moonstruckme · 10 hours ago
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vampire!james is such a fun concept!
what about if reader was a newly turned vampire too and James lets her feed on him
like the scene with elena feeding on damon in TVD?
because blood sharing is intimate :P
Hi lovely! I don’t really remember what this was like in TVD because I last watched that show probably 10 years ago and I don’t think I finished it but hopefully this is along the lines of what you were thinking, thank you for requesting <3
cw: blood, feels mature at times but no smut (vampires are just hot idk)
vampire!James x fledgling!reader ♡ 1k words
James hates seeing you like this. He remembers what it feels like—being aware for the first time of every nerve ending in your body, your mind whirring at a thousand miles a minute, everything worse and louder and so much more than it had felt when you were human. 
He’d warned you the transition would be like this, but you’d wanted it anyway. You keep trying to act like you’re alright even now, trembling from head to toe in the corner of the bed, eyes darting towards every sound and movement like your body thinks you’re under attack. The three bags of blood you’d gotten from the butcher lie empty on the floor. Normally James only needs one every few days, but this is one thing he’d forgotten about the transition, he supposes. The hunger is intense. He won’t be able to get you more for at least a few hours.
“Sweetheart,” James says softly. You still flinch as though he’s shouted. “You should try to go to sleep. It’ll help with the cravings.”
“I don’t think I can.” Your lisp is sort of cute. You haven’t been able to retract your fangs yet, have pricked your own lip more than once. “I can hear so many hearts. They’re loud.” 
James nods. He’s learned to tune them out, like the hum of electricity or the rush of wind outside, but he knows what you mean. If he focuses, he can listen to the beating heart of the bird nesting in the tree by your window, the neighbor’s cat, the woman who lives at the end of your street. Sometimes they seem synchronized together, the unceasing, steady beat of life in the world. It gets louder when he’s starving. 
“The butcher won’t be open until morning,” he tells you, though you know already. You nod, wrapping your arms around your legs. “But I can try to help, if you want. You could try feeding from me.” 
It’s an idea James has been toying with since you said you wanted to turn. He doesn’t think you could survive off each other forever—he’s not sure if he still makes new blood, if his body works that way anymore—but he doesn’t have need for his blood the way a human does. Maybe he could sate you for a bit. 
You give him a look of wary surprise, but James knows how you feel well enough to recognize the hope behind it. Any chance of feeding will sound good to you right now. 
“Can we do that?” you ask. 
“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “But I don’t think it’ll hurt to try. Might taste a bit stale, though.” 
It’s a lame joke, and you don’t laugh. Your trembling worsens, your restraint barely holding out against your cravings. Your voice is small. “I don’t know if I can be gentle. I feel…weird.” 
James offers you a smile. “I know, honey. It’s okay. Can I touch you?” 
You nod. James is careful about it, not wanting to overstimulate your sensitive nerves. He takes your hands in his, slowly guiding you onto his lap. 
“You’re alright,” he promises. “Let me help.” 
Your brows crease, and your lip starts bleeding again when you prick it with your fang. James gently thumbs the droplet away. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you whisper, scared. 
“I’ll be fine.” He looks you in the eyes, swiping his thumbs over your cheeks calmingly. “You did it for me, right? That wasn’t so bad. Just…” James palms the back of your head, bringing it to the crook of his neck like an embrace. “Take what you need.” 
James doesn’t have a heartbeat for you to hear, but that doesn’t matter; once you’re close you can’t restrain yourself anymore. You bite into his neck eagerly. 
It feels like you described. Part of James worried that you were stretching the truth, trying to make him feel better, but the places where your mouth connects to his skin are suddenly the center of James’ universe. He can feel his blood rushing to meet you, to sate you, fill you up and be everything you need. Your low moan vibrates against his skin, and James laughs, dizzy and drunk on you. 
One of your hands fists in his hair, pulling his head further to the side. He bears his neck to you readily. He hopes you glut yourself on him, stay here with him, keep your mouth suctioned to his skin until you both die whatever deaths immortals can. 
He feels a bead of wet roll down his chest. You make a soft, thoughtless sound in the back of your throat, leaving his neck to chase it. Your tongue licks a stripe up James’ left pectoral. 
He blinks slowly as you wipe your mouth, breathing hard. It feels like waking up from a dream. You have blood smeared around your mouth and nearly dripping from your chin. You look embarrassed as you catch it with your fingers and lick them clean. 
“Sorry,” you say. 
“It’s okay.” James smiles at you. He still feels slightly doped up, but it’s also sweet to see you like this, pupils still blown from the taste of him and shy about it at the same time. “You were right, that was nice.” 
One side of your mouth tilts up tentatively. “I didn’t hurt you? You were so controlled when you fed from me.” 
“That’s not your fault, honey, you can’t be controlled this early on.” James kisses you, pleased to find your fangs are starting to retract. “It’s not possible. But no, it didn’t hurt.” 
Your smile blooms with relief. “You didn’t taste stale,” you reassure him. “You sort of tasted like yourself, if that makes sense.” 
He nods. You’d tasted like yourself, too, all sticky sweet and addicting. 
You let your breath out in a whoosh, sagging in his hold. “I’m…god, how do you manage to walk home after this? I’m so tired.” 
“It gets easier with time,” James reassures you. He pets the back of your head, turning you both around so his back rests against the headboard of your bed. “You can sleep, though. We’ll clean you up tomorrow.” 
There are no arguments from you. You’re fading fast, head falling naturally back into the curve of his neck. 
“Sorry,” you mumble, “I wasn’t as nice about it as you were with me.” 
“Sure you were, sweetheart. You’re always nice, I don’t think you can help it.” 
“Yeah, well.” You turn your head slightly to mush a kiss over the puncture marks you’ve left him. “Thanks.” 
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thebeast-dennis-etcetera · 17 hours ago
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Interference Part 2
Prompt: You run to your FBI neighbor when you and your boyfriend get into a fight.
Part 1
You shut your laptop with a frustrated sigh and crossed out the last address you had written down on your pad of paper. The last two days you had been searching for a place to rent, only to be turned down due to your bad credit or limited income. You didn’t have the privilege of asking your family for help, most of them had shunned you once you got into your relationship and the few that did still speak with you were in no position to lend you money.
Your phone rang again for the 3rd time in 30 minutes, a blocked number popping up on the screen. You had ignored it the last 2 times for the fear that it was your boyfriend, but he should still be in jail with no chance of making phone calls, right?
Deciding it wouldn’t really hurt to answer it, you slid the call open and instantly regretted it once the familiar devious voice spoke to you.
“Hello bird,” he greeted with fake sincerity, using the pet name he made for you as a jab at your eating habits. The fear shot through you just as hard as the other night, rendering you speechless.
“I’m out baby. I’ll be home soon and we can sit down and talk about everything. Hopefully you were able to get the house cleaned, it was a mess the last time I was there.”
He didn’t get a chance to say anything more before you ended the call. Anxiety and fear began creeping into your body, making you scramble to grab a luggage bag from the closet before shoving some clothes, toiletries, and your laptop in it. Running into the living room, you peeked out of the curtains, hoping to see Aaron’s car in the driveway. No such luck.
So grabbing your keys, you left the house, not even bothering to lock it and threw your luggage into the backseat of your car. You tore out of the driveway and down the street like a bat out hell, unsure exactly how far away your boyfriend was. As reckless as driving 50 in a residential was, you took your chances of being pulled over and put as much distance between you and that house before dialing Aaron’s number at a red light.
“Hotchner,” he answered professionally from the other line.
“Aaron. He got out. I don’t know how, maybe his mom paid his bail. He called me and said he was on his way to me.” Your words were fast and frantic. You would've continued rambling had Aaron not stopped you.
"Y/N. Just take a deep breath for me, alright?"
