's go over the details.” he sat down. “okay.” you smiled.

jeno didn't need to listen; jaemin would just repeat it over for him — instead he just looked at you, studying you. he watched you fiddle with your nails while listening to his friend intently. his eyes traveling down to your lips, biting the bottom one. “jeno?” jaemin knocked him out of his thoughts. “what?” he watched you shuffle in your seat. “i said you understand all that?”

“yeah , yeah i do.” he said. jaemin knew he didn't , but he'd explain later. “we filming on wednesday, it will only take one day , but it's a all day shoot is that fine?” you nodded. “of course.” you said. “that works for me.”

“good , now i'll give you both some time to get to know each other.” he stood up. “i’ll get you both some food as well.” he walked away. “thank you.” you called out, it fully hit you that you were left alone with jeno again , he smirked watching you shy away once again. “i guess this is the real you.”

“h-huh?” you asked , he sat up; putting his elbows on the table, watching you. “the bows really do change how one would look at you.” your hand came to your head. “no , keep them in , don't take them out.” your hands immediately went to your lap. “cute.”

“me-me?” you gulped. “is anyone else sitting there love?” your cheeks were flushed , to jeno it was like your already pink cheeks were now red. “here you guys go.” jaemin came back with two plates. “i ordered enough steak for you to share , and some pasta.” he said. “i’ll leave you two , jeno play nice , she's perfect for this and we don't need you scaring her off.”

“go ahead.” he said. “eat.” you picked up the fork nervously, picking up a slice of the meat. “now put to your mouth and eat it.” it felt like he was gonna eat you alive , you put the steak to your mouth , biting it. “good girl , i can already tell im gonna like you.”

“so tell me , why'd you want to do this?” jeno asked. “do-do what?” you asked. “do I need to spell it out baby , porn what made you want to do this?” he said. “most camgirls stick to that.” you sat the fork down , taking a sip of water. “well it's kinda stupid.” you said , he waved you off. “tell me.” he said. “well my friends told me i’d be good at it.” you said. “and you just listened to them?” he raised his eyebrows. “you must agree with them.”

“i guess.” you said. “i didn't really understand what they meant by that.” he sat back listening. “i do.” he really did , truth is jeno spent the night before watching your past streams , and fuck did you put on a performance. he had to force himself to put his phone down before he started shooting blanks , his hands and his cock covered in his cum as your moans played over and over on his phone. “well why do you do it?”

“me?” he asked , shrugging. “because i like to fuck.” he laughed, watching your eyes widen. “don't look so surprised baby it's really not that surprising,” he said. “i like to fuck and i like making money , why not do both?” jeno never wanted to be a pornstar , his main dream was to be a model , turns out it wasn't that easy — but it was easy to pick up a camera and film himself fucking. “b-but you're a model , you don't need to do this.”

“you're right i don't , but here we are.” he eyed you up and down , eyes shamelessly stopping at your bust. “just like you.” he said. “y-yeah.”

“you've watched a few of my videos haven't you?” he asked. “i watched yours.” you wanted to lie , but how could you when he was being so truthful. “a few.” you gulped. “so you know im not gonna go easy on you right?” the way he talked so confidently it sent shivers down your spine. “but im sure you can take it right?” your body hot. “i mean im bigger than what you've taken but im sure you can learn to take it right?”

“i can take it.” you said, quickly covering your mouth. “yeah? let's see on thursday.” he bit his lip. “give me your phone.” he said. “here.” you handed it to him. “you listen well , i fucking love that.” he typed down his number. “i don't give my number out to every actress.” he said, handing you your phone back , jaemin returning back to the table. “we have to go soon.”

“that's too bad , we were just getting to know each other.” reaching for your card. “relax , im paying.” jeno said. “i-i have money.” you said. “i'm sure you do , but i didn't ask.” he said. “yn do you need a uber?” jaemin asked, but you were too busy making googly eyes at jeno. “oh no , i-i live a few minutes away.” jaemin nodded. “well it was nice to meet you , why don't you head out first and we'll stay behind and settle this.” you smiled. “thank you.”

“just show up on wednesday as you are ready to film.” you nodded. “of course!” you smiled, about to walk away when jeno grabbed your hand. “your phone love.” you took it from his hands. “thank you.” and just like that , the boys watched you leave out. “you done making googly eyes?” jaemin said. “can i take you home so i can get to my date?” jeno rolled his eyes. “hey don't get upset with me, nothing stopped you from following behind her and getting a pre show of wednesday.”

wednesday came quick; you have a busy few days before — you wanted everything perfect , getting your hair done; waxing your eyebrows and other areas. you hadn't used the number jeno gave you , scared to use it , even though your friends encouraged you too. “you're about to have his cock inside you , this phone call would be nothing.”

still you didn't budge; it probably didn't even bother the boy, he could've easily called someone else.

the production had arranged for a car to pick you up from your place to take you to a location; you read the script on the way there , it was a simple script since it was your first project on this scale — something about neighbors. it really didn't matter to you, you were excited but nervous. “we're here miss.” it was an actual house; a nice one.

you got up to the car , thanking the driver. “okay.” you said to yourself. “let's do this.” you said, the door was open so you just walked in , people running around, cameras and lights everywhere. “you must be yn?” a woman came up to you. “hi?” you said. “you are?” she smiled. “im kim , I run the production company that films the videos jeno is in.” she said. “you do?”

“yes i do; is it a little weird because im a woman?” you shook your head. “no of course not!” you said she laughed. “we're all about comfortability, to make sure you and the actor are both comfortable.” she said. “jeno is already on set , he's normally never here early.” she said. “actually he's normally late.” she said. “but enough about him , let's get you to your dressing room.”

she guided you to your room, opening the door. “this is your first shoot so i wanted to make sure everything was perfect.” she held your back guiding you in. “we have a stylist that will help you , along with make up who will make you even more beautiful.” she was extremely nice. “thank you so much.” you said. “don't worry about it , just get relaxed and ready to film some scenes.” she said. “the stylist will be in here soon , make-up as well.”

she left you alone after that , you looked around the room , she laid out a display of snacks that made you smile — your phone ringing , you took it out of your pocket , furrowing your eyebrows at the unrecognizable number. “so your phone does work.” you recognized the room , whipping around. “je-jeno.”

he walked into the room. “it's been a busy week.” you said. “yeah?” you nodded. “you aren't wearing the bows today,” he said. “gonna tell the stylist to change that.” you nervously took a step back. “i like the bows , let's put them in the movie.” you nodded. “ok-okay.” he was close enough to smell his cologne. “relax , im not gonna bite.” he said. “at least not now.” you squeaked as he pressed against you. “later im not promising anything.”

“i could definitely take you right here right now.” he confessed. “give you a quick training on taking me before later.” he said, his body looming over you. “but i kinda want to wait until later.” he smirked , your knees almost buckling under you. “let's wait until later, yeah?” he said. “ye-yeah.” you sighed in relief when he stepped back , finally letting you breathe. “i’ll see you in a bit love.”

you didn't have time to process what just happened before the stylist and the makeup artist both shuffled in. “out jeno out we have to get her ready.” he was quickly pushed out. “gosh.” the stylist said. “he's never here this early all of sudden he's early.” the makeup artist turned to you. “well there's the reason right there, you are gorgeous.” you smiled. “th-thank you.”

“let's get you ready.”

the outfit wasn't much different from what you normally wear , just a lingerie version meaning it was much shorter; so short you could see your ass , poking from your panties — but it was still cute. “you look pretty.” the stylist said, picking up the bows. “per jenos request, hope you don't mind.” she placed the bow in your hair. “done.”

they left , kim returning soon after. “you ready.” you nodded. “let's go.” she guided you to the front where the scene would take place , the cameras ready. “yn , hey.” jaemin said. “oh hi.” you waved back. “you look nice , you ready?” you nodded. “i'm a little nervous , this is much different than my room.”

“don't worry about it; it's your first big production.” he said. “just do your best.” he reassured you. “jeno is done with make-up so we should be starting — five minutes!” someone shouted , you giggled. “in five minutes.” he said. “good luck.”

“the scene starts with you in the kitchen.” the producer guided you to the kitchen , leaving you alone. you leaned over the counter , scrolling through your phone while you waited. “you look too good right now.” jeno caged you in between his arms. “th-thank you , you smell nice.” it just slipped out your mouth. “oh , i-i di-didn’t — you smell nice too.” he said , your cheeks were already red enough. “makes me want to eat you up right here.” he didn't know how much he really was effecting you , anymore of what he would be doing and you'd be begging him to fuck you right there. “okay actors , get in position!”

“good luck princess.” he walked away, leaving you to pull yourself together and get ready for the scene. “are they actors ready?” everyone got into position. “okay, rolling in 5…4…3…2…1 , start !”

the scene went exceptionally well; it was build up scene that leads up to the actual sex scene — but even those scenes were hot and heavy; at least jeno made it like that. it took a few hours to film , making sure to get every angle. “okay great, the next scene jeno you what to do.”

jeno didn't know if he had it in him; the resistance as the camera guy yelled for the scene to start again — the strength to hold himself together once he got his lips on you; he was a professional, but with you it felt like his very first scene.

“you can do what you want.” you spoke up , back into character , you were a natural — almost like you were talking to him outside of character. “what did you say?” he said , damn near forgetting his line. you looked down at your fingers. “to me , you can do what you want to me.”

there was the girl from the streams; it flicked just like that; your other persona , the one from the restaurant that told him you could take it — and he was about to put it to the test. “i can?” his big hand wrapping around your neck. “you don't know me that well but you'd let me do what i want to you?”

that was basically your current situation with the man; yeah you had only met him four days ago, but you'd let him do whatever he wanted , on and off camera. “y-yes.”

“that's real whore like of you.” his hand squeezed your throat. “real whore like.” he said, slamming his lips against yours. unfortunately the scene took place on a couch so he didn't have much room to work with , but it didn't mean anything to him — besides he'll just fuck you into your mattress on another day.

the kiss was rough; his hand squeezing your throat as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. “fuck.” he cursed, pulling away. “get on your knees.” he pushed you down , the camera close to your face as he unbuckled his pants. “gonna fuck your face.” he pulled his cock out , it was definitely bigger than the dildos you were use to. “hey.” he slapped your face. “come on, be a good whore and suck my cock.”

he grabbed the base of his cock , slapping it on your cheek. “open slut.” he shoved his length inside your mouth , and much like your previous streams , you took him into your throat without gagging. “yeah , fuck swallowing my fucking cock like that.” he groaned , holding the back of your head moving you up and down on his thick length , also moving his hips. “cock sucking slut , how many cocks has this throat taken?”

he was using your mouth; the cameras all there filming it turned you on even more , the many people watching in the room as he fucked your face made you hornier. “yeah fuck!” he had to force himself out of you so he wouldn't cum fast. “get up.” he pulled you up , throwing you to the couch. “ass up, now slut.”

he pulled the dress up , revealing the matching color set they put you in. “dumb slut is wet from sucking cock.” he slapped your ass , you moaned , he pulled your panties down , your folds covered in your slick. “messy pussy , gonna stuff you full of my cock.” he maneuvered your body on the small couch. “arch your back.”

he pushed your head down on the couch seat. “gonna make you take it all at once.” your whimpering turned into screams as he abruptly shoved his entire length into your pussy. “hell you're fucking tight.” he groaned , pulling out slamming back inside. “fuck!” he began to fuck into you , holding the back of your neck. “such a whore.”

his thrust were brutal and unrelentless; the camera catching everything — his cock stretching you out more than you've ever been, the squelching sounds from your cunt it was embarrassing, having people hear that ; but the embarrassment soon was forgotten as he went deeper. “my fuck -oh my- oh my fucking god.”

he let out a lust filled chuckle. “so stupid baby.” he slapped your ass. “my cock really made your brain turn to mush.” he abruptly pulled out of you , slapping your ass , your legs shook. “turn around.” he flipped you on your back.

you looked up at him with teary wide eyes. but he could see the lust in them. “that innocent look doesn't work on me.” he slapped your cunt. “i can see through whores like you.” he lined his cock up with your hole. “innocent looking but ready to take any cock they can get.”

this new angle had you reaching for anything , jenos arm; the couch cushion — his cock had you grabbing at the air. he pulled down the front of the lingerie , your tits now bouncing along with his thrust. the rumors proving to be true as you felt your orgasm approaching. “you're clenching around me , fuck your pussy is suffocating my cock.” he growled. “fuck im gonna cum!” you screamed out. “cum slut , wet my cock with your cum.”

he had your legs open wide , holding your shaking thighs. “cum.” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came, soaking his stomach and the seat below you. a high pitched moan coming from your mouth as he kept going. “fuck keep cumming on my cock.” he slapped your poor clit rubbing rubbing it. “yeah im gonna - fuck - im gonna cum.” he groaned. “fuck im gonna cum all over your face.”

he pulled out of your twitching hole , standing over your face , stroking his cock. the camera was up close again as he came — and he came a lot. he groaned, throwing his head back as he covered you in his seed. “fuck.”

you laid out on the couch , his thumb still rubbing at your clit as your reached your final orgasm , your thighs shaking uncontrollably. “cut!”

jeno almost forgot about the camera; ready to bring you to another orgasm. “je-jeno.” your shaking voice pulled him from his horny state. “shit im sorry.” he pulled away , desperately wanting to taste you. “almost made you squirt again.” he smirked. “now how would we explain that? because the camera is off.”