The light turned green and you did as he instructed, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, it doing very little to calm your frazzled nerves but appreciated it regardless.
"Now do you have anywhere you can go, maybe a friends house or family member? Somewhere you'd be safe?"
"No," you spoke. "I don't have any friends and most of my family disowned me when I got into this stupid relationship. The rest of them live on the West Coast."
There was a pause of silence as you felt him thinking over the phone. Most likely figuring out the easiest way to get rid of you and your problems.
"Alright. I have some down time before my meeting in an hour. Why don't you come by and we can figure out a plan. I'll send you the address, just take the elevator to the 4th floor."
A second later you felt the buzz of your phone from the incoming text message. "Ok. Thank you so much Aaron. And I'm so sorry for taking up your time." Tears threatened to fall but you held them back.
"Don't be sorry, Y/N. I want to help you. Don't worry, we'll get this all sorted out. Just text me when you arrive."
"I will," you replied before you both said goodbye and hung up. You put the address in your navigation and drove mindlessly through traffic, so many thoughts going through your head it made you want to scream.
The address wasn't too far from your own homes, arriving there in less than an hour and heading into the very drab looking building before taking the elevator, texting Aaron that you had arrived on the way up.
You had just made it to the front desk before seeing Aaron headed in your direction, giving the receptionist a small smile. "She's with me Lonnette, thank you."
You waited as Lonnette printed your visitor badge and handed it over with a friendly smile before following Aaron through the floor, passing by glass offices and cubicles. You were quiet, not really in the mood for small talk which you felt he sensed and didn't bother saying anything as he lead you up some stairs to an office that you presumed was his by the gold name plaque on his desk.
"Have a seat, please," he offered politely, closing the door and walking over to his side of the desk. "Would you like something to drink? Water? Coffee?"
You shook your head. "No thank you. I appreciate the offer though."
He unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down, moving some files to the side. "So I'm genuinely surprised to hear that he's out of jail. You said you think his mother bailed him out?"
"Yeah. I don't think she knows anything about what happened but whenever he asks her for money, she just sends it to him. I think she feels guilty for never being in his life so giving him money when he needs it helps her feel better about it." You rung your hands together, anxious about the whole situation as well as being there, talking with a man that was pretty much a complete stranger, bugging him for help.
"And he called you afterwards, telling you that he was on his way? Did he seem upset?" His tone was curious as if trying to get every piece of puzzle to fit perfectly in order to build an accurate idea of who your boyfriend was. It made sense considering his profession.
"I don't know. He's really good at hiding his anger until he snaps. He was talking like nothing had happened and we were just going to go back to normal." Your head whipped towards the open window blinds where someone was just walking by, Aaron noticing your jumpy behavior immediately.
"You're safe here. No one knows anything about what happened except you and I," he reassured you, making you relax just a little. "I don't think he'll be out of jail for long though, at least until he sees the judge for arraignment. I will personally see to that."
His words brought you a bit of placidity and hope as you still wondered why he would go through such lengths to help you out.
"I do have a small flat not far from here that I use occasionally for late nights at the office when I don't want to drive all the way home. You can stay there for now, until you find a place of your own if you'd like. Completely up to you, I don't want you to feel pressured."
Your eyes looked up from the floor to meet his, surprised by his offer.
"I- uh. I couldn't impose on you like that-
"You wouldn't be. I barely use it anymore, I prefer to be at my home with my son whenever I can."
Son? He has a son. Of course he does. He probably also has a wife or at least a girlfriend since you didn't see a ring on his finger. The thought of him with a son didn't bother you, in fact it only gave you more of a reason to trust him.
"If you're sure you don't mind," you said, trying not to sound too excited, relieved that you wouldn't have to go back to your boyfriends house. "Please let me pay some sort of rent or something though. It's the least I can do."
He shook his head no, his expression soft and nonchalant. "Don't worry about it. You're gonna need the money for your new place. Just promise me that you won't contact him or go back to that house unless you have some sort of escort, preferably by law enforcement."
You could be my escort.
You nodded in agreement, ignoring your thoughts.
“Alright then. I can send you the address and give you the keys now. I'm not sure if the fridge is stocked but feel free to add or throw anything away. There is a washer and dryer there so you can wash the sheets and anything else you need." He pulled his keys from his desk drawer and removed a ring with a single key on it, holding it out for you.
You took it gratefully and stood with him as he buttoned his suit back up and checked his watch.
"Could I at least make you dinner or something?" you blurted, not sure where such confidence came from. "I mean, I just want to do something for you in return for your incredible generosity." You couldn't stop the blush from burning your cheeks, your words successfully embarrassing yourself.
A small smile played at the corner of his mouth, showing off just the slightest sight of dimples. "I'll be with my son tonight but maybe we could grab a coffee sometime tomorrow."
You smiled back, more than satisfied with his offer and followed him out of his office, feeling a few stares from people but avoided eye contact. Aaron walked you back to the receptionist and even had her add you as a contact so visiting would be an easier feat.
"Thank you again Aaron," you spoke, the anxiety you had been feeling for the last few hours, finally beginning to dissipate. He answered with a friendly nod and you entered the elevators. Once the doors closed and you were completely alone, you took in a deep breath. Maybe everything was going to be ok like he said.
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ellamuffin97 · 1 day ago
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You are mine 💚
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Pairing : Loki x Fem!Reader
Rating:E
Warnings : spice , sexy flashbacks, jealousy, possessive behaviour, alcohol, cursing
💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚
You sat at the bar and swirled around the watery remains of your drink. You stared at the melting ice at the bottom of your glass, totally wrapped up in your thoughts.
His voice got so damn rough and low when he was inside you. It was coarse, like shrapnel—it bit into your skin and stayed there, embedded and scarred over, whether you liked it or not.
“Fuck, just like that, kærasta . You feel so good.”
Loki’s hands gripped your ass, guiding your movements as you rode him, your palms resting heavy on his pecs.
“Mmmm, are you going to cum for me? That’s it, make yourself cum on my cock.”
You collapsed forward, forearms landing on either side of his head, hands tangled in his hair, lips pressed to his corded neck. He bent his knees to brace for leverage and started fucking up into you, holding you tight against him as you fell apart.
“Shit, yes, cum for me—I can feel it.”
The loud scrape of a barstool ripped you back to the present moment, and you looked around quickly, hoping your face hadn’t betrayed your filthy thoughts. You’d come here to not think about him.
Needless to say, it wasn’t working.
You were starting to forget why you’d told Loki so many months ago that your relationship was purely casual and would never be anything more. Only fucking him after you had missions together meant seeing him sporadically at best—a few days at a time, maybe a blissful week if you were lucky and the mission needed more time or if the target that you’d follow was far away. Then you’d go your separate ways, not seeing him for weeks or sometimes months, until Stark needs him and Thor again so they have to come back from Asgard .
The last mission you’d had together was three weeks ago. You didn’t like to admit it (even to yourself), but you’d asked him for help when you really didn’t need it. You could have easily catch the target alone… but the job required so much damn time in another country that you couldn’t fathom wasting all that valuable time without him. You weren’t going to not take advantage of six long days London with nothing to do but fuck. You had no regrets about the white lie.
And to your relief, neither Loki didn’t say anything when the target was suspiciously simple to catch.
But if you were at the point of lying about anything just to see him, why did you have this stupid rule in the first place? He had made it clear on several occasions that he wanted your partnership to be more than just about work.
“Stay with me. I want you here.”
No, no. You knew why you drew that line in the sand. You kept him at arm’s length because it was safe. This arrangement was simple. Straightforward. Smart. No strings or complications. After all, his invitation to stay with him wasn’t a promise—it didn’t ensure loyalty or preclude loss. Nothing did. Sooner or later, he’d get tired of you, or you’d get tired of him. Someone would end up too attached and heartbroken.
You couldn’t lose someone who wasn’t yours.
Living by that truth made things easy. Right? Yes. Yes, it did.
…Then why didn’t it feel easy anymore? Why did it hurt so fucking much every time he left Midgard straight after every single mission ?
That wasn’t a question you were ready to unpack at the moment. You signalled to the bartender for another drink, just as a man slid onto the stool next to you. You turned to look at him, and the corners of your mouth turned up in a smile.
Alright, he’d be a sexy enough distraction. If you couldn’t excise the shards of Loki that had worked their way under your skin, the least you could do was find a fun way to ignore them.
Authors pov :
She was here. Of course, she was here.
Seeing her was the last thing he needed. He was here to distract himself, to buy a bottle of something strong and escape to the solitude he finds his peace in . And once he was there, he would not think about her and her soft lips. No, he wasn’t going to think about how beautiful she looked splayed out in his bed , sweaty and wild and his.
*****
“Are you going to join me in here or are you just going to stand there and look at me?” she teased.
She sat up with a wicked smile on her lips and crawled to the end of the bed . She knelt at the edge, reaching out to grasp his shirt and tug him forward. He happily complied, wrapping his arms around her waist.
“Speaking of nice views,” she purred. “I love when you wear those leather trousers .”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah… now let’s get them off.”
She bowed her head and pressed her lips to the side of his neck, and he tipped his head to the side to give her better access, a quiet moan escaping through his lips. Before he even knew what was happening, she had curled her fingers around the black elastic of his boxers, extended them toward her, and let them snap back . He grunted in surprise, but his playful words of protest died on his tongue when she set her teeth against his skin. She slid her hand in his trousers , rubbing and playing with his dick while her free palm wandered up over the taut muscles of his biceps.
*****
“Excuse me.” The bite of an irritated voice cut through his moment of reminiscence, loud enough to jolt him out of one of his favorite memories.
Loki looked around as a woman pushed past him. He stepped out of the way and muttered an apology. He hadn’t realized he was frozen in the doorway, completely blocking the exit.
He looked back over at the bar. His heart dropped.
No, she wasn’t his. She was definitely not his.
The proof was right in front of his fucking face. There she was, chatting up some handsome man who’d just sat down beside her, her hand playfully swatting his forearm—not that he even needed proof to know she wasn’t his. From the very beginning, she was crystal clear that all he’d ever be to her was an occasional mission partner and casual fuck. And he accepted her boundaries because as much as it hurt to watch her locking inside her room after every job, he’d rather give up his room in the tower and go back with his brother in Asgard .
He would rather have a piece of her than nothing at all .
Loki knew he should go. The smart thing to do would be to turn around right now and head back to Asgard. Staying and watching this unfold would just add more weight to the heavy feeling in his chest—the feeling that settled there months ago, after the first time you’d had sex and she left the next morning, the feeling that only relented when she was by his side once again.
But… if he stayed, he would get to see her for a little while. And… who knows? Maybe she’d see him too, come over, and stop talking to that asshole?
Could that man be considered an asshole for doing nothing wrong? The worst crime he had committed was choosing the most beautiful woman to talk to.
Yes, Loki decided. He was an asshole.
He moved further into the pub , making a beeline for the bar. He stopped at the far end, hand balled into a fist on the wooden counter. He didn’t even notice when the bartender came up and asked him if he wanted anything.
He was too preoccupied watching her. She was largely faced away from him, her body angled toward the idiot she was shamelessly flirting with. For a moment, though, she turned slightly, and the look on her face broke something inside him .It was a look—open and wanting, soft around the edges—that he thought she reserved only for him.
He also watched her smile at him, and an ugly feeling rippled through him—anger, craving, possession. It unfurled through his body like tendrils of smoke, filling up every inch of him until he felt like he was going to choke.
She turned just far enough to meet his gaze, and his feet were moving before he knew what he was going to do.
Enough.
***
Apparently, this stranger was not a good enough distraction. You were talking with him, doing some of your best flirting—despite how eye-wateringly strong his cologne was—and all you could think about was Loki. The man prattled on, not noticing that you weren’t listening to him at all as you slipped right back to a fonder memory.
You were tucked against Loki’s chest in the dark haven of his room, and he was nuzzling his jaw against the side of your neck. He breathed you in.
“You smell good.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Like flowers… and vanilla and a little bit like smoke.”
You smiled against him and leaned up to press your nose to his neck, inhaling.
“You smell good too. Like whisky and something warm… I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Sweat,” he offered.
“No,” you laughed, “Like cinnamon or pine trees… and maybe a light hint of sweat.”
Loki growled and flipped you on your back, bracing himself over you. “Told you,” he teased, dipping down to kiss a line along your collarbone.
“I still like it,” you whispered.
When you realized you were smiling in a slightly dazed, lovesick way, you glanced away from the man in front of you, turning your head to hide your expression. You didn’t want him to think you were looking at him that way.
And when you turned, you caught a familiar gleam of blue eyes in your periphery. As if you’d summoned him straight out of your daydream, Loki was standing at the far end of the bar, his eyes fixed on your face. You smiled at him, and the corners of your mouth turned up even more when he started to make his way around the bar, heading in your direction.
Yes.
You watched him as he walked over, wondering if he’d be open to heading straight to the tower .
And when he reached you… he didn’t so much as pause—you couldn’t detect even the smallest hitch in his step. He walked right on by, tossing a curt nod of acknowledgement in your direction. You didn’t even have the chance to reciprocate his nod before he’d passed.
You were too shocked to even be offended; you were just… crushed.
No, not crushed. Just surprised.
Your gaze followed his back as he wove through the tables. You expected him to find an empty one, to seek the solitude that he so often preferred over the company of most, but instead, he stopped in front of a round booth in the back corner where a beautiful woman was sitting alone. You watched in shock as he said something inaudible to her, and she beamed up at him, sliding over on the bench so he could sit beside her.
What the fuck.
“You okay?”
You snapped your attention back to the man in front of you. He’d finally noticed that you weren’t paying him the slightest bit of attention anymore.
“Uh, yeah sorry… I, uh, have to go.”
“Oh, okay.” The disappointment in his voice was palpable.
He’d recover.
“Have a good night,” you said, absentmindedly patting his arm as you got to your feet.
For a few stunned moments, you stood there by the bar and watched Loki blatantly flirt with this random woman. You couldn’t hear what he was saying from there, but it was clearly… effective. Before they’d exchanged more than a few sentences, she had a hand on his fucking knee.
Your brain stalled.
Normally , Loki terrified everyone he came into contact with. And you didn’t blame them—he wanted to take over the whole planet and caused disaster . You’d seen bigger men than himself flinch when he scratched his arm… and yet, this woman was completely comfortable with him right off the bat, positively swooning.
What the fuck was he saying to her?
He braced an arm on the back of the booth, around her shoulders, and she fluttered her lashes up at him. You could tell from the way his head was tilted towards her that she had his complete, undivided attention. You knew that look well.
Jealousy blazed hot and urgent inside you.
He was putting on a show for you, baiting you. He had to be. He was usually awkward and monosyllabic around strangers. You prided yourself on how talkative and warm he had become around you—only with you. Or at least, you thought he was only like that with you.
The woman slid her hand up a few inches on his thigh . That got your feet moving.
You stalked over to where he was sitting, faced away from you, his body fully angled toward the woman. To your absolute horror, as you moved closer, you started to catch their conversation.
“—you look so strong” the woman giggled, reaching out to grip his bicep.
Loki just hummed his agreement and fucking flexed his arm under her fingers.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
She oooo-ed at the show of muscle, and your fists clenched almost as tightly as your jaw.