“get her a cover.” he shouted , someone running over to you both , he covered your body. “jeno.” they handed him a robe. “you did so good.” the staff handing you fluids. “felt like watching a couple have sex , you're a natural girl.” you nodded with a smile. “are you a natural princess?” jeno spoke up once they were gone. “or is it because those screams were real?”

you lowered your head , shying away from his gaze. “don't hide from me now , i know your real persona , and these cameras maybe done rolling, but i'm not done with you yet.” he whispered , just as you were pulled from your seat by a staff member and whisked back to your room. “you ready to go?” jaemin came over. “no need to drive me home tonight,” he said. “why not?” asked Jaemin.

“because im not going home tonight.”

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #nct fanfic #nct x female reader #nct x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream hard thoughts #nct dream hard hours #nct dream x female reader #nct dream x reader #lee jeno fanfic #lee jeno x reader #lee jeno smut #jeno x reader #jeno smut #jeno fic #jeno hard thoughts #jeno hard hours

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velaenam · 3 months ago

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𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

◦ ♡

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc. you are a successful aerospace engineer, a girlboss, with terrible luck in romance. let's hope this strangers website brings you out of that rut! 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 – swearing/foul language, strangers, slow burn, tba notes – not proofread. bear with me as i attempt this cute romance. mc will be unbearable, and the reader may come off egotistical, but you're a bad bitch, so we're gonna highlight that. this was just a bit of world building >< sorry if its a lot of reading-- mention of said stranger site is NOT mentioned on this chapter. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 1 of many ! next chapter

you were a successful woman. in fact, you were so successful you built your own company from the ground up. you were an aerospace engineer. you and your lifelong friends were revered in skyhaven as gods of some sort, due to the great contribution you’d all make with the DAA in such a short time. whom had the connection to partner with the DAA, none of you dared to speak of it.

okay, that was a lie. your dad was once a very– very high ranking official within the DAA board. you definitely had to admit that your connection may have played a pivotal role in you and your team landing the partnership, but not to diminish your fantastic career. you are an extremely smart and cutthroat woman. a neuroscientist's greatest feat may very well be getting their hands on your brain to dissect it. your teams many tests and builds have contributed to the creation of damn near all of the modern fighter pilot planes.

so how did such a prodigy such as yourself land in such a messy blind date?

your eyes scan the man in front of you. his smile, smug, his cologne, cheap.. to you. you can’t deny, he did dress well, but you also couldn’t help but your guttural instinct. he was talking your ear off about bullshit that quite literally did not concern you. next to you was your friend, stacia. her date was just eons better. he didnt reek. he looked comfortable, personable, and he cracked jokes.

you swore to yourself that you’d cuss stacia out when you both reconvened, but for now, you had to hold out for her.

‘babe, this hot guy is asking me out on a date.. but he said its a double date– his fucking cousin wants to meet you! please , you have to help me’

‘i’m going to be busy this weekend.’

‘busy doing what?!’ she rolls her eyes– its insane youd lie to your bestest friend. ‘i have to check some batches at work.’

‘work work work– this is why you’re single! your free day off, and youre working! ’

ouch, but it was true. you don’t revel in the world of love. you were so busy burying yourself in work and making sure shit went perfect that you completely neglected your personal life. sure you had flings, here and there, but that’s it. a couple days, hell, one last for a week– but nothing serious. your parents may have even worried you wouldn’t be giving them grand kids. but that’s okay! that is why you’re one of 4.

as you speak, the man in front of you speaks over you. “you are so gorgeous, woman! i am so lucky you are my date!” you felt your skin crack. if theres one thing you didn’t tolerate, it was disrespect. you weren’t going to be called ‘woman’ when you had a name. call it an ego, but it was a well deserved one.

people worshipped the ground you walked, as they should, and you weren’t going to allow just anyone have your time. you shoot a glare at him, and you shift your hand in front of you, signalling him to quiet. stacia and who ever the hell she was with had went outside so it was you and whomever the hell this guy was. “i have a name.” you start, deadly calm. he blinks, eyes glossed. had too much wine. “im going to call it a night. take care.” you abruptly stand, fishing through your purse and slapping a band on the table. “should cover the tip as well. take care”

your red bottoms click as you walk out of the restaurant. you walk towards stacia who was sucking faces with the man who was her date. upon seeing you she breaks away from him, and scurries towards you, “hey! where are you going?” you shake your head, smiling, “got a busy schedule tomorrow. i paid for dinner. call majors if you need a ride home.” you wave at the both of them as you slip into your vehicle. before you drive off , you contact majors, your family chauffeur to be on standby for stacia just in case.

you make it home to your skyrise abode. the valet takes your keys gracefully and you make your way to the elevator, clicking through your phone, seeing the hot goss of your friend group.

same stuff– pregnancy scare number 10 from talia, a billion comfort msgs from all of you, marinas boy problems, and your message

‘date was a bust. not my type.’ as you exit from the msg your eyes close. you already knew you were about to be barraged by “your expectations are too high!” – “you didnt even give him a chance!” – whatever excuses they had for these men. you chuckled to yourself. at least you didn’t whine constantly that you were single.

there was this one guy who had caught your attention. he was a doctor at the akso hospital in linkon. however, he just wasn’t interested in you. you could just tell. or really, as much as you could tell in passing.

the ones that were interested ended up asking for your number or showed more significant interest in you. he just simply treated you and he went on his way, like a normal uninterested doctor, which was fine by you (not really. you thought he was really fucking hot)

you slid your apartment card on the handle and step inside. you flipped the lights on as you set your key and bag down on the designated spot. slipping off your heels you stretch, back aching form the shitty conversation you had with that random. you pout as you pass the living room to the kitchen. you sometimes wonder if you were being too complicated. somewhat. but you were so important to the city that you couldn’t help but be guarded. your job was important, and you wanted to date someone who could keep up with you. you grab your medicine from the cabinet and a glass of water, knee deep in thought as you start your nighttime ritual.

you sit down at the family table. your father had called you down earlier because he wanted to speak with you regarding an important matter, but everything was an important matter regarding the old man, so you agree, reluctantly . you stare down at the glass table that reflect your own face. it was spotless, just like your mom wants. you scan the porcelain vase in the middle of the table, appreciating the blue and white features it contained. as you dawdle your eyes meet your dads. “hi sweetheart.” his warm greeting echos through the room. “hi dad. i’m not in trouble am i?” you half joke, really hoping you werent. he gave you a soft chuckle before sitting across from you and shaking his head. he put his hands on the table, intertwining his fingers together as he stared down at you. an allowance would be made or a proper scolding was in place

“bug, i’ve had this talk with all of your siblings, and it’s your turn.” he starts, you attempt to scan his facial features on what it may regard, but to no avail. “pardon my language, but your mother and i worked very hard to get where we are. i don’t ask for much, but when the time comes, trust your gut. if you fall in love. fall in love with a person who wont disrespect you. marry a person who won’t use your money or career against you. only you can make the judgement of whom that is. i dont care if you become stuck up ‘cause of this. but i’ll be damned if i let my kids marry… beneath them.” he finishes.

you heeded his words very carefully and you carried that with you throughout high school, throughout college, through now. there were many men who tried you. some scared for their life at the sight of your parents. some tried to rush things with you once they found out about your family status. some simply ghosted you. those were just simple precedents that somehow ruined your thoughts on dating.

not only heeding his words, but you used that as a good foreground for your expectations. does he have to make more money than you? hell no, because you have enough money that you donate monthly. you raked in, big bucks. you just wanted someone who wasn’t vain. not begging for expensive luxuries. you wanted a gentleman. someone who opened the door for you without you asking. someone who kissed your hand when they saw you. someone who loved you and understood you. called you by your damn name. took interest in what you had to say.

bonus points if they liked planes.

thats your favorite thing in the world. planes. aviation. its your job.

your internal clock kicks in, and you yawn. you finish putting your clothes away, and you sit in your bed. you check your phone see the messages. you see a couple of messages popping up and you roll your eyes, preparing for stacia

‘he was boring af. i actually dont blame u this time. but my date was so sweet. i might do a second date.’

‘btw he asked what u did cuz he saw the wad of cash on the table. i told him ur a lawyer fyi.’

‘thanks love, gn’ you text before you shut down for the night. you weren't too keen on people knowing about your occupation/career so you ask your friends to manipulate the truth sometimes. you're on social media here and there, and for the most part, the aviation world knew who you were, but people were dumber than they let on, and some people cant put two and two together, so you try not to give them a reason to.

“ let’s rerun the wind tunnel test with the revised control surface parameters– if the drag coefficient drops even slightly, we might hit our efficiency target.” you command, your eyes staring holes into the data. your colleague nods, obliging.

as they start, your phone rings. you roll your eyes, and look at your phone.

‘jenna’

she rarely called, so this mustve been important. you hit the answer button and put your phone in your ear, motioning the others to continue without you. “let me know what the results are.” you walk out of the building, where it was a bit more quiet. “hello?”

“hey, how are you?” – “i’m good, jen, how are you?” you hear her laugh, “i’m good. sorry to call you on the job, but i have a request. kind of important. i need you to come down to linkon. asap.” you groan, rolling your eyes again. back and forth linkon and skyhaven rapidly was so annoying to you, but you sigh. “yeah– i’ll see you in 30.” – “thanks. ill meet you in the lobby”

you return to your testing and cut them early for the day. you’d explain that you had a family emergency and that you’d have them be paid a full day. after you finish shutting the facility down you had majors grab the family jet to meet you outside of the facility. normally you’d take the coelum express– since you actually enjoyed taking it, but she’d sounded so urgent that you didn’t wanna lag.

your eyes scan the building. ‘hunters association hq’ your heels clack, echoing throughout the main lobby. the receptionist greets you with a big smile, and you return the gesture. “good morning, i’m looking for jenna.” she scrambles through her computer, suddenly in a panic

“oh! i’m so sorry- i didn’t know she had a meeting today?” her frantic was cut short by a pair of footsteps. “you’re fine. she’s my sister.” jenna smiles warmly at you and you nod at the receptionist thanking her, and you turn to jenna. you grin at your older sister as she leads you down a corridor of elevators.

she leads you through the office, taking in how pleasing the building looks, “you guys have a gorgeous facility.” you hum, running your fingertips on the glass countertop. jenna chuckles, her hands behind her back, quietly walking next to you, “much appreciated. hows work been?” you give her a sheepish look, “it’s going pretty well. we’re running stress tests on the new airframe, only one day of pulling an all nighter– nothing is on fire. yet.” she chuckles at your response, and you join her laugh. it resonate in a way that complimented you both. definitely sisters.

“so the reason that you’re here is because of something related to a jet and a wanderer that we caught on camera.” she starts. you listen intently. you weren’t really related to your sisters job. you just made and tested planes, and you were never dealing with wanderers, so this came to an odd surprise. as she shows you the footage, it shows that a jet flying flawlessly- only seconds later it seemed to have lost power, nose diving straight down when a wanderer got near it. your brows furrow, confused at how the close proximity of the wanderer managed to scramble the power of the jet. your eyes study the video, attempting to find any intricacies that may give you any answers, and unfortunately, nothing lets up. you take a peek at jenna and her team, and as you tap your finger on the surface of the computer you hum. “can you give me a copy of this, so i can show my team? i need to discuss with them on how we can figure this out..” you start. you pull your phone out and pull up your notes.

“also.. how hard would it be if you can possibly capture a wanderer.. we may need to test them out in close proximity..” you continue, typing it all out on your phone.

as you look up, you notice the hunters staring at you in awe, including your sister. a soft smile etched on her face. they were all totally fangirling at how cool you just were. it wasn’t everyday that they got to see the master at work. they wracked their brain on this situation for days before calling you.