He leaned toward her even more, his huge frame dwarfing her. “Can I get you a drink, sweetheart?”
SWEETHEART.
Your vision flashed crimson, the edges burned black.
Before she could answer, you slapped a palm down on their table to make your presence known. The woman looked up at you with wide, confused eyes, immediately retracting her hand from Loki’s thigh. Good.
He turned his head slowly, his eyes trained on you over his shoulder.
“Yes?” he asked, his voice calm and even.
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” you gritted out.
He didn’t move. “What do you need?”
You let out an exasperated sigh. “To talk to you.”
“Well, we were about to—” the woman started to protest then caught the threatening look on your face and recoiled, scooting backward on the bench.
Something primal in your chest purred in satisfaction every time she drew away from Loki in response to your presence. You wanted to chase that feeling.
Before you could stop yourself, you moved in even more. You stood right behind where he sat on the edge of the bench, and leaned over him, one of your hands finding a home on his knee, the other draped possessively around his shoulders.
His eyes were still turned toward you, but he didn’t move. You fixed the woman with a searing gaze.
She scrunched her eyebrows, her eyes flicking between where your hands were resting on Loki’s body and up to his unmoving face, which was glued to your own face. She no longer had his attention. It was all on you.
As it should be.
“Would you give us a minute?” you asked, your lips pursed tightly in a fake smile.
The woman let out an awkward, disbelieving laugh—which was fair, you were kicking her out of her own table after all—and shuffled around the booth, getting to her feet. “Yeah, okay, I guess I’ll let you two talk.”
“Thanks so much.”
When she was gone, Loki slid along the bench, making room for you to sit. When he turned toward you, your face was set in anger again, hand still clutching his knee.
He reclined against the seat, calm as can be. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”
You scoffed at him. “Uh, what the fuck was that?”
He cocked his head the tiniest bit. “What was what?”
“That little performance? That flirting? What the fuck was that?”
“It was flirting,” he deadpanned. “Well spotted.”
Your jaw fell open, and you sputtered for a moment. “You-you were just doing it to get under my skin—it was so obvious. You’re not acting like yourself at all.”
He chuckled. “If I was doing it to get under your skin, I’d say it’s working.”
You let go of his knee to cross your arms over your chest defensively. “I mean—yeah, it was pretty painful to watch you throw yourself at her like that… though that tactic seemed to work on her,” you conceded, looking away from him for a moment.
Suddenly Loki thawed, dropping his nonchalant facade and leaning toward you to rest a hand on your thigh.
“You can just say you were jealous.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, ignoring the way his touch lit up all the nerves in your body.
He shrugged and continued:”You know I’d rather flirt with you, but we’re not on a mission together right now, so…”
“Yeah, well, you know what? I’m starting to rethink my policy,” you huffed.
He squeezed your thigh. “Good.”
You rolled your eyes at his smug reply. “You could have just told me that you wanted more, you know.”
“I have told you that. Many times.”
Suddenly, you felt silly. The anger that had flared so hot and bright faded, leaving you feeling exposed. You dropped your arms and sighed. He was right. This whole situation had been orchestrated by… you.
“Yeah, okay, you have.”
He crowded your space suddenly, draping his arm around your shoulder and dipping his lips down to your ear.
“And I’ll tell you again if it helps,” he growled, his voice dipping an octave
“I want you to be mine and only mine … all the time , forever kærasta”
His words sent a shiver down your spine.
He drew back, settling into a relaxed position.
“now , what is it exactly what you wanted from me? Voice it out babe”
You knew exactly what you wanted. You’d known from the beginning. That possessive feeling in your chest stirred again.
You rested your hand on his knee again and looked up in his eyes. “I want that too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You smiled up at him.
Loki stiffened, his back straightening, as your hand wandered up his thigh, settling brazenly between his legs. He was still as a statue, his breath suddenly shallow as he hardened under your touch.
“Mine,” you breathed, squeezing him lightly.
“You and that delicious dick of yours “
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sulumuns-dootah · 12 hours ago
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31. 10. Piercings - Beelzebub + Bael
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    ༺☆༻
⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽Helltober '24☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
A/N: We did it freaks! :D It's the last day of October and what a ride it was! ^^ Thanks for all the support on this event! ♥ I had a lot of fun writing it and coming up with the prompts, so I hope you enjoyed it too!^^
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“Y/N, are you comfortable? If you want, you can move a bit.”
“Aw, no... They're being so good right now and it would be a shame if this little buddy came out crooked.” Beelzebub chuckles in response to Bael's soothing words, trying to make you feel more at ease as the king of gluttony carefully marks out the spots on your nipple that he'll soon pierce.
“Easy for you to say, asshole... But I'm the one who's about to lose it with how tightly they're squeezing me.” the fake king growls and smooths his hands down your hips as they sit so prettily on his cock like it's the throne of Abyssos.
When Beel appeared in his country all of a sudden on one fall evening, all Bael had for him was a giant pile of paperwork and a very long list of complaints. Instead of humoring him for at least a few minutes, however, the lord of flies strutted right by him without sparing a glance and deeper into the castle to find you, of all the demons.
“Y/N~! I have a surprise for youu~ huhu!” he sings as he follows the sweet smell of your sweat and perfume.
So that's how you find yourself, currently cockwarming Bael as the king himself officially turns you into a rightful citizen of his country. Out of the many choices you'd been able to pick from, you've chosen a nipple piercing since it's a fun secret to have, but it's also easy to hide from all the other, jealous kings if need be.
“Hmm... Here comes the flysting, you better prepare!” he now chuckles as he finally reaches for the piercing needle and lines it up with the first marked out dot.
“You mean a beesting, shi-mmh!” Bael is about to throw another still-angry remark, but is cut off due to your walls clenching onto him for dear life at the small bit of pain as the sharp needle slides through your flesh.
You've never seen Beel act so gently before as right now that he's carefully sliding your new metal jewellery through the new opening. It only hurts a bit now, but you're already prepared for any pain that will come with healing.
A small trickle of blood travels over your chest down, but the king is quick to lick up the trail and planting multiple playful bites far enough from your nipple to not irritate it any further until it's fully healed. You can't help, but feel your walls flutter at every bite and in turn making the fake king grunt in impatience.
“Huhu, you can move now~! Just be careful to not bounce too hard.” Beel teases with a wink and falls to his knees, fully revelling in the smell of your arousal.
“Hah, fuck, about time now..!” Bael scoffs and immediately starts to pick up a rather rushed pace as much as he's able to in the position you're in. The almost sudden change of state from sitting to being knocked upwards by the sheer force of his thrusts makes every sound escape from your lips.
You're so focused on the noble destroying your hole, that you don't even notice the king moving to fully dive between your legs to lick and suck like a starved man. Once you realise what's going on, you let out the loudest moan, you're sure everyone in the palace knows by now.
All the stimulation blurs your vision and your hands seek anything to ground you so you don't loose your mind, although there are worst ways to achieve that for sure. Going to the source of all the intense pressure, your fingers brush against something slippery and hard. Beelzebub's horn.
To return and also feel more connected to reality, your hand wraps around the slick spike and allows the power of Bael's thrusts to guide your hands movement. Beel thanks you for the action with continuous string of moans, vibrating against you, to match your own. And if you were to look down, you'd see his gorgeous green and golden eyes rolling back.
The only seemingly quiet one in the room is Bael, but that's only because your and the king's moans together cover the sound of the fake king's low growls and grunts.
The whole moment is so heated, with the two demons not giving you much free space between them and all the energy put into your actions, that you body can only deal with it by sweating. The smell of it not going amiss by the two Abyssos kings, helping to bring their release closer and closer.
You're not that far off either. At some point Bael leant backwards slightly, bringing you with him, which only causes him to hit deeper inside you and allowing the starved king better access to wetly slurp at your heated flesh.
Beelzebub can sense your release and can't help but chuckle, sending more vibrations to your sensitive parts. The sole action finally allowing you to reach the most intensive orgasm you've ever felt. In the bliss state your body convulses, making your hand and walls tighten around the two best friends.
Soon enough you can feel the king below you coat your hand with his horn cum and his advisor your walls with his dick cum.
As you're all coming down from your highs and catching your breaths, Bael sharply points at his king, not even having pulled out yet, “Don't think you're off the hook... There's still a mountain of papers you've gotta sign!”
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Shhh... Don't worry, I didn't forget about Amodeus and the prompt Shower(as chosen by the vote)! Asmo's will come out a bit later today ^^
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falafelluva · 3 days ago
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; 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 - 𝐤. 𝐲𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐳 ✮
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summary: long distance can be challenging, especially when a busy schedule is involved
warnings: idk, a sassy man, arguing??!:!:!
author’s note: my throat hurts so bad? why am I catching a cold rn. This is short bc pt 2 is still in the making, my bad🙏🔥 #thisisnotproofread
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Kenan had been away for nearly six weeks, training at a football camp in Germany. The distance was harder than you’d anticipated, the loneliness pressing down on you more each day.
Late night calls were supposed to be your way of staying close, but they grew more and more tense as the days dragged on.
It was a Friday evening, and you had been waiting hours for Kenan’s call, watching the minutes tick by.
When your phone finally lit up with his name, you felt a rush of relief and excitement— until you picked up and heard the exhaustion in his voice.
“Hey,” he mumbled, barely loud enough to hear.
“Hii, I’ve missed you so much,” you replied, trying to keep your voice light, hoping to lift his spirits.
“Yeah… missed you too,” he said, his tone flat. It stung, and you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed.
“You sound exhausted. Are you okay?” you asked gently.
He sighed. “It’s just… a lot. Training is intense. I’m fine, though.”
Your heart sank a little, but you pressed on. “I get that. I just… I thought maybe we could talk for a bit. We haven’t really connected lately.”
“What are you talking about?” he replied sharply, a defensive edge creeping into his tone. “I told you, I’ve been busy. I can’t just drop everything every time you feel like yapping.”
His words stung, and you swallowed back the hurt. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just miss you, Kenan. It’s hard to feel close when you hardly have time to talk. I’m not trying to be an inconvenience”
He scoffed, a bitter tone creeping in. “Well, maybe you are. I’m here doing something important, and I don’t need you stressing me out even more.”
You felt your heart clench, his words hitting deeper than you’d expected. “So that’s how you feel? I’m just trying to keep us connected. But it feels like I’m the only one putting in any effort.”
“Maybe you should stop expecting so much from me,” he shot back. “You knew I’d be busy. It’s not my job to entertain you.”
The anger in his voice felt like a slap, and you took a shaky breath, feeling the frustration and hurt building up.
“Kenan, that’s really unfair. I just want to feel like I matter to you, even when things are busy.”
He let out a frustrated sigh on the other end of the line, the exhaustion heavy in his voice. “I told you, I just don’t have time for this right now. I don’t need another person making demands of me.”
A sharp pang of hurt shot through you, and your voice cracked as you tried to respond.
“I’m not making demands. I just… I want to be there for you, and I don’t know how to do that when you keep shutting me out.”
Silence hung between you both, thick and tense. You could hear him breathing, feel the weight of his hesitation, but no apology came.
Instead, he muttered, “You know what? Maybe this was a mistake. You’re just making everything harder.”
The words hit you like a punch, knocking the breath from your lungs. Before you could respond, the line went dead—The silence felt suffocating as you stared at your phone, the call screen fading out.
With shaky hands, you set your phone down, heart pounding as his last words replayed over and over.
Did he really mean it? Did he really think this was all a mistake?
As the reality of his words settled in, a hollow ache began to grow inside you. The uncertainty gnawed at you, leaving you hanging in the silence, wondering if this was the end—or just another obstacle.
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claitea · 2 years ago
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thinking about anthea and concordia and how they knew n's time growing up in the castle was awful but they probably couldn't do much about it because they were also under ghetsis's "care"
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dawnwriterimagines · 3 months ago
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The Verdict Due
SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x FEM!READER
Traitors Among Us (Part 1)
Innocents Among You (Part 2)
The Guilty Plea (Part 3)
Clear Skies (Part 5)
Summary: You head to Laswell to talk on the rest of your now ruined military career. Of course, you're forced to confront your team as it happens, the last people on earth you'd like to see.
If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?
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Simon's steps are slow, lacking energy or purpose. Releasing the buckles strapping his vest down to him, he finally arrives to his door, lifting the camo from himself.
His forehead pressing into the wooden door, he finds it harder and harder to open everyday, seeing reminders of you every moment of everyday, when he closes his eyes, when he lays down in bed. Hell when he opens the door. He hated this room now.
Outside of the place that you both had made your home away from war, from battle, from the base, this was where the two of you had once spent most of your time.
He raised his head off the door, before bringing it back down on it, then doing it again, this time hard enough to hurt. "Fuck," he cursed, cursing himself, his stupid decisions, the times he'd never get back, the mistakes he'll never be able to erase. Huffing out bitterly, squeezing his eyes shut, he's still for a moment, before banging his fist against the wall. "Fuck!" There's a crackle along the wall, a clatter of dust and dried paint hitting his feet.
A shuddered breath leaves him, swallowing down his grief, his anger at himself. But, he can't help it. He's ruined everything.
Simon's head stays there against the doorway, he doesn't want to go in.
His head turns a bit, seeing a figure down the hallway, straightening up, dark eyes squinting. "Johnny?"
Quiet and Still. The Scotsman's mouth is set in a hard line, he runs a hand down his face, smearing the mess he'd made of himself. "I..." he breathes deeply. "I saw her today."
"You what?" Simon perks up, eyes wide. He looks past his comrade, seeing the open doorway of your room, "She's here," he speaks, voice alight and hopeful. Making his way past Johnny, "She's here?" he asks this time, bracing himself at her doorway.
But, the room is a mess and void of you. He'd nearly forgotten how the soldiers had left it, the day it happened he could watch it, it would've been too finalizing of what he thought was your betrayal. Today was meant to be the day they'd clean it all up, due to plaguing themselves with missions and ops that required long weeks, long hours. No one wanted to think about what they'd done.
But, now they'd only made another mistake in waiting too long. And now you had to be greeted by this mess.
"I didn't know it was--" Johnny couldn't turn back to the room, back to Simon, as he spoke. "I didn't know we did so much to her. I thought--how long--how could I--" he shakily began. "--how could you?" Simon's eyes flicker to his friend, dark circles and sunken cheeks seem to worsen. "She was so...she couldn't even look at me, Si. Like I'd make her sick, like I'd--hurt her again...I've never--" his fingers claw at his chest, hoping to rip away the ache in his heart, eyes haunted to tears and staring into the dark of his memory as he thought back. "I'd never--" he can't finish.
"She was here?" Simon asked again.
Johnny's clouded eyes look to Simon, opening his mouth before opting for nodding. Clearing his throat, finally seeming to get a handle on himself, "Just left."
"She what?" Simon bolts out towards the stairs, pushing through the doorway and jumping down the first flight to rush through the rest.
As he gets to the lobby floor, he shoves through the door, revealing the hallway to him, running down the long stretch before ramming into the side wall to catch himself at the corner. He continues down the way, running as fast as he's able, before bursting through the side doors of the front lobby.
He sees you immediately, beyond the glass doorways.
"(Y/n)..."
He's running before he can think to get his legs moving.
---
Leaving the dormitories, finally leaving behind the spare hospital wear that you had swapped for your own clothes, you waved down the first vehicle you'd seen.