“is the pilot okay?” you pique, as the analytics team hand you a floppy disk. jenna gives you a curt nod, before you return the gesture, “if you want to pass his information to my secretary so we can compensate him for any possible damages, i would greatly appreciate it.”

the pilots of the DAA were just as important to you as anything in the world, because after all, they put their trust in your company to keep them alive.

when you and jenna were left alone, you sigh, pinching your nostril, “this is going to be so annoying. i hope you know that.” you state matter-o-factly, slouching down on the chair. jenna nods, staring at the video once more, “hopefully you don’t have to use too much energy.” she states, referring to your evol, “i wouldn’t ask unless it was important.” she reassures you. you put a hand on hers and smile across the table, “i know. it’s fine– really.”

nobody aside from your family and work really know of your ability. it goes hand in hand with your job, really.

ever since you were young you had an interest for planes. your parents thought it was a cute obsession you gain as a little kid, like when jenna had an obsession with dolls as a kid, you had one for planes.

it happened one afternoon. it was ‘take-your-kids-to-work day’ and you were walking around the hangar.

you’d been walking through the rows of jets, when your eyes land on ‘maverick’ your dad’s pride and joy– that happened to be currently out of commission. as your hands made contact with the jet’s sleek wing, a warm jolt shot through your fingertips– followed by a flood of images in your head; pressure readings, airflow calculations. you briskly pull your hands away, blinking, disoriented, as the jet seemingly came alive beneath your touch.

you freaked out, because this wasn’t normal. you didn’t just feel the jet. you understood it. you slowly realize, that your brain worked different. way differently. you placed your hand on the plane again.

you noticed that there was a slight misalignment in the primary fuel injector. you didn’t understand what the hell that meant, so you quickly grab your father and his engineers, telling him what you had just discovered. at first they laugh it off, confused as how a 13 year old knew a thing about fuel injectors and the like, but after you kicked and threw a tantrum, they were forced to check it out, and surely enough your diagnosis was spot on. they replaced the faulty component, and shortly after, ‘maverick’ roared to life.

your dad looked at you with the biggest, and proudest smile he’d ever given you.

you don’t often use your evol, because it came at a cost. you’d get killer migraines, become disorientated, and the like, so you used it sparingly, and hence why jenna shared her grief of having you do this task. but everyday you spent fixing your creations is a win in your book, so you ultimately didn’t mind it.

you make small talk with your sister, catch up a bit, as you both walk back down to the lobby. she escorts you outside and you give her a tight hug. “thank you again, please update me when you can.” she says, as you give her a sweet smile, nodding as majors opens the door for you.

it had been a couple days since you saw your sister about the wanderer problem, and you’re currently at a gala held for the recent graduates of the aviation academy. you and your dad were the primary speakers of the night, and you couldn’t help but feel nervous.

as you were confident and powerful, you weren’t too keen on public speaking. not that you were bad at it, you just enjoyed when the attention wasn’t on you, let alone damn near hundreds of people in one room staring you down.

you stare at the mirror, lips pursed as you finish applying your lipstick, and straightening your dress up. you wore a black maxi dress that sculpted your neckline and outlined your chest, but in a classy way. waist adorned with a small belt, with a long cape sleeve that flows gracefully from your shoulders. you smile at yourself in the mirror before you clear your throat, readying yourself to socialize.

as you walk out of the bathroom, you take in the row of future pilots in front of you. holy fuck what did they feed these hunks? you blink, staring at how hot some of them were. tall, check. chiseled jawline, check check, sexy.. check! you take your phone out and record the event, giggling internally. your friends were going to definitely bitch at you for not asking them to come. you send the message to them and you walk over to the punch bowl where many of the men were giggling.

in the middle of the group was your silly father. retelling stories of his time in the force.

“ general!” you call out playfully, and the men all turn their heads towards you, causing you to feel super self conscious. maybe you shouldnt have done that. he gives a hearty laugh, motioning you to come over. you reluctantly do so, your warm smile striking the hearts of the men.

“men, this is my genius daughter –” you give them a small polite wave, and you scan them all. they were definitely intimidated by you- except one man. your eyes linger at his purple gaze, longer than you wanted to. he was the tallest one of the lot, his brown hair contrasting his perfect eyes. his shoulders broad, jawline sharp as if he was sculpted by a god. to say this man was handsome was an absolute understatement. your favorite part of this man was his smile. that was the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen in your life.

you tear from his gaze, before you look at your father. “i was just telling them about maverick!” – “ahh, your 5th child?” he nods, laughing once more, “i was just about to tell em how i was able to get it up and running again.” he starts. here he goes. before he started, you hold your hand up to cut him off, respectfully, “dad i hate to stop you, but they’re looking for us.” you mutter, nodding over to the committee of speakers. his eyes widen scrambling up, placing his drink down on the table and standing up, straightening himself. he nods to the men and excuses himself, “congratulations men. i am extremely proud of you all.” and with that he walks off, with you trailing behind.

caleb watches you walk off, his eyes never leaving your figure. his eyes finally snap back to the group once you were out of eyesight, and he tunes back into the conversation, “the generals daughter is fucking gorgeous.” his friend muses matter-o-factly, an understatement, he thinks to himself. “i hear that they’re going to give the ‘maverick’ to one of us rookies. who do you guys think its gonna be?” – “probably caleb!” they all take a look at him, and he only gives them a laugh. the man was too busy thinking about you to really capture the conversation.

the pilots find their place in their seats as the room dims. you shuffle into the stage alongside your dad. this was an esteemed event. it wasn’t held every year. much to the unfairness of the previous generation graduates, the gala was held every time the amount of graduates exceed the projected amount. this was honestly more of a connections event. previous legends, special DAA registrars, important persons, etc. the graduates can figure out how they want to approach such treat, (like the pilots talking to your father.) however unfair, the other previous graduates who aren’t given the lavish gala treatment do get compensations, so in a way, everybody can win, depending on how individuals look at it.

your father takes the mic in his hand, his arm resting on the podium. the chatting halts. you had always admired your dads ability to command a room. probably why he was so good at his job. he clears his throat,

“ladies, and gentleman, esteemed faculty, distinguished guests, and most importantly, the graduates of today. it is an absolute honor to stand before you today as we celebrate the incredible achievement of these exceptional men and women. today marks the culmination of years of dedication, hard work, and sacrifice that have led to this very moment, where you are no longer just students, but now, graduates of one of the most prestigious and demanding programs in the world. graduates – your journey has been demanding, and you’ve proven yourselves capable of not only mastering the art of flying, but leading with integrity and making critical decisions, when it matters most. you’ve earned your place here, and the skies are now yours to navigate.”

you smile gently, looking around– as best as you can from the damned spotlight, but you barely could see a thing in a sea of dark blue. caleb listens in absolute awe, but he couldn’t help stare you down. you were quite literally the apple of his eye. he had never seen anyone with the beauty that you possess. his lips curve into a slight grin as he watches you look around. a part of him hoped you were looking for him.

“as pilots, you’ll continue to learn and grow, but always remember; you are more than prepared. you are part of a proud legacy, and it is your time to carry that forward. on behalf of all of us here, congratulations, we are incredibly proud of you. fly high, stay safe, and may your journey be as remarkable as the achievement we celebrate today. thank you.”

your father nods, and the entire room erupts with a thunderous applause, that you almost- just almost teared up at how wonderfully put that speech was. you clap alongside the audience and he steps back, allowing you to take reins of the podium. you smile, a little too wide, but you were giddy with excitement,

“hello everybody– i surely cannot top my fathers congratulation speech for you all but i will definitely do my best.” you hear an eruption of laughter before you go on, “today we stand here not only to celebrate your incredible achievements, but to acknowledge the bright future ahead of you. you’ve all worked tirelessly to reach this moment, and we are immensely proud of each one of you. in recognition of your hard work and the vital role you will play in the future of aviation, we are thrilled to announce a generous donation of 5.5 billion diamonds (dollars?), which will go toward supporting your ongoing training and development.” the entire room erupts in gasps, hushed whispers. your own fathers eyes shoot open, clearly surprised about the insane lump sum. you chuckled into the mic, sultry, deep– something that woke caleb’s neurons up. alongside his friends, he was clapping loud.

“additionally… in a gesture of commitment to your success, we are excited to gift a dozen state of the art aircraft to your training fleet, ensuring that the future of aviation continues to soar to new heights.” another round of applause, even louder than the last. it was starting to deafen you, but you smile, continuing, “these contributions are a testament to the belief in your potential and bright future you are all shaping. you have proven that you are ready for the skies, and now you have the tools to continue reaching for the stars. congratulations to each of you, and we look forward to seeing all you will accomplish. fly high, and know that this is the just beginning of an extraordinary journey.” you close, and the room erupts one last time, whistles flying around. caleb stands up, along with his friends, giving you and your dad an ovation, even though this was an event for you all.

you bow as you make your way down the stage. photographers snap a picture of you and your father as you both make your way towards the graduates. you were looking for that handsome hunk in particular.

as your eyes dart around, caleb stands up, slowly making his way towards you. he’d tower a couple of people around him, but your eyes connect. as he starts to move his feet he feels a sudden yank. “caleb!! you did it!!” his childhood best friend squeals– his pipsqueak, dragging him down, her lips connecting with his cheeks and her arms snake around his neck and shoulders, dragging him down. you take notice of that, your eyes not breaking contact with each other, and you watch as he drops his hat on the ground from the sudden motion he’d experience.

‘oh well of course the hot one has a fucking girlfriend’ you think, finally breaking eye contact. you were definitely not going to look at a man who was taken. not even one bit. another vent to add to the group chat later.

#lads x reader #love and deepspace #lads caleb #lads #lads mc #loveanddeepspace #caleb x reader #lnds caleb #lnds #calebmc #caleb lads #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x non!mc reader

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rem0n-art · 2 months ago

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SPOILERS FOR THE WELCOME HOME SPRING UPDATE (LONG POST)

1 - Missing Wally

Wally seems to be missing in these images, it's pretty odd considering he's supposedly the star of the show

2 - Wally's Introduction Card

He's not looking at us anymore? Also his canvas is gone, it could be the same one in the new storybook with Wally and Julie

Also Wally's script is just distorted ringing... he's not picking up the phone (Also it says 'Go back' instead of 'Goodbye!" or whatever the old website said)

Wally's png says 'ringring' (REALLY complements the one above huh)

3 - Secret Wally Audio

The red button on the toy telephone is clickable! It leads to an audio of Wally, and he doesn't seem to be at his best....

Also the audio's labelled 'ringring' which is the same as the Wally png!

Apparently the link updated with a picture of a chair in the dark:

There's also a hidden transcript found in the link (special thanks to @pinkfishu for the former transcript) which states as follows:

(Low, constant static plays for several seconds.)

(Loud, boisterous and joyous. He laughs.) You found me! Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha!

(An electronic noise plays, then cuts off along with static. Voice is slow and halted, with varied inflection.)

Hello, You.

It has been a long while…

It was Homewarming. Now it is not. The snow melts. The grass grows. The sun shines. The flowers bloom.

Home is here. Do you remember Home.

Can you hear him.

(PAUSE. The heartbeat slowly rises. HOME makes sounds.)

I can hear Home.

I want to hear you too.

Talk.

(LONG PAUSE. Firmly said.) I know you are here.

Talk.

(PAUSE.) …That is alright. I will speak for all of us. I am happy to.

You are here now, but for a long while, you were not.

And I… Could not feel anything… I could not find this place.

The channel was dark. I do not know what happened.

When I found You again everything was not where I left it.

But… I do not understand.

(PAUSE.) I know what words are. I saw words. I followed them. I followed them!

You.

Are you in the dark.

Are we in trouble.

(PAUSE. Sounding worried.) Trouble… Trouble… But I have to continue… So that you… So that we… So that I can…

…I do not know what to call what we are doing, neighbor.

But everything has a name, doesn’t it.

…Do you remember mine.

(PAUSE. Warmer and joyful.) You do, don’t you. What a relief.

(Said thoughtfully.) Everything has a name.

(PAUSE. Jovial.) But what trouble! What trouble!

(LONG PAUSE.) I do not know what to do… But keep talking to you… You are waiting for me. You want to know why I keep…

(PAUSE.) Talking…

(Warmer again.) Have you heard of ‘lend an ear,’ before. When your neighbor says this… They do not mean to borrow your ear. They mean to listen.

Do you know how to lend an ear. Barnaby said… First you cup a hand around your ear… And then you wait for a sound. That is how you lend an ear.

Home cannot speak like I can. But I know Home speaks to me… The door opens and shuts. The window groans and creaks. So I lend an ear to him.

…So why do I speak to you.

It is because… You will lend me an ear.

I do not know why. Maybe the gifts make you happy. Maybe you like Welcome Home. Maybe you like our neighbors. Maybe you like me.

Maybe you scratch my back… I scratch yours… Barnaby says that too…

I know we are not in the same room. It is another silly bunch of words.

After all… I can not get in. (Assertive sounding, I made you a promise.) But do not worry. I am getting better.

(Returns to his monotonous disposition.) But for now… To pass our time…

Will you lend me more than an ear, neighbor.

Will you find the name for me. For what we are doing. For what we see.

I’m going to say… Yes.But to avoid trouble… Let us talk another way, just like Home. Isn’t that the most?

I know how we will talk. We will play.

Do you know how to play. I have learned from my neighbors how, but the way each plays is not the same.

Do not worry. I will teach you how to play, just like all of them. Each and every one.

Would you like to know something funny. We can’t hear the flowers, even when you lend an ear. Not like Julie can.

Julie says they still have something to say, though. I have heard from her… A rose without thorns… But still has leaves… Is filled with fear… And with hope. When both are not there, however… There may be neither hope nor fear.

Isn’t that something.

So… Let’s play a game called… Gather.

What do you do?

Gather good words from the flowers. Do not worry, we will not pick them. They are happy where they are. Julie has given us so many, so I know you will find them.

This will be fun! I feel joyful already!

…I can not do much as I am now. But, I will practice.

Remember… Until you hear me again, keep your smile merry, and always know that I love you, very much.

(PAUSE. HOME makes sounds.)

Home is saying good bye… Oh, no, I forgot to do that too.

Good bye, You!

3.5 - Neighbourhood Page

The forest at the back seems more darker and ominous, it's pretty unsettling

The black ink part at Home was also scribbled (paint splattered over the website iykwim)

Adding this and the transcript of the hidden audio, we can clarify one thing: Wally was silenced. And he is not too damn happy about it (valid crashout if you ask me). The restoration team had completely blocked him out, even locked the guestbook (I don't know if it's just me or we're not allowed to see the guestbook entries at all, probably because of Wally's drawings) and removed other aspects such as having him on the homepage instead of Julie or his transcript audio at the start. This is probably to stop him from contacting us, and possibly to uncover more about Welcome Home, and using springtime as a distraction.

Wally sounds... rather unhinged in the audio, scared yet mad. He seems to mention Homewarming (evidence for the 'melting snow on Home's door theory') and how it was there, and it was gone. I guess he wasn't prepared for the transition, which makes sense since he was pretty much caged up (Is that the word for it?)

He tells us to play a game called 'GATHER' where we gather words from the flowers, which I'm assuming is a direct lead to the 'Floriography' board game (refer to this post i found for more information).

4 - Home's PNG

Was this always the name to the home png? Just curious (Ok so I've been told it's always been like this so best to not overthink it 👍)

Also there seems to be snow at the door, which is weird because the whole neighborhood is in full bloom - perhaps even mid spring- but somehow there's still snow? My guess is that it's a metaphor that while all the other neighbours have moved on to Springtime AKA the new update, Wally seems to be 'stuck' at the previous update, hence his disappearance at the group images on the website.

(honourable mention)

apple pie enjoyers we won/j /nsrs

5 - Julie And Her Siblings

This scene at the "What Makes the Flowers Bloom" handbook really had me thinking a bit, for starters:

Jonesy claims they stick to one colour, something that Julie definitely counters.

Franny comments the bigger the horns, the better. Note how all of them have big horns except for Julie. This is an obvious lead to the claim that Julie is somehow "less" than them.

It's clear the way the Joyful siblings act towards Julie make it seem like she's inferior or undeserving of her current role in the neighborhood. I'm not saying they judge or hate her, I personally think it's the narrative that's making them seem like that.

Not only that, but there's also this:

The Joyful siblings are in a band but Julie doesn't seem to want to join them (or perhaps she's refusing against her will?). Further context in the next one.

6 - Hidden Links

Also showing this tumblr post for hidden links across the website! Credits to them ofc: https://www.tumblr.com/citrineaura/780675339022139392/all-hidden-links?source=share

Three hidden links are connected together to tell a quick story of Julie.

For a short summary: Julie is trying to get a very strange looking flower to bloom (there's this really good theory I found that it might a winter flower by @drawingwithnara41 so I added the link in order for you guys to check it out) only to get her more and more frustrated and obsessed every time she fails to the point of having a whole mental breakdown at the last video. Her voice also seems to change as well??

(Also side info: A similar black tulip seems to also be in the 'Floriography' board game? Could this mean something?)

Anyways, back to the hidden video: She keeps saying it's not her fault, we can clarify she feels disappointed in herself for failing since she claims stuff like "What would Frank think when he sees you?" and even tells the flower that "it won't be around for much longer", at least from what I've heard, presumably due to the fear of others seeing her as inferior, mostly caused by her frustration to abide by her roles and possibly even her personality. It's obvious she has very low self esteem due to her continuous behaviour of making others happy while completely ignoring her own emotional state (as seen in the storybook featuring Wally and Julie, Julie is the one making the other neighbours happy, but there is no vice versa seen).

Also, one hidden link (/revengeinnocenceregardtemptationtears) leads to an image of a disturbed Frank.

The png is named "oh no", it could be from Frank's viewpoint as I think at that scene he's seeing Julie's breakdown or possibly the outcome of it, which is probably killing the flower out of frustration. That makes sense due to how Frank acts on most hidden secrets over the past few updates. I'm guessing he's concerned for her.

Yet again, it could be from Julie's viewpoint, probably from realizing Frank spotted her, though I'm more firm with it being Frank.

6.5 - The Bug-Dog Toy

At the very end of the last hidden video of Julie, this dog-bug creature flies down to the flower and the clip stops. This thing is also seen at the 'Miscellaneous' category.

Not sure what the dog-bug toy is supposed to mean, but I can see it's a part of a possibly toy series called "Grow-a-pal", also if you check out the name of the png, it's revealed that the toy's name is 'Buggle', which is probably a mix of the words 'bug' and 'beagle' (quicks thanks to @sunnydxys1 for that theory ^v^)

It's also mentioned again at awayfrompryingeyes.net inside a toy box. W comments on receiving the toy box on one of the packages he was sent and shows a picture, but it's pitch black. Brightening it up (kudos to @wallys-left-eyeball for teaching me how to brighten up the image lol) will lead to this:

The letters at the bottom spell 'GLE' which is obviously 'BUGGLE'. I don't know if this toy's lore is of it's own or is linked to Howdy and/or Barnaby, but maybe there's more uncovered secrets we need to find for this.

#sorry to all of my followers as welcome home will be all i'll post for the next few weeks #sincerest apologies 😅#welcome home theory #welcome home website #welcome home #welcome home spoilers #welcome home puppet show #welcome home arg #welcome home update #welcome home wally #welcome home julie #wh julie #julie joyful

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heavyhitterheaux · 3 months ago

Text

Girl Errands

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: You try to distract your husband from the multiple bags piled up in the back of your car, which was the result of you running "errands"

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Glancing down at your dashboard in your car, you saw that it was now around two in the afternoon and figured that Joe would probably be making his way home soon.

So, that left you with one task.

Beat him home so that he doesn't see the multiple bags that are a result of you telling him that you were going to run “errands”.

You in fact did not run one errand according to Joe if you were to ask him since they consisted of Target, TJ Maxx, Starbucks, JoAnn Fabrics for more things to crochet, and last but certainly not least browsing the Savage Fenty website for new lingerie which you knew would end up getting torn and would make Joe buy you more.

As you pulled out of the Target parking lot, you were met with a stop sign before turning on the main street and coming to a red stop light. You just so happened to glance to your right to see no one other than your husband drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and waiting for the light to change.

“Shit!” You muttered as you glanced behind you to look at the multiple bags in the backseat.

When you turned back around, Joe just so happened to catch your eye and you smirked before you gestured for him to roll down his window.

You might as well distract him.

“Hey handsome! You got a girl? I'm trying to go on a date with you tonight.” You said as you winked at him while he couldn't help but to laugh at your horrible attempt at a pick up line.

“I have a wife actually and I highly doubt she would like that very much.”

“Well, I won't tell if you won't.”

“I'm trying to save us both from ending up being six feet under. She's short, but don't let that fool you.” He replied as you turned up your nose and glared at him.

“I'm sure I can take it. So what do you say?”

Before Joe could respond, he glanced in the backseat of your car and made a face before turning his attention back towards you.

“Uh oh.” You said quietly before you heard your husband's voice.

“Baby! What do you have in the backseat!?”

“Nothing! Bye!” You told him as the light turned green and you pulled off without another word.

But your luck ran out when you were once again caught at a stop light literally less than a mile from your house right next to Joe as he gestured for you to roll your window down and you shook your head no.

So as soon as you told him no, your ringtone for him started blasting throughout the car and you hesitantly hit accept.

“Princess….”

“Oh thank goodness. There's this weird dude who keeps following me in his car and pulling up next to me every time I'm at a stop light.”

“I am not doing this with you today. I refuse.” Joe said as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Refuse what, babe?”

“Don't act dumb. Now what is in the backseat?”

“Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“For me to know and for you not to find out because I was supposed to beat you home and hide everything.” You honestly told him.

“Hmm, and how's that working out for you?”

“It'll be fine once I get home before you do.” You replied as you hit the gas once more and sped away from him.

“I am literally right behind you and you better slow down before you get a ticket.”

“I'm pretty and I'll be let off with a warning. Works every time.”

“Why do you love to stress me out on a daily basis?”

“You're the one who asked me to marry you so you did this to yourself.” You replied as you pulled into the garage with Joe right behind you.

Joe got out of his Porsche before coming over to the driver's side door of your car and opening it, seeing you smiling at him, but he did not look amused.

“Hi baby!” You greeted him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs wrapped around his waist.

Placing a kiss on his lips, he didn’t return it which made you frown.

“Give me a kiss and fix your face.”

Joe rolled his eyes before kissing you and continued to make a face at you as he pulled away.

“Is this supposed to be serving as a distraction?”

“A little bit, but I can take my clothes off if it isn't working. Now how about that date you promised me?”

“I never even gave you an answer.”

“You're undressing me with your eyes so that's a good enough answer which obviously translates to yes.”

“We can go on a date... right after you show me what's in the backseat.”

“No.”

“Fine. I'll just get my hair cut and run errands in my gray sweatpants.” Joe told you as your eyes then went wide.

“I… Just get the bags please and I'll tell you.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.”

#joe burrow #joe burrow blurb #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x black reader #joe shiesty #joey burrow #joe burrow fanfiction #nfl imagine #joe burrow fluff

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greengoblinswifey · 4 months ago

Text

The Deal

pairing— nerd!luigi x popular!bitchy!reader

summary— Luigi was the nerd who always had his eyes on you, the popular girl who was way out of his league. You made a habit of teasing him for it and he never knew he could have a chance with him until you made a deal. If he got you an A on your assignment, you'd let him take you on a date. Based on this request.

warnings— praise kink, oral(m,f), fingering, praise kink, slight sub!luigi, hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare, fluff.

a/n— Luigi’s website for updates!

Luigi had always stared, it was impossible not to notice those piercing eyes lingering on you in lectures, even in the library. He was subtle about it, but you knew. He wasn’t like the frat guys or the football players you used to date, and he knew that too. No matter how deep his crush ran, he never thought he’d stand a chance.

So, you gave him one, for fun. It started small, teasing him whenever you caught him looking. A slow smirk, a roll of your eyes. Then it escalated, leaning in close just to watch him stammer, calling on him just to hear him scramble for an answer. Your little entourage found it hilarious. But the best part? Making him do your assignments.

“I could help you study instead,” he had suggested once, trying so hard to sound confident.

“Why the fuck would I study when I have you?”

And like everyone else in this school, he fell to his knees for you. No questions asked.

The last assignment had been brutal, and you’d made him an offer just to amuse yourself. “If I get above a 90, I’ll let you take me on a date,” you had smirked, watching his face light up like you’d just handed him the moon. Cute.

And, well, he was. Not just in the typical nerdy way, but genuinely. Dark curls, sharp jaw, broad shoulders that you knew hid something impressive under those hoodies.