The driver letting you into the truck, the two of you unaware as he begins to drive off, Simon shoving his way through the residential doors and coming to a stop in the middle of the street as you drive away.
You, having hopped a ride with one of the soldiers making his rounds, the Jeep shakes with the changing terrain, providing more conversation than the trooper that was much too quiet. Shifting his shoulders, adjusting his fingers around the leather, glancing one too many times through the mirror.
It was getting weird. But, you were a familiar face on the base, unfortunately now, it used to be because you were good at your job, the best sniper they had on the force. But now, it was because you were the first proclaimed traitor of the force in decades and the first to be wrong about.
So, the new attention is nothing to be pleased about.
"Find something interesting to look at, soldier?"
Back straightening, body stiffening and eyes facing the road, the trooper swallows thickly at having been caught eyeing you. "No, ma'am!"
"Then I suggest you keep your eyes on the road."
"Yes, ma'am!" clearing his throat. "Sorry, ma'am, I don't mean to stare."
Arms crossed, head turned to watch the smaller buildings go by, your jaw clenched. "It's fine..." you breathe, before relaxing a bit more as the drive goes farther and farther away from the residential areas. Eyes flickering over to the still tense trooper, you mutter. "Ease."
His shoulders drop, head turning, flustered. "Sorry, ma'am."
It was always strange to be called 'Ma'am' by fellow soldiers, usually you were only a year or so apart, others you had been younger by ten years or older by five. But, this trooper was new to the force, young, clearly still jumpy, you had been the same after your first missions on the Task Force.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," the trooper then speaks, shakily.
"You don't have to keep--"
"About what happened to you," he continued. "I'm not sure if you heard that yet, but it's--that sounds--I can't imagine. I'm sorry that happened to you."
For a moment too long you're quiet, holding your breath, staring at the scenery as it whistled on past, the wind whipping through your hair. Your nails tearing into your skin as you rake them over your scars, smearing the line of blood left after ripping out your IV line, abandoning it as you found a ride.
"Get any cool scars out of it, at least?" he jokes, lightheartedly.
Your eyes snap his way, his eyes widening before he looks back to the road, back to stiff.
You open your mouth to speak, but you can't. You're just angry, too angry to find the words. But, you don't want to take it out on him, he was just attempting to alleviate whatever burden he imagined to be on your shoulders. But, all it was was a reminder, this was all anyone could think of anymore, when it came to you, this ordeal.
The apologies, the reminders, the quiet looks, the whispers, the fucking gnawing pain still splintered through your spine, you were tired of it.
The car pulls up to the largest administrative building on the base camp, hopefully you were right and this was where Laswell was posted up.
Quickly pulling the car handle as the trooper steps out of the vehicle to assist you, you hurriedly speak as he reaches to touch you. "I've got it," you hiss out, harsher then you meant. Stepping down and off the platform, onto the sidewalk, you forget you don't have your IV pole to at least stabilize you. So, when you stumble, he grabs your arm, his other resting on your shoulder.
"Woah!" his grip lacks gentleness, though not bruising, it's enough to set you off.
Your arm goes back and over his arm, shrugging him off, roughly. "I said I got it!" Your palm pushing into his shoulder and sending him back and off of you, he shifts back and nearly off his feet, catching himself.
"Alright, jeez!"
You're stumbling back into the light pole luckily a few steps behind you, leaning yourself against the cemented metal, you balance yourself. Shaking off the buzz in your ears and rubbing away the tension built along your skin, taking a few shuttered breaths, turned away from the soldier.
The trooper takes a few steps away from you, expression lifted to frustration and annoyance, rolling his eyes, brows furrowed and back pedaling to the Jeep. "Fucking crazy," he mutters to himself, adjusting his gear and stepping up back to the vehicle.
But, he doesn't make it very far until you're on him.
"What the fu--!"
Taking the opening of his kevlar and yanking him out of the vehicle, unable to catch himself fast enough to get to his feet. You hold a steel grip on the collar of his uniform, literally holding him up by his straps, pulling his entire bodyweight off the ground, leaning down so you're face to face with him. "Say it again," you snapped, eyes dark and boring into his skull. "I wanna have a good excuse for what I'm about to do to you."
He was taller, probably stronger, but looking up at you, he could see the years of mayhem and chaos that's burned itself into your irises, made you the lieutenant he'd tripped up on properly respecting. "I didn't--I didn't say anything! I'm sorry, ma'am, it won't--it won't happen again!"
Nostrils flared, eyes flickering between his wide, fearful ones, your hands loosen around his gear. He falls forwards, landing on his forearms with a groan, releasing a relieved breath.
He looks up, watching as you turn and make your trek into the building. You had seemed so fragile before, with a limp in your walk, scars head to toe and those braces along your legs, he assumed you had no fight in you. He couldn't have imagined, five minutes, he'd be wrong.
---
"Laswell."
The Station Chief turns, manila folder files in hand, brows raised at the intrusion before her eyes widen at the sight of your tired figure.
"Gray..."
You don't wait to be invited inside, instead pulling up a chair as you let the door close behind you. Not fully out of a lack of respect but your legs were killing you and surely if you wait a second longer you'll literally tear a muscle. "You free?"
"Never. But, I can make time," she answers. "Is something wrong?"
You bite down on your tongue. What isn't wrong.
"I put in a request for council in resignation, ma'am. I'm just here to know if it went through."
"I did...receive your request," The woman is still quite surprised to see you, a bit off put at your presence, hearing about your scars was one thing, seeing them was another. "Of course. Though, I expected you to wait for my call before deciding to come to me."
"I'm sure," you feigned a slight chuckle that faded as soon as it started. You say nothing else but stare.
Laswell sighs, tossing down the folder she'd been holding. "Look, Lieutenant Gray--"
"Just (L/N)," you gritted out. "Please." You couldn't stand your codename at the moment, you didn't want to carry a single thing this team had given you.
"Lieutenant..." Laswell pulled up a chair on the opposite side of the long table, facing you, "You've accomplished much on the force, saved lives, eliminated threats that had the potential to level the united nations, your honors and distinctions. At the very least, here, your guidance is a treasure..."
"I'd like my resignation to be approved, Chief--"
Laswell continues. "I need you to careful think about what you're doing here, Gray--(L/n). I don't want you to be motivated by what's happened to you, you still have a place on the force, it doesn't have to be beside your team. Don't waste your talents in the field because of this experience."
"Experience," You scoffed at the word, nose cringing up in disgust at the downplay. "I didn't go on a rollercoaster at Disney World, god--I was tortured by my team for weeks while my fiancé threatened to kill me afterwards..." you were about to lose your mind. "What makes any of you think I'd want to stay here? Why can't any of you just respect my decision to leave? I'm resigning."
Laswell settles back into her chair, lips pressing together, she makes a hum of a sound. "I can arrange a transfer," she compromised. "But, my authorization goes through only after informing Price, he also needs to sign off on this."
Your jaw clenches, your fingers tightening around your clasped hands. "Then how about that favor you owe me?"
Station Chief straightens, brow lifting and arms crossed. "Excuse me, soldier?"
Sighing, reaching a hand into your bag, you bring out a folder of your own, some documents signed off. "I had to wonder who the evidence was sent to, given it was right after our mission and Price doesn't even look at his reports to sign off on something in under 24 hours, it wasn't him," watching as Laswell opened the folder, revealing her own name signing off on the interrogation, just a few of the photos that'd declared you guilty. "Thanks for ruining my career, Laswell."
She spreads out the evidence, her own signature on the papers, she breathes out. "And what are you trying to do here, Gray?"
"Stop calling me that."
"Trying to threaten me with what exactly--?"