All week, you kept up the act, teasing him relentlessly. Your friends joined in, laughing, asking if he really thought he stood a chance. He never had an answer. Maybe he didn’t believe it himself.

Then the grade came back. 98%.

You were shocked—actually shocked. You turned to him, eyes wide, before practically throwing yourself into his lap, squealing. “Oh my God, Lulu! You’re a genius!” Your lips pressed to his cheek in an impulsive kiss, even using the nickname you had given him and when you pulled back, his face was bright red, completely frozen.

You got up, laughing in his face.

“S-so, does this mean I get to take you on that date?” he stuttered.

You paused, tilting your head, really looking at him. You’d been so busy playing with him that you hadn’t noticed just how attractive he really was.

“Yeah,” you said, surprising yourself. “You can.”

And the way his breath hitched? Worth every second.

A couple days later, he was at your door to pick you up, but honestly? He still couldn’t believe this was happening.

You, the popular girl everyone wanted , the one who always had something snarky to say—had actually agreed to go out with him. And now, you stood in front of him, looking so effortlessly gorgeous that it made his chest feel tight.

“Still staring, Lulu?” you teased, stepping outside, the smirk on your lips and the way the nickname rolled off your tongue making his head spin.

He exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he opened the car door for you. “Guess I can’t help myself.”

You slid in, watching him as he walked around to the driver’s side. Even when you weren’t messing with him, there was something about you that made him feel unsteady in a way he liked more than he wanted to admit.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” you joked.

He shot you a glance, shifting into drive. “What, you thought I’d back out?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time a guy chickened out around me,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, well. I’m not like them,” he scoffed.

You grinned. “No, you’re not.”

And for the first time all night, you were the one staring.

Luigi was a proper gentleman all night. From the moment he picked you up, he was attentive, opening doors, pulling out your chair, complimenting you like you were the most breathtaking thing he'd ever seen. “You look beautiful,” he said softly, as his gaze lingered on you from across the table.

And for the first time, you actually talked. Really talked. It took effort on his part, his usual nervousness was there, but he pushed through, and you realized just how intelligent he was. Thoughtful, passionate, with so much more to offer than just the schoolwork you made him do.

Meanwhile, the wine had left a pleasant buzz in your veins, making everything a little hazier, a little bolder. And Luigi, he looked good, really good. That sharp jaw, the way his tie hung slightly loose now, how his dark curls made him so much more attractive, when he leaned forward, elbows on the table, talking about something that made his eyes light up.

By the time he drove you home, you could feel the buzz of the alcohol mixing with something else entirely. He had given you his jacket, paid the bill without hesitation, and now, on the drive back, he was rambling.

“I had such a great time tonight,” he said, gripping the wheel a little too tightly. “Thank you f-for actually going out with me. I mean, I know you could’ve bailed, and I wouldn’t have blamed you, but you didn’t, and—God, you are just—stunning. Like, I still can’t believe—”

You cut him off mid sentence, leaning over and pressing your lips to his. He gasped into it, shocked, but you could feel how quickly he melted, his hands twitching as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

By the time you pulled back, he was breathless.

“Are you d-drunk?” he stammered, eyes darting across your face.

“Why? Was that a sloppy, drunk kiss?” you smirked.

“No—God, no, it was amazing, but—” His face was burning. “Why would you ever kiss me?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing his tie and tugging him toward the door. “Because I want you.”

You barely heard his shaky inhale before you pulled him inside, locking the door behind you.

Then, his lips were on yours again, this time, with more desperation, more hunger. His hands hovered, uncertain, but you could feel the way he shivered when you tangled your fingers in his curls.

And when he let out the softest, most helpless whimper? It made your pussy clench around nothing.

Luigi’s breath hitched as he took in the sight of you, shedding your dress only leaving you in lingerie, his wide eyes raking over your figure. He had always thought you were stunning, but this left him speechless.

“You— you’re gorgeous,” he murmured, almost in awe, his hands hesitating before resting on your waist.

You smirked, amused by his reaction. “Cat got your tongue, handsome?”

He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “No, I just, I never thought I’d ever—” He cut himself off, choosing instead to trail his fingers over your skin.

His admiration sent a rush straight to your pussy and when he finally gathered himself enough to kneel, shift your underwear, kiss your clit and murmur soft praises against you, you felt something shift. It wasn’t just the usual teasing, the push and pull you were so used to, it was something more.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered as he ravished your pussy. “So beautiful, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

Your fingers tangled in his dark curls, pulling him into your pussy, his nose nudging your pelvis.

“Is this okay?” he asked breathless, fingers circling your leaking hole.

You nodded frantically, bucking your hips, needing more.

His tongue lapped at your juices and he slipped a finger inside you, curling, like he was trying to memorize your walls. No one had ever been so focused on your pleasure.

“Fuck, Lu, you’re so good at this,” you moaned, hands gripping his hair.

Your praises willed him on and he hooked a hand under you, tilting your body upwards as his lips engulfed your clit and his finger thrusted inside you.

“Just like that, I’m about to—” Your words were cut off by your own scream and an intense orgasm washing over you. Luigi carried you through it, slurping up your juices as your entire body convulsed.

“You taste better than anything I’ve ever had in my mouth,” he panted, finally sitting up, lips glistening.

You smirked, pulling him into a sloppy kiss. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him on top of you. His cock was practically bulging out of his pants and you flipped him over, undoing his belt and pulling down his bottoms.

As his cock sprang free, you couldn’t help the audible gasp that left your lips. Luigi was huge.

Now, it was your time to stutter. “Y-you’re so big.”

He was thick, long, veiny and hard. It almost looked painful. Hesitantly, you took ahold of him, your hand barely able to go around it.

“Really?” he asked, shooting you a curious glance. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“That’s the least of my worries. Fuck, I want it to hurt,” you said, practically drooling as you stared down at his cock.

His breathing grew heavier, body practically shaking as you held his cock in your hand. But then, you let go of him, a smirk playing on your lips as you trailed your fingers down his chest after you ripped his shirt off, the buttons flying everywhere, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch. He was already breathless, watching you with wide, eager eyes, his hands gripping the sheets like he was bracing himself.

“You’re so easy to tease,” you murmured, tilting your head as you let your fingers ghost over his abs. He was built like a Greek God. “So worked up already, huh?”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You, you’re just—” He cut himself off with a sharp inhale when you licked his shaft, the warmth of your breath making him shiver.

His reaction only made you want to push him further. You placed a lingering kiss to his tip, feeling the way his cock twitched beneath you. “I haven’t even started, and you’re already falling apart,” you teased.

A whimper slipped past his lips, and he squeezed his eyes shut, his hands fisting the sheets even tighter as your lips wrapped around his tip. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

That sent a thrill through you. The way he was unraveling so easily, the way his breath hitched with every tiny movement, it boosted your ego.

When you finally took him down your throat, all the tension built up in him melted into a broken moan. His fingers trembled as they reached for you, barely managing to grip your shoulder as if he needed to ground himself.

“Feels so good,” he breathed, his voice laced with disbelief, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “You’re—God, you’re amazing.”

His praise came in soft, desperate gasps, each one more raw than the last, and it only spurred you on. Every shaky breath, every whispered compliment, every helpless sound he made, it was enough to keep you bobbing your head steadily.

The way your tongue swirled as you took him into your throat, the way his pre cum and your salvia dripped down your chin, the way your eyes watered and the way your mouth stretched wide to accommodate his size had him whimpering so loudly.

“F-fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m gonna last,” he managed to croak out, cock throbbing in your mouth.

You hummed around his cock, bobbing your head and massaging his balls as he bucked his hips, his entire body trembling. Your lips wrapped around the tip, suckling as you stroked his shaft and his hot load shot down your throat.

“Fuck. Thank you, thank you so much,” he moaned, toes curling as ropes of his cum coated your tongue.

You seductively shed yourself of your lingerie, your body bare as you climbed on top of him. He stared at you like you were a masterpiece, breathing heavy and his cock still hard. You took ahold of him, dragging the tip along your folds.

“You’re always such a tease,” he whined.

A primal sound left his lips as you sank down onto his cock, your nails digging into his chest. The air was knocked out of your lungs as took every inch.

“You feel so good. Oh my God,” he whimpered, hands resting on your hips.

After you finally adjusted to his size though it still felt like you were being ripped apart, you lifted yourself up and began bouncing on his cock. Your hands were flat on his pecs, your ass slamming down on him as you rode him like your life depended on it.

His whimpers went straight to your pussy, the sound like music to your ears as you circled your hips and moved back and forth. Every movement felt like he was brushing against your cervix.

His eyes averted between your tits and your wet pussy gripping his cock. “You look so beautiful riding me like that.”

A smirk was on your lips and you lifted yourself even higher, slamming yourself back down and making the entire bed shake as you bounced.

“Rub my clit,” you cried out, feeling your orgasm approach.

Without missing a beat, he began rubbing your clit in harsh circles as you moved back and forth. He felt like he would black out, the sheer pleasure and how good you felt almost too much. You wrapped your hand around his throat, the action making his cock twitch and you knew he was close.

“Cum with me Lu. Cum inside me, you deserve it,” you panted, bouncing wildly.

He wrapped his arms around you and you fell on top of him, your entire body shaking, your pussy clamping tightly around him as you squirted on his raw cock. The rush of liquid sent him over the edge and as you came, you felt him cum deep inside you, his warm, sticky load filling you up.

You lay on top of him, still catching your breath. Luigi was staring at the ceiling, chest rising and falling as he tried to gather himself. Then, he looked at you as you looked up, eyes soft, admiration written all over his face.

“You’re absolutely breathtaking,” he murmured.

You smirked, but there was something tender behind it. “Yeah? You weren’t so bad yourself.”

His face flushed, and he looked away for a second, running a hand through his curls. “Seriously, that was amazing. I don’t even know what to say.”

You rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow as you traced your finger on his arm. “You don’t have to say anything.” Then, quieter, “Just hold me.”

Luigi blinked, like he wasn’t expecting that. He’d seen you confident, untouchable—but never like this.

Without a word, he pulled you against his chest, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You exhaled, melting into him, letting yourself get lost in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For the rest of the weekend, he took you out on more dates—dinners, late night drives and movies. And each night ended the same way, his cock inside you, bodies and hearts growing more in sync.

But eventually, the weekend came to an end, and it was time to go back to school.

As you and Luigi walked through campus, hand in hand, the stares were unavoidable. People whispered, eyes wide with shock, questioning how he managed to end up with you. But Luigi didn’t care. Not when he had you beside him.

And you didn’t care either.

He was yours. And everyone else would just have to fall in line. You were the it couple now.

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egcdeath · 1 year ago

Text

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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rainbowbutterfrosting · 5 months ago

Text

It's odd that Dream commented "Tommy essentially belittles what I do, saying that what he does with his podcast and book are somehow more valuable or important than the videos that I make"

Because:

1.) The context was not there. The quote was about Dream/Those like him creating a hostile space. What Tommy said was

"You called me a promoter of all my other projects [because it's my job]. "I actually give a shit- I put effort into [the podcast, book, and stand-up comedy]. I've ditched the internet for a year [to focus on comedy] because of people like you who have ruined this space."

Yet dream portrayed it like Tommy was saying Dream's content didn't have value, thus placing the latter in a victim position.

2.) During this clip, Dream shows this. A screenshot of a bunch of his videos from 2 years ago.

The reason why? It looks bad to show his current content since he has absolutely not been uploading (and also not performing as well lately). Showing a few things:

a.) Dream is criticizing promotion despite not even uploading often

b.) Tommy has been actively working on things that require much more coordination and skill sets than Minecraft videos

c.) Tommy has been actively working on things that NEED promotion. Who is gonna trust a random website that says there's a tommyinnit tour? Or a book written by him?? Promotion is inherently good for social media careers

d.) Dream promotes his merch midway through the video. Like what. Pick a lane.

And finally, maybe obviously,

3.) Dream is truly attempting to rotate this around. He just likes spending time with his friends :((( he's a coder so he likes to code :((((

Yeah no, this isn't about your content in general. Otherwise Tommy would be going onto every youtuber's page and giving the same treatment. This is regarding a slow-burn over several years and a final explosion over recent passive aggressive treatment

I'm sure that somewhere, a definition of manipulation and logical fallacies has Dream's picture there

#i probably have other thoughts but I have a fucking essay i need to write lmao #i should write abt dsmp drama instead of why videogames are art /j #BUT SERIOUSLY THOUGH. WORST TOPIC WHILE DREAM FUCKING UPLOADS.#mcyt #dream situation #dream negative #dsmp #dream smp #tommyinnit

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wtfsteveharrington · 1 year ago

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after midnight | carmen berzatto x reader

summary: chicago is expensive, okay? so you pick up a job outside of the restaurant which just so happens to involve your camera. everything's fine until richie stumbles upon the website and shares it with camry.

contents: perv!carmy, male & female masturbation, sex toys, dirty talk, cam sex, slight dub-con kinda if you look for it. carmy’s honestly a wreck. mentions of unprotected sex, choking, oral sex, overstimulation. please note!! no formal intercourse takes place yet but it's cuming coming but ya girl wants a slow burn

reader description: she/her pronouns, there is semi a hair scene but i use no real descriptors so still vague!

word count: basically 3.9k

author notes: first fic in a year baby and boy did i lose the plot!! filth!! also i sure love saying fuck in this so enjoy that

part two

★–————————–

Richie’s voice is annoying. It echos, ricochets off the walls, and can’t be contained by even the highest quality of sound proofing. Which is why, at 8 in the morning, Carmen’s already considering having to take Excedrin as Richie bursts through the doors.

“Carmy, Cousin, you’re never gonna fuckin’ believe what I found last night.” He’s out of breath after running in, fumbling around with his phone in a rush to pull something up. He’d spent all night contemplating if he texted Carmen or waited to show him in person. Ultimately the urge to see his reaction won but that didn’t stop Richie from waking up before his alarm out of excitement. “Listen, we’re both grown ass men so I’m gonna say it -“ he’s glancing around to make sure they’re alone, “- So I’m laying there and jerkin’ my shit, right?”

Carmen’s wincing, pinching the bridge of his nose and contemplating every decision that brought him back to Chicago.

“Dude, fuck off. I don’t wanna hear -“ Richie tsks, cutting him off.

“Nah, shut the fuck up because you wanna hear this. In fact, you’re gonna wanna fall to your knees and kiss my shoes and praise my ass as a thank you for finding this.”

He’s holding up his phone, an iPhone 8 he refuses to upgrade, and illuminated on the screen is a video of you. You, on your knees, in lingerie. You, with your fingers dragging down your chest, across the lace that covers your breasts. Your head falls back as you run your thumbs across your nipples. A sound so angelic coming from your lips that Carmen starts to understand why people spend so much time at Church. He’s convinced you’re hand carved by God, or Buddha, or whatever might be up there.

Carmy’s instantly feeling a rush of heat across his chest and his cheeks as he takes the sight of you in. It feels wrong but at the same time the coiling in his stomach feels so good he can’t look away quite yet. “Why the…” He’s cut off by a whine coming from Richie’s speaker as you keep teasing yourself. His brain is frying for a second as he tries to focus on finishing his sentence. “How the hell did you find this?”

“Listen, sometimes I get bored on the same ole sites, okay? Clicked an ad to see who was live and ended up here. Now I stopped watching, obviously, out of respect but this? I’ve known you long enough to know when you gotta thing for someone and you’re not gonna act on it. Also, I caught you staring at her ass as she filled the deep freeze the other night. Kinda gave it away. So this is the way you can still get some pussy while being a fuckin’ pussy.” Richie’s punching the air, clearly proud of himself.

Carmy’s smacking him upside the head, his body now torn between lust and annoyance. “Watch your mouth, alright? That is so fucked, Richie. Put that shit anyway and I better not see you tell a single other person this exists.”

And yeah, he took note of your screen name before he walked away. Don’t judge him.

———★–————————–

Look - There have been a lot of times in his life where Carmen hasn’t been proud of himself. But settling back into bed, hooking his thumbs on the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down to rest under his balls? Yeah, he’s not proud to say the least. After seeing even just the glimpse of you this morning though it’s been all he could think about. The. Whole. Fucking. Day. He watched out of the corner of his eye while you bent over the line to scrub down the wall behind your station tonight. Burning to memory the way your ass just slightly jiggled from the aggressive motion of wiping down the surface. A soft grunt coming from you as you reach for something just a little too high. He finally snapped out of it when the smell of the chemicals he sprayed down on his own surface got a little too strong and refocused.

He wasn’t proud when he ran to the restroom and contemplated just jacking off over the toilet to get some relief. You were clouding his brain, only the rush of the evening giving him some small relief.

You seemed vocal in the small clip he saw. He’s wondering if you would have asked him to cum for you. Would you think it’s a waste that he’s cumming down the drain instead of covering your ass with it? Filling your mouth and making you swallow every drop around him? Or, Jesus Christ, would you wrap your legs around his waist and beg him not to pull out?

So yeah. Carmy’s had quite the fucking day to say the least.

He’s finally home and running straight to bed. His stuff dropped in a heap by the front door and was easily forgotten. Throwing himself back onto the mattress after ripping off his shirt and his pants. Left just groaning into the empty room, his cock twitching at the thought of you. Your page has been sitting on an Incognito tab all day and it’s finally, finally being loaded up. This feels like an invasion of privacy in a way but Carmen can’t quite think logically with how heavy his balls feel and how painfully hard he is. There’s not much time to spare so he clicks the first video you’ve uploaded that he can.

And there you are.

Sitting in the middle of a big bed and rubbing your hands along your thighs, smiling at the camera. His heart is twitching, cock is twitching, everything is fucking twitching. And you’re just sitting there, licking your lips and sliding your hands under the thin material of some weird lace one piece he wants to rip off.

“Hi there, Pretty Boy.” Your voice is music to his ears and Carmy can’t take it any longer. His fist is wrapping around his cock, a broken moan filling the room as he finally gets some relief. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home all day.”

Sue him, but he’s skipping ahead a little. There’s not much time until he cums and he needs to see you. All of you. He’s gripping his phone with one hand, bringing the other that’s around his cock up to his mouth to spit in. His thumb is haphazardly trying to keep the phone balanced while scrubbing through the video until he thinks he’s at a good spot. You’re laid back now, thighs spread for the camera and pussy on display. Carmen’s muttering to himself about how gorgeous you are, longing to tell you in person. You’re holding this royal blue dildo in your hands that’s suddenly his biggest enemy. He deserves to be there, not this stupid, useless chuck of silicone. There’s a whimper from the speaker as you take the toy and slide it along yourself, tapping it twice against your clit. “Fuck, I need you.”

Fuckin’ hell does he needs you too.

His fist is clamped around his dick once again, fucking his hips up into the the slick, tight grip. You’re still teasing yourself by sticking just the head of the dildo in before gasping and pulling it back out. “Please, Baby. I need you so bad, need to come for you.” His brain is breaking. An animalistic urge taking over to fuck you until you can’t move, can’t think, just a blubbering mess begging him for more. Without warning you push the dildo all the way in, throwing your head back with a pleasured scream.

Carmy gasps, hips sputtering and losing their rhythm as he watches you fuck yourself. He’s stroking himself at the same pace you’re moving the dildo, imaging it’s you he’s fucking into. Picturing you laid under him, your breasts covered in hickies because he hates the idea of these… Perverts watching you get off. He wants to mark you, claim you as his. His balls are tightening and he can’t think of the last time he came this quick. It’s almost embarrassing - What are you doing to him?

Your free hand comes up to shove two fingers in your mouth, lewdly sucking them for the camera. The sucking noise now accompanying the wet, addictive sounds of your pussy being fucked. Carmen whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, and twists his wrist over his cock to get a little more friction. Your voice hits him once again as you slide your wet fingers out of your mouth and down your throat. “Oh fuck I’m so close. So, so close. Are you close, Baby? Want you to come with me.” You’re lightly choking yourself, a whining mess.

Carmy’s aware he’s talking to an empty room but he can’t stop himself. “Fuck, oh fuck. Gonna come for you.” And his stomach coils, hips sputter, the phone falling to the bed as he has to let go of it as his orgasm washes over him. He’s slack jaw, warm cum landing on his chest and the sounds of you finishing at the same time ringing out from his phone.

Oh he’s so fucked.

————–——★–————

Carmy slept well for once in his life. His orgasm lulling his body to sleep, dreams filled of you. How beautiful you look sucking his cock. The way you must sound while he eats you out. And he takes his time in his dream. Tongue dragging between your folds as his rough hands hold your hips in place. You’re powerless, made to lay back and let him eat you out for his own pleasure. Tongue circling around your clit but he waits until you’re close to tears to stop teasing. He’d praise you. “Look how fucking wet you are, Princess. You’re already getting the bed wet, aren’t you? Gonna have to lick you for hours to get you all cleaned up. Can you say please, huh? Ask me to suck on your clit, Baby. You know you need it.”

He woke up hard and overstimulated, rolling over onto his stomach and pathetically dragging his hips against the warm bed to get some much needed friction along his cock. Carmy’s telling himself how pathetic this is and forcing himself to push off the bed and get into the shower before he’s late.

Yes, he jacked off in the shower before work.

He had to.

Carmy can’t decide if it’s heaven or hell when he walks in to see you standing in the kitchen.

You’re on your tiptoes, balancing haphazardly as you’re reaching up to change the light. There’s a wobbly step stool under you. Everyone keeps saying it needs to be replaced but it continues to live on. Your face is scrunching up in concentration. Carmy’s chuckling at the sight and ignoring the way he feels his balls tug at the sight of you. “What’re you doing there, Chef?”

You huff in annoyance, finally untwisting the light cover from the ceiling. “Damn light went out right as I started veggie prep. Hate to be a bother but will you come spot me while I’m up on this thing? I’ve seen Fak bust his ass one too many times to trust it.”

Carmy can’t verbally respond at first, instead stalking over to stand next to you. His hand comes up to cup the back of your knee and he’s lying to himself saying it’s for your own safety. To keep you balanced. “Yea well something tells me you’re less clumsy than Fak. I’ve seen that guy fall over while just standing still.”

And you laugh.

You laugh. At him. At his joke. He, Carmen Berzatto, made you laugh. The sound filling his ears and now his damn heart and balls are both reacting to you and what the hell is he supposed to do with all these emotions.

“Don’t distract me up here, Chef.” He doesn’t mind taking commands from you. Silently reaching up to hold the light fixture you’re passing him as you change gears to switch out the lightbulbs now.

And maybe his eyes are wandering around the kitchen to see who else might catch a glimpse of you two together. Everyone who’s in so far is honed in on their prep task and Carmy thanks God that Richie hasn’t shown up yet today.

He’s become quite faithful since he started falling for you it seems.

It happens, by chance, that you feel a little unsteady and Carmen tightens his grip on the back of your leg. Fingers digging into your soft skin. He’s looking down at the stool to make sure it’s level before looking up to take in the sight that is his hand around your leg.

And he stops looking there.

Okay fine that’s a fucking lie - he’s looking up. Eyes trailing up your thighs, following along the curve of your ass. When you have to lean forward just slightly to twist in the light cover he’s convinced he can see the outline of your pussy through the thin material of your leggings. He’s contemplating his options - If he could, would he lean in and lick over the outline? His warm mouth teasing you through your leggings. Through your underwear. Are you wearing underwear? He’s torn between picturing you with or without them.

Or would he slide his hand up your leg, palming your thigh as he goes. Cupping over you and dragging his middle finger across the shape of you. Memorizing the feeling. Would you whine? Grind down against his hand? He doesn’t think you’d shoo his touch away.

God he just knows you’re a needy little thing.

He wonders what it would feel like for you to lick your own wetness from his jaw after he’s decided he’s done savoring you. To taste you on your own tongue when he kissed you after. You��d look so pretty with his cum dripping down your lips too. All fucked out and exhausted and full of bliss.

“Okay, I think I got it fixed, Carmy.” God, he’s so fucked for thinking of you like this as you’re innocently changing the light. Just trying to improve the kitchen and he’s thinking about ruining you. He was so caught up in daydreaming that he didn’t even feel you take the light cover back out of his hand and screw it into place again.

You’re beaming down at him, using his shoulders as arm rests as you bounce down from the stepping stool. His hand grazes your ass - A total accident. He swears it. You reach behind him to sit the screwdriver down, your chest firmly against his. Nothing thinking anything of the personal space violation as you’re used to it from so many slammed nights in the kitchen.

“Thank you for helping me. Sorry it was basically just five minutes of my ass in your face.” Carmy chokes.

His cheeks are hot.

Fuck is he blushing?

He’s sputtering out of his words. “It uh, it wasn’t in my face. Not that I looked, y’know. Just uh… Just - just trying to say that I’m happy to help.” He sounds like an idiot

You’re cocking an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Holy shit, Carmy.” You pat your hands against his chest, not knowing your touch was like fire on his skin. He grabs the screwdriver and makes a beeline to the office to put it away for you.