"Nothing," you answered. "I'm asking for a favor, from someone I thought was my friend," you find it harder to say, Laswell's jaw clicks and she shifts in her chair. "You owe me that much."
"It's the job, (L/n). I was protecting our own, our resources were very promising."
"Until they weren't, huh?" you sarcastically gritted out.
"Yes..." Laswell sighs. "I do apologize, (L/n), but--"
"Just do this for me," you interrupted, pleading this time. "Please. I can't go to him, I can't even look at Simon, let alone Price. Forget about being in the same room with them. I just--I can't be here, this isn't where I belong anymore," looking down at your hands, the scars that circled your wrists. This was a final decision. "I'm resigning with or without you."
Rising from your seat, Laswell stands as you do, "You resign without clearance, they'll take everything from you. Your pension, your insurance, retirement, everything, you'll be dishonorably discharged, you understand that?"
"'Course, I do," you admit. "Honestly, I thought I'd be dead on a mission somewhere before I saw any of that, I don't expect anything out of this. Nothing's...worth any of this."
As you turn the handle to leave, Laswell speaks once more. "I just wanted to enlighten you on what I'm risking for you, signing off on this."
At that, you glance back to her, watching as the older woman sighs heavily, picking up a pen, opening up the manila folder she'd been holding onto previously. Opening it up to reveal your resignation papers.
"If I do this, when I call on you, Gray," Laswell says. "I expect you to be there."
As she wrote her signature down on the dotted line, you swallowed down the ache that's plagued you for weeks, "I swear."
As the station chief continues down the packet, turning to the next page and signing once again, you slowly slide back into your chair, sitting silently as you watch her sign off on your leave from military service.
You bring your hand up fast as a tear runs down your face, wiping it away before Laswell can see, sniffing quietly.
---
Walking slowly down the side hallway of the admin building, you stare out into space, your eyes glistening as you hold the signed resignation packet to your chest, pressing it to yourself tightly.
Passing the front desk, the security posted up at the elevators, you enter the main hall and come to a stop. Your grip on your documents tightening as you watch rain pour out onto the outer glass of the windows.
Watching the downpour outside, you can't seem to get your feet moving to just leave this place. That's all you need to do, just...walk right through it, into a car, past the gates, onto the highway. Just...go home.
As you flinch at the pitter patter of the rain hitting the building, a short burst of thunder, you try to inch your way closer to the doors but the closer you get, the more you can remember. The more you can feel.
The rain gets louder, and louder. It's cold, although you recall it being 90 degrees and in the middle of the desert. It must just be you.
Putting your folder away and into your bag, the automatic doors open for you, but it's too hard to step through. Staring out into the open landscape, the dividing border of the desert land and the gates surrounding the base. The dry ground now turning muddy, trucks driving by and the mud swelling up at the change in pressure, soldiers rushing through the rain, kicking up mud, flicking up umbrellas.
Breathing deeply, you scuff your shoes forwards, feeling the first drop hit your skin, it's warm, but it's no comfort. Gasping at the feeling, you stumble back into the building, the automatic doors closing.
Short gasps of breath quietly leave you, your nails burrow into the skin of your forearm, you stare at the rain as it pelts at the ground, flooding pot holes and falling into storm drains.
The automatic door opens again, you back up, shifting to the side, as an officer gives you a strange look as he walks past and into the rain.
Your hesitance to proceed into the rain was noticed by a few in the main lobby. Like Kyle, who still stood in his mission uniform, dropping off his reports to the main desk, getting off the elevator to see you staring up at the cloudy sky.
His eyes widening in shock, he's lost in his own world when he begins to take steps towards you, lips parting in disbelief, voice cracking as he breathes out to say, to beg or plead for forgiveness.
The automatic door opens again as you shuffle forwards to try to step outside, he doesn't fully notice your fear of the weather when he speaks.
"(Y/n)..."
You turn at the sound of your name and his eyes flicker to the large scar along your cheek, the red of your eye still, that had changed the color of your iris, maybe permanently. The way you hold your bag tight in your hands as if to shield it from the rain before yourself.
You don't say anything, he hadn't expected you to. You stare at him, surprised to see him, then the expression changes to terror, brows pulling inward and hands sinking into your bag to bring it closer. His heart aching at your reaction to him, his lips pressing together, he doesn't know if she should say another thing. Just let you go.
"(Y/n), I..." he can't help himself as he continues, breathlessly.
You back away from him, out of the building and into the rain. The moment it hits your back, soaking through your shirt, rain hitting the top of your head, down your back, you tense up and spin around.
Kyle's brows furrow, before worriedly witnessing as you curl into yourself instantly, crying out in terror, your hands coming up and over your head. "(Y/n)!"
Realizing what you'd done, your back hits the glass doorway, too late for the doorway to register you wanting to come back inside. You stumble to the corner of the building, just next to the doorway and under the too small gutter to find any shelter from the pelting water at your skin.
A loud sob leaves you, squeezing your eyes shut, you can feel the torture starting again, the unbearable freeze of your limbs, the force of crashing pounds of water along your spine. The screams they would pull from you...
Your torment lasts only a few seconds, suddenly the rain stops, but the sound continues around you. A coat settling around your shoulders and over your head, Kyle's hands on your shoulders, he's yelling over the thunder. "Come on, let's get you out of this. Come on, (Y/n)," he takes your arms. "Let me help you, please!"
"You did this," you cried. "I told you. I told you it wasn't me. But, you kept turning it back on! And then you'd leave it like that and it drove me fucking insane. I'll never be ok again, I can't--" hyperventilating. "Don't touch me, Kyle."
Kyle swallows thickly, head hanging low, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before leaning down to you. "I can't leave you here like this, please, love," he hauls you up to your feet. You shove him back, pressing yourself further into the corner, shaking, "(Y/n)--"
"Don't put your fucking hands on me. What don't you get, huh?" you spat. Pulling off the jacket he'd placed over you, tensing at ever drop of rain that fell over you after, but you toss it back at him. "I don't want anything from you. Never again."
"I'm sorry," Kyle clutches the jacket. "I'm so bloody sorry. I'm sorry for every damn thing I'd ever done to you. I'm sorry we didn't listen. I should've never done that to you. I didn't want to, I just--I thought I was doing the right thing for all of us," his voice breaks and he cries under the rain as his little sister, his family, hatefully stares him down. "I thought you'd give in, that it'd be over as quick as it started! I'm sorry I couldn't trust that you were telling the truth all that time."
"I don't want your apology!" you yell. "Cause you'll never know the same feeling. You'll never understand what you've taken from me. What you've done to me--" hiccupping painfully.
Kyle looks away from you, inhaling with a shudder, reddening eyes are covered as he raises his hands to run over his face.
"Your apologies. Your wishes for forgiveness," you seethe. " You should keep them. They mean nothing to me."
With that, you shove on past him, re-entering the building and rushing down the hallway, you turn the corner away from Kyle. Leaving the distraught man out in the rain, the automatic door sliding closed as he looks on after you.
Part 5 OUT NOW!
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appocalipse · 3 months ago
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the same thing ・❥・b. barnes
summary: during a mission, you put yourself in harm's way to protect bucky. back at the avengers compound, he wants to know why. | 1.4k words, angst with a happy ending
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
"You should be resting."
You don't turn your head as the familiar voice comes from behind you, too focused on the delicate art of making the perfect sandwich to look away. You are a woman on a mission. "I was hungry."
A few seconds later, he's standing next to you, leaning back against the countertop with arms folded across his broad chest. "It's been less than twelve hours since they patched you up."
He's not going to stop hovering, you realize, because that's what Bucky does when he's worried.
"Want half?" Maybe you can distract him with food.
He regards the towering monstrosity on the cutting board and the chaotic layers of meat, cheese, and veggies sticking out at all angles.