Sure he grabbed a rag on the way. No it’s not for him to jack off into while he thinks of you.

Okay fine, it is.

“Fuck me.” The only thing Carmy can risk trying to say as the door shuts heavy behind him and his pants hit the ground.

———————–★–———

Carmen doesn’t avoid you now but he certainly makes it hard to get close to you. He’s too distracted when you’re around. Maybe there’s a bit of guilt mixed in too at his new night routine. Leave the restaurant, load your page, and wait to see what happens. New videos? New pictures? You were wormed into the back of his brain and it had to stop.

So your station got moved further down rotation. You’re at the end of the line on the left, he’s at the start on the right. It helps clear his mind, lets him hone in on perfecting what goes to the floor.

He’s able to move quickly, shifts blowing by as the restaurant’s rush takes all his attention. The clock clicks down two minutes till close, everyone working in silence to get the place flipped and go home. He’s wrapping up with Syd, helping her make a few adjustments to expo before grabbing a dead plate off of the end of the line and heading to the office with his food and a cup of water in hand. He needs a mental minute, a bite of food, and to let his thoughts all catch up.

The door’s already cracked and he’s halfway through the entry way when he registers you. Sitting there. At his desk. Your legs are crossed, a cool damp towel resting over your eyes. He wants to turn on his heel and retreat but decides that he can’t treat you any differently just because he’s developed some silly little crush. Running away would be treating you different.

“You good, Chef?”

To which you groan. Different from the ones he’s used to - This one is guttural, pained. You press your hands flat against the rag and will the cool temperature to help the pressure in your head. “Killer migraine, that’s all. Shit was moving so fast tonight and I wacked the back of my head on something in the walk in. Sorry for being in here, Carm. Just uh, needed a second.” You should push up out of the chair, show your respect. But right now you’re half convinced that standing up would be detrimental so for now you’re cemented to the seat.

“Heard.” Carmen nods to himself, sitting down the plate before opening up the desk drawer as quietly as possible. Your knee is pressing into the side of his thigh, grounding and warm. He fishes out a bottle of medicine, shaking out two pills. “Hold out your hand.”

You take a second to brace yourself for movement, sitting up and moving the towel off your eyes. Letting it pile up into a clump on the desk besides you. There’s no way around it - You look pitiful. Pouting up at Carmen as he hands over two pills and his cup out water. You take the pills diligently, taking a few gulps and letting your eyes fall back closed as you will them to kick in instantly. “Can I ask a favor?”

“Anything, Chef.”

Slowly, so not to shake yourself up, you turn the chair until your back is to Carmen. “Will you see if I gotta bump back there? Kinda terrified I gave myself a concussion but I don’t wanna believe it was that hard.”

He snickering, a grin pulling up the corners of his mouth as he steps closer. “Well you’d absolutely fuck me if you needed to file workmen’s comp so I’m gonna need you to be fine, ‘kay? Way too much fuckin’ paperwork to do on a Friday night.” You start to laugh but it’s quickly cut off into a small groan of appreciation as you feel warm, rough hands clasp either side of your shoulders.

Carmen works his way up your neck and catches himself holding his breath as his fingers brush along your scalp. He’s taking his time, savoring the moment, all under the pretense of taking care of his employee. That’s all. “Think we’re both in the clear. You feeling alright besides the headache? Need me to hold up some fingers for ya to guess? Haven’t managed to cut any off so we’ve got all ten to work with.” He’s got you laughing again while rough fingers work their way back down to your neck. The feeling of the vibration of your laughter against his hands sending chills down his back.

Wordlessly Carmen gets to work rubbing your shoulders. Tender, deep. Years of practice rolling out dough and desserts and tenderizing meat coming into play as he continues to knead away at your tense body. You let out an appreciative moan and Carmen has to start thinking of something to keep his inevitable hard on from being obvious.

When his hands come up closer to your neck once again he’s hit with flashbacks of the first video he watched. You choking yourself — Is that something you truly liked? If his hand came around to cup your throat, palm resting on one side with his fingertips firmly against the other, and lightly squeezed would you moan? Rub your thighs together in search of some hint of relief?

“Are you always this good with your hands, Chef? Hmm? Can’t imagine you giving Marcus this treatment.” You’re laughing and can practically hear the smirk in Carmen’s voice as he responds. “Yeah - You uh, didn’t know that? I just love you know, rubbing shoulders. It’s my thing. Kick your ass all night and then rub the stress out.”

He’s blanching a little at his reply. Kinda obvious but okay then, Carmen. You reach up, putting your hands atop his with a little smile. “Well thank you for… Rubbing my stress out, Chef.”

Carmen’s red. Head to toe just bright red. “Of course, Chef. Anytime.” He’s entertaining to say the least as you pat his hands before spinning around in his chair. You snag another drink of water, throwing him a wink before moving to exit the office. Your hand runs along his chest, an appreciative gesture, as you head back to the floor.

——————————★–

Late Saturday night Carmen’s so exhausted that he barely has the energy to take his work clothes off. Falling haphazardly onto his old couch, kicking his work boots off one at a time. His eyes are heavy, body aching, and he almost falls asleep before he gets to see you.

But he’s fishing his phone from his pocket, refreshing the all too familiar landing page to see you’re actively live. How you have the energy is beyond him.

You’re standing there trying on clothes that someone must send in and Carmy feels a pang of jealousy. He’s watching through half hooded eyes as you slip in a pair of shorts, turning your behind towards the camera and pulling them up just slightly to put more of your ass on display. You’re chatting away about the material while slowly pulling them down to reveal just this frilly little pair of panties that was sent in as well.

He’s propping the phone up on the armrest of the couch, laying on his side while he watches you chat away. It’s soothing. Almost like an ASMR video.

Carmen’s not sure when he fell asleep - Somewhere in-between you trying on a third outfit and attempting to clean up your bed from all the packaging. He finds you soothing, comforting. He makes a mental note to hunt out some sort of wish list you must have for these items before passing out and, once again, dreaming of you.

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #so many versions of his name #🤍: the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #♡: carmen berzatto #the bear x reader #the bear smut #the bear #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy smut #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you

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thebatdadnomad · 13 days ago

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ℕ𝕖𝕨𝕥𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕃𝕚𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕣𝕪

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN! Reader Summary: You register a hunk more nervous than a teenage boy and somehow become the reason he returns. A/N: I can be quite the homebody, but I recently went my local library so I could finally read Pride & Prejudice (I think you know why ehehehe) and I think you should go too! Unfortunately, I can't promise Jay'll be there, but I promise this fic will help you imagine what it would be like if he was ;D

It was a slow spring day when a tall guy built like a fridge walked into the library you worked at.

You lounged behind the reception desk doing your usual duties of watching the door as the man in a leather jacket, dark jeans and a grey shirt looked around. He had his hands in his pockets, surveying the area not unlike a cop would during a stakeout. That comparison wasn't unfounded too, you had a cop in here last week. This was Gotham, after all. And though this man was significantly less alert and visibly armed, it was similarly intriguing to watch.

You briefly wondered if the Cheetos some kids left behind that your co-worker was currently cleaning up had caught his eye as he slowly approached the desk. Whether this guy was worried a terrible aunt was hiding behind a shelf or a drug dealer. What else could explain why someone your age was looking around a library so suspiciously? You hoped he wasn't in trouble, or hell, that he wasn’t the trouble.

Fortunately, the closer he got, the better you could read his body language. His skittish teal eyes, him brushing back trimmed curly hair with white highlights in the front, his bulking arm and thigh muscles tensing up, his flushed face...It soon became clear that he wasn't dubious, just nervous. Which wasn't entirely uncommon either. And, you belatedly realised, unnecessarily attractive. To the point that you had to swallow a sudden warmth that bloomed in the pit of your tummy for the sake of professionalism.

Once he was in acceptable talking range, you beamed. "Welcome to Newtown Library, how may I help you?"

The man startled at the sound of your voice and you had to bite your lip to reign in a laugh when his anxious gaze landed on you and widened almost unperceivably. It was only perceivable because you grew up in Newtown, Crime Alley's neighbour area, and made a habit of noticing things like that.

He swallowed and then asked in a low voice. "I...I wanna get a library card?"

"Sure," you smoothly replied and grabbed a sheet of paper you kept nearby. "First, I need ID and proof of address."

"Oh shi— shoot," his gaze snapped back to you; he coughed then dug around for his wallet. As if censoring himself for your sake. "That necessary?" He sounded surprised by the request but didn't protest when you nodded and he gave you a student ID card and a medical card. "Do...Do these work?"

"Yup!" You grinned and handed them back a moment later. Herbert Jason Johnson. What a name. "Now, you just need to sign this form physically or digitally via our website."

"Digital is fine," he muttered, scanning the QR code you had ready and filling it out online for a bit. You took that opportunity to study him. His light warm toned skin, his slightly red cheeks and defined chest. Woah... "I'm done."

You perked up. "Nice. If you just wait here, I'll go get the library card options for you to choose from..."

But before you could move, he did. Leather jacket crinkling as he stared you dead on for the first time since he came in. "It's a'ight...I'll be happy to take whichever you choose for me."

"Really?" He grunted; your smile broadened. "Alright. Then, yeah. I'll choose one for you."

So, you walked further back into the desk area and brought them out. An octopus, some bubbles, a sunset, a cool motorcycle— oh, he might like the last one. It seemed like he might even own one himself.

"Hm," you hummed, giving it to him. "Here, it's got wheels with spikes on it."

Then something unexpected happened. He laughed. It was a strange little thing that only lasted a couple of seconds. His mouth was snarky in a way like it wasn't used to curving up and hadn't done so in a while. But his eyes weren’t. His shiny teal eyes practically glowed with honest, unsullied amusement. This, more than anything, made the warmth in the pit of your tummy grow.

"I can see that. I like it, thanks," he huffed, turning it over in his hand.

You knew you'd be thinking of him all day now. "You're welcome. Feel free to browse the library and borrow anything you want with that card. It should work right away, otherwise, let me know and I can help."

You hoped he would take the offer, but it seemed like meeting him had absorbed all of your luck. He shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll probably head out...bye."

You watched him make an exit with a sense of longing, then called after him. "Herbert, right?"

But the guy just paused in his footsteps, sent you a small, nervous smile and corrected you. "Call me Jason."

"OK!" You replied still smiling and soon the cute, extremely hot guy called Jason was no more. You hoped he wasn't like those one-hit patrons and would visit again when it was your shift.

Well, would you look at that? You did have some luck left.

Just like you had hoped, Jason came back six more times which was more than you expected. Better yet, three of those times were on the days you worked.

According to your nosy colleagues – who were more than happy to gossip about this with you – he usually browsed the library shelves as if at an exhibition of his favourite artist, dressed in clothing best suited for a street racing film. Never picking anything up or taking anything out no matter how many times your co-workers and even the patrons asked him if he needed help.

Jason kept to himself too. Stared at various book spines with a wistful gaze and made a point to avoid your eyes any time he noticed you peering over. Or, at least, that was the impression you had until one day, you caught him glancing over at you and you couldn't help but approach him to try asking yourself if he needed that help.

Jason looked like a deer in headlights when he saw you were making your way over with a wide smile which made the warmth in your tummy reappear.

"Hey!"

"Hey," he slowly replied, shoving whatever he was looking at back on the shelves and shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Are you okay?"

Jason coughed, trying to straighten himself out. "Yeah, yeah...fine."

"Hm," but it didn't seem like it. Should you not have come?

"So...what’s up?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just coming over here to ask you if you needed any help," you put a hand in front before he could deny you, hoping to convince him with a joking tone. "I know you usually just browse, but I mean, this is a library. So, we kind of assume that people are eventually gonna pick something up, not just look at them from the shelves, you know?"

But Jason seemed to take it seriously. "Oh, sorry. Am I doin’ somethin' I'm not supposed to?"

"No, no, you're fine," you quickly backtracked. "I'm just joking, you can browse all you want. But...usually, the people who always browse are either too indecisive to choose a book on their own and would perhaps benefit from some recommendations or—"

“What would ya recommend then?" He cut you off, but you could tell that instead of being impatient, he was asking out of eagerness. An eagerness that couldn't help but find endearing. Man, how could he be so cute and overwhelmingly hot at the same time?

"I…I'd have to know what kind of books you're interested in first."

"...What kinda books d’ya think I'd be into?"

You put a hand on your chin and hummed. "That's a hard question. That's like me asking you how old I look or something. But, OK. I'm always up for a challenge. Let's see..." you used this opportunity to check him out and oh my thighs—! "M-Maybe romance books or crime and mystery, no, action books?" You tried and waited for a moment on bated breath as Jason tilted his head in thought before nodding.

"Yeah...you're right."

You laughed and while he didn't laugh as well, his furrowed brows and small nervous smile were just as heart-warming.

"Are you serious? I got it right?"

"Yeah..."

"But half of those were jokes!"

"Maybe I'm a joke," Jason dryly replied.

"No!" You grinned. "I feel like you've read all the books here. Or, at least, you seem like you're familiar with them. So, maybe you should try something new? Something outside of those genres."

"Hm, well..." He looked down the row of books and sent a hesitant glance your way. "What do you like?"

That was the question, wasn't it? "Well, I guess really like hero and fantasy stories. So, I have lots of fantasy recommendations...is that alright?"

Jason shrugged. "Sure. What d’ya recommend?"

"Well, that, my friend, is gonna take me a while to answer," you joked again, acting all dramatic-like. "You sure you have the patience?"

And that finally got one of his odd chuckles out of him. "Go for it."

So, the pair of you browsed the relevant sections while you talked and talked about the different books you enjoyed. All of which he politely declined. Trying to find a fantasy book with action or romance or crime in it was a daunting task, one you didn’t have much hope for.

But then, just before you gave up hope and Jason lost his patience, you stumbled upon one of your favourites of all time. A book series full of all four subgenres that you thought would be perfect for him.

You pulled it out, beaming with a huge sigh of relief. "This is it. Take this."

"Er..." Jason flipped it around, contemplative, but you wouldn't let him turn this down too. So, you grabbed his hands and ignored how red both he and you suddenly got at the contact for the sake of him reading it.

"Trust me, don't even think. Just take this and read it. I promise you'll love it."

His eyes were slightly wider again as he stared at you, his hands, the book, and you again. Only replying when you let go. "OK...I...I trust you."

And you were happy he did because once he started that series, he couldn't put it down.

Ever since you recommended him one of your favourite books, whenever Jason visited the library, he came straight to you. To tell you what he thought before returning that novel and getting the next one.

You knew this was a temporary thing, most people didn't stay regulars for long, it was normal. So, you would appreciate this as long as you could.

The first book was brighter and energetic and it put him in a similar mood. It made him hyper – well, hyper for him – when he explained how much he enjoyed it and how ingeniously it was written.

"I just— loved the addition of a poem within a novel," Jason ranted, eyes shining with interest a few weeks after you initially checked it out for him. "It was amazing."

"I'm glad," you smiled as you locked eyes.

"...Me too," your tummy fluttered, his building familiarity and confidence around you only served to make you that much more attracted to him. Too bad he would likely stop coming at some point.

The next edition was a bit more mellow and so you had to go find him when he was putting it back two weeks later.

"Hey, you didn't come see me?"

“Oh...yeah, sorry."

Silence.

You watched him with wary eyes as he just stayed kneeling on the floor. You slowly lowered yourself too when he didn't move and only when he met your eyes with a blank gaze did you ask. Smiling as much as you could.

"How did you find it?"

Neither of you breathed until he answered.

"I...I kinda had a bad week and this book didn't help much."

"Oh," shit. "I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have—"

But he vigorously shook his head, bringing the pair of you back up to a stand when he noticed you down on the floor with him. "No. I still really liked it. It just kinda emphasised how fuc— friggin’ terrible my week was."

"Oh," you deflated a bit. That hadn't been your intention. "If you want to talk about it, I'm always here."

"…Really?"

"Yeah, of course. Contrary to what you look like, you're super sweet and I want to help you if I can."

He paused. "What do I look like?"

You had to pause, carefully considering how to put this. "Honestly...you look like someone who wouldn't come here to rant to me about some fantasy book series I recommended. Someone who spends more time drinking and partying than reading. Someone who wouldn't stop himself from swearing in front of me," you timidly touched your hair. "Like I said, you're super sweet and...I like hearing you talk."

Jason said nothing for a moment, poring over you as if trying to determine how truthful that statement was. But once he decided to believe you, you never would've expected that this shy, literary enthusiast hunk would actually tell you what was on his mind. Would even talk about a dangerous job, a complicated relationship with his family and a cooking habit.

Sure, he was very vague about it all but still. You couldn’t believe he was letting you peer into his life more than you had before. Or that you weren't the only one combusting inside when his hand accidentally brushed your waist before he left. But that day was full of surprises that almost made you forget that he would stop coming at some point. Most people did. He was no exception.

The saddest and lowest point in the series was the third book.

In contrast to the first few, Jason's reaction was starkly different from the tone of the book. In fact, he seemed relieved that it took a dive for the worst and read it through within a week this time.

"I really enjoyed the way the author used tragic flaws to tell amazing character arcs ‘n plots in a way that a lot of other stories don't. And it does it all in a cohesive fantasy setting..."

"I'm happy to hear that," you smiled.

He talked more about how the main character's struggles with identity and survival related to him, prompting you to share how they related to you too. Bonding over the book like you did last week, but differently this time. Because you were also sharing. It was mutual.

So mutual that, after you scanned the third book he brought in, Jason stole it from your hands telling you he was happy to put it back and go get the next one this time. You felt compelled to go with him to the right shelves. Intending to take it back from him at the last moment, shelve it and find him the next one in one swoop. It was your job, after all, and you wanted to spend as much time with him as you could even if he was trying to make work easier for you.

But, when the time came, Jason was reluctant to let go of the book. Too deep into his own mind and ranting to separate from it. So, with cheeks as hot as a stove, you replaced the novel with your hand and swapped them out. Handing him the book he needed a beat later.

And if you thought he blushed before...that had nothing on his face now.

Not that you were much better though.

"Are you excited to read the last one then?" You asked after a moment of quiet passed between you, your hands still loosely linked together.

"Y-Yeah," Jason quickly nodded, gaping at you with what could only be described as wonder. "I just don't know how this is gonna end exactly...but I have a sneaking suspicion that I'll like it. I'll tell you."

"Mhm! And just think, after I hear the full review, you won't have to come here and talk to me anymore, will you?"

You bet he would be happy about that. Just because you had gotten closer, didn't mean that he had become any more comfortable in the library. Your colleagues still said that outside of your conversations, he acted just as on edge as he had from the start, so you wouldn’t try to pressure him into coming back after finishing this one obligation of sorts.

Maybe libraries just weren’t for him and that was OK. Because while you'd miss him, you doubted there was anything to say to stop him from never returning. This is the digital age, people stopped visiting libraries for less. Way less.

It was best to be positive about the whole thing.

"Oh," Jason frowned, suddenly disentangling your hands and turning away so you couldn't see his face. "Yeah, you're right," he muttered before despondently leaving you by the shelf, borrowing the book on his own and literally dashing out of the library.

What the...?

No, no, there wasn't a point in pondering that. The last book...you could ask what that was when he returned with the last book. You could still leave this, whatever this was, on a good note once he was done with the last book.

You were relabelling some older editions of iconic titles when you felt a finger poking your back two days later.

"Oh!" You flinched as you finished the one you were on, then jumped once more when you recognised him as the culprit. "Jason! Hey! When did you come in?"

He seemed more anxious than usual as he bit his lip with furrowed brows. He was back far sooner than you expected, had he quit the finale midway? "Just now...since it's raining and everything, I thought I'd pop in and say hey."

It stopped raining an hour ago. "Ohhh kaaay...well, hey. What's up?" And why did he run off last time?

"Well, I just finished reading the last book of the series."

You blinked in surprise. That wasn't what you expected him to say. No, not at all. But it was a great series, you had binged it just as speedily when you first came across it. "Woah. That was quick, it usually takes you at least a week to read one."

Jason tried to shrug, but his shoulders were too rigid for it to come across flippantly. "Yeah, well, I guess I was just so into the story, I lost myself in it…it was real good."

After some light prodding, Jason started telling you his usual review, but it was detached for some reason. He was speaking more about the character he liked the most than how he resonated with the story and plots as he used to.

"I can already guess that most people probably preferred his brother, but I don't know. I just got him more. I wanted to root for ‘im. Especially after his lil redemption arc where he got all close and personal with the protagonist."

Jason kept going and you watched him with the books you had been in the process of reorganising in your hands, too distracted by the fact that this guy who you still didn't really know loved something you did to say anything else.

"I'm really glad that you enjoyed it!" You blurted out when he was done.

"Yeah, me too," he took a deep breath before turning to look at you directly. "That epilogue kinda...reminded me of us in a way, y’know?"

"Oh, yeah?" You began putting the books back, desperately ignoring the fluttering feeling in your stomach at his words. "How?"

"I mean, throughout the book, he kept explicitly and implicitly asking for help. Time and time again the MC he was in love with ended up being the one to help him until the end of the journey when they separated. And it's like what you do for me..."

"Mhm. I guess."

"But, of course…there's one difference. We've not...never…y’know?"

You choked and froze in place. Where was this going?

"But I've been thinking about what you said last time,” your eyes met his shiny teal ones. “Now that I'm done with the series and doing reviews or whatever...Unless you can recommend something else this good, I don't have any other reason to be here right now. Except," Jason studied you for a long moment as your eyebrows rose higher and higher and your face grew warmer. "You. My protagonist."

You didn't know what to say to that, except breathe. "We're in a public space."

That seemed to snap him out of it and he practically curled in on himself. Crossing his bulging arms, moving to face away from you as if browsing the shelves like before. "Y-Yeah, yeah, 'course! Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so f-fuck— friggin’ sleazy. It just came to mind—"

Suddenly, desperate to salvage this, you stopped what you were doing, took a step towards him and pressed a soft peck on his cheek before leaning away. Jason’s neck practically snapped back in your direction as he stared at you with an incredulous look on his face.

You...hadn't meant to do that, but now that you had. "It’s fine, I was just shocked…I wouldn't mind a little roleplay..." You whispered, not intending for it to sound so dirty but uncaring that it did. Was this why he left? Was he really thinking the same thing as you? Gah! You hoped so.

Jason was so cute and hot, you wanted to kiss him again. Properly this time. You wanted to be the reason he returned.

You wanted him.

Jason audibly swallowed and slowly uncrossed his arms. Asking, "You sure?" To clarify things. "Because I mean, like I said...you don' hafta."

You fully intended to reply with words, but something jolted through you again at the sight of his open arms. Prompting you to step forward to peck him on the lips this time. A shiver ran down your spine at the contact.

"No, I don't," you replied.

And that was what shut Jason up. That was what made him lean close to kiss you his way now.

It began as a series of pecks, simple pressings of lips together that made you go warm with delight. His lips were softer than you expected and he was way too gentle. But then things slowly developed into smooches that lasted longer and longer until you were melting in his arms.

Arms? Since when did he put his arms around you? They were secure as they kept you close and you pressed your chests together. As he touched your jaw and you gripped his shoulder. As your wet tongue slipped out and met his without a word, as if in sync. Hesitantly tasting each other in a way that put you out of breath because of the intimacy instead of the speed.

Jason was sweet, tasted sweet and looked sweet when you pulled back, quietly gasping with a string of saliva momentarily tying your tongues together. As if he had been holding himself back until this very moment and was only now letting you know what he thought of you.

It was as staggering as it was relatable.

His voice was unexpectedly fond as he mumbled. "I've wanted to do that for a while, but I didn’t have the balls. I...I wasn’t sure if you were interested."

That made you shake your head in amusement. How had he not noticed? "Jason, I was always interested in you. Why do you think I stop everything I'm doing to talk to you whenever you come in?"

He snorted despite how visibly embarrassed he seemed. "Because you're a good worker?"

"Please," you joked, revelling in the feeling of him tightening his big arms around you. "Even I can be selfish sometimes."

He smiled at you and you smiled back, basking in the unfamiliar but welcome lack of distance between you two. All until somebody somewhere coughed and you sprung apart. Right. You needed to get back to work.

Jason was the first to comment, rubbing the back of his neck as he sent you a weak smile. "Well...I'll let you get back to it."

"OK, but if you want to come back when we’re done that's OK too. We could go for burgers...?" You asked, grin widening at how awkward he was, even now.

"…Fuc— I mean…aw yeah."

You laughed out loud.

Fuck yeah, indeed. Because just like he was glad to know you’d always liked him, you were ecstatic to know that all that time you spent worrying about him never returning left you oblivious to the fact that you became the reason he did.

#tbdnm fic #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd x you #red hood imagine #gender neutral reader #x y/n #enchanthings

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