You can't help but grin as you slap another slice of bread on top. "A quarter, then?"
Bucky has the audacity to look offended. "I'm not eating that thing."
You cradle the plate in your left hand, holding the sandwich with your right, and give him a pointed look. "Your loss."
Bucky just watches, arms still crossed, as you take a huge bite. His blue eyes remain narrowed, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He's like a one-man intervention waiting to happen. You shrug and wander over to the kitchen table.
Sitting down is a bit of an effort. The wound on your side pulls as you slowly lower yourself onto the chair, but if you can keep from grimacing too hard, Bucky won't be able to tell, will he?
Your smile probably gives you away. He narrows his eyes further. "Why did you do that?"
"Because I'm hungry?"
"No." Bucky takes a step forward. "I meant why did you get between me and that shot?"
Good question. The answer is embarrassing and you'd sooner walk barefoot over hot coals than tell him the truth.
"Hm?"
Another step. "I have superhuman healing powers."
"I'll live."
"It was stupid."
"You're ruining my—ow," you mutter, dropping the sandwich as you instinctively put your hand over your bandage. There goes the carefully maintained poker face. You force yourself to remove your hand and look up at Bucky with what you hope is an innocent expression, even as your side throbs in protest. "My sandwich. You're ruining my sandwich. Are you sure you don't want a bite?"
Bucky is too smart to take the bait. He moves around the table, coming to stand in front of you. The whole 'arms-crossed-stern-glare' thing again. It would be intimidating if you didn't know him so well.
"You could've been killed," he's like a dog with a bone, you swear.
"But I wasn't," you say pointedly. "I'm fine."
"Fine? You were shot."
"Will you just let it go? It doesn't even...hurt...that much," you lie.
It will take a while for the super-soldier serum in your blood — a weaker variation of the same stuff that runs through Bucky's veins — to kick in and accelerate your healing.
Bucky exhales. He looks about ready to give you an earful, but then his gaze shifts and he notices the way you're holding your side, how stiffly you're sitting.
You move your traitorous hand away like you've been burned.
"How bad is it?"
"Huh?" you say in a deliberately casual tone. "It's...totally fine. Not bad, really. Don't worry. I don't even feel it."
There's the reason why you've never been a spy. You can't lie to save your life, apparently.
Or maybe just not to Bucky.
"Okay. It hurts, like, just a little bit...like—like not even hurts hurts, just..." you trail off with a grimace as he comes closer. "More of an itch?"
"An itch?" Bucky sounds dubious.
"More of a burn," you concede. "A...mildly annoying but totally manageable sort of a burn."
"You are a terrible liar."
"Okay, so it hurts," you snap, the last vestiges of your patience vanishing. "I have an extensive hole in my side, I get it. It's not—I don't want you to feel bad about it. It's really not terrible, I can take it."
Bucky shakes his head. "What if it had been worse? What if they'd shot you somewhere vital?"
"They didn't."
"But what if they had?"
"Then I would have died!"
Bucky looks at you like you just kicked him. "Yeah. That's what I'm trying to say."
You open your mouth, then close it.
"You think I want that?" he asks softly.
"No." You suddenly feel very small. "Of course not, I just...just..."
"Just what?"
"I don't know," you admit with a sigh. "It's just that you are...people need you, you know? And you have a life, people who care about you, but I'm just..."
A nobody. A girl with no past, who can barely make sense of her present.
"...it would be better if it was me. That's all."
"It would never be better if you were hurt."
"Bucky—"
"You don't get it, do you?" he asks in a low voice. "People need you too."
You roll your eyes. "Please. You mean the team?"
"Me," Bucky says pointedly. "You think it's easy for me? When you get hurt? It kills me."
The sandwich lays forgotten on the table, squashed flat under your clasped hands. "It...kills you?"
He just looks at you for a long moment.
Your heart flutters in your chest. You have a sudden, intense urge to break the silence with a terrible joke, a quip, something light and witty to dispel the heaviness in the air and make this moment go away. But before you can open your mouth, Bucky shakes his head.
"You kill me."
Okay, that's not where you thought this was going. "What?"
"When you say stuff like that. When you make it sound like you don't matter, like it's okay for you to get hurt. Or worse. It's not."
Oh.
"Bucky," you try again, with a more serious tone. "I don't—"
"Stop saying that," he cuts you off.
You realize your mouth is still hanging open and snap it shut.
"You want to know what I think?" Bucky is so close now you could reach out and touch him, if you were brave enough. "I think that you got this...thing in your head, that you're not good enough, or strong enough, or that you're broken somehow. I think that you forget that it's okay to want things. I think that maybe you think nobody needs you. That no one wants you."
You swallow. You're afraid to say anything, to move, because your heart is hammering against your ribs and Bucky is looking at you like he can see straight into your soul.
"But I do."
"Do...what?" you whisper.
"Want you."
It's the last thing you expect to hear. "Bucky, you don't mean that."
His voice drops an octave. "Don't tell me what I mean."
Your cheeks are burning. You feel pinned under his gaze. Your side is throbbing again and you have a mouthful of butterflies and it's all just too much.
You move to get up but only make it halfway before the wound pulls again and you wince. "Shit."
"Where do you think you're going?" Bucky reaches out to help you, one hand braced against your shoulder as you sink back down into the chair. His expression has softened. "You need to rest."
You really want to kiss him right now.
It's the closest he's ever been to you, perhaps. You can feel his breath on your face.
"I need to...? You really confuse me, Barnes."
"How so?"
"Well, first you tell me that I kill you, and then you say you want me. It's kind of a mixed message—"
"I'm not interested in being just friends with you," Bucky cuts you off abruptly. "Is that clear enough?"
Your lips part but nothing comes out. There's a warm, tingling sensation in your chest and you suddenly can't breathe properly. "That's—you—"
Bucky smirks, just a little. He looks almost...proud of himself? Like he's happy he's rendered you speechless for once.
You decide to take a page from his book and put him on the spot. "And what do you think I want?"
"I don't know," he murmurs, leaning even closer. "But I hope it's the same thing."
His lips brush against yours, soft and gentle. He pulls away and you want to chase after him but then he's back again and kissing you harder this time, all teeth and tongue and ragged breathing and heat.
You close your eyes. Your head is spinning and you can't get enough air but you're kissing him back now, both hands coming up to fist in his shirt, holding on for dear life.
His mouth trails down your neck, leaving hot kisses along your jawline. You let out a breathy sigh.
"Is that...supposed to help me heal faster, mhm?"
Bucky just smiles against your skin.
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robynlilyblack · 4 months ago
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Do you think I'm a monster?
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Remus Lupin x fem! hufflepuff! werewolf! reader
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Summary: After an eventful summer, Remus’ finds his girlfriend being distant, but it isn’t until the the next full moon he realises why
Warnings: swearing, mentions of eating, scars, greyback, violence, sex and nudity (non-sexual), kissing, established relationship, hurt/comfort
A/n: 4.1k words, I am back and taking requests, i haven’t written anything for over a year so things might be a little rusty, please bare with me as i get back into the groove of writing but I’m so happy to be back writing again, thank you so much for the request, enjoy ♡
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Navigation | Remus Lupin Masterlist
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Remus’ leg bobbed impatiently, eyes darting to the entrance everytime someone entered hoping it was you yet he was only met with disappointment. His mood did lighten as he saw his friends enter, chuckling as he watched James walk into the table as he tried to woo Lily.
“You alright?” he asks trying not to smile to hard as James groans 
“Eh it’s nothing” he cringes sitting opposite, Peter by his side, while Sirius plops himself down next to Remus “Did she laugh at least?” he ignores his pain and embarrassment, only thinking of the girl sitting little ways down from them now, giggling with Marlene and Alice
“Yeah Prongs, she laughed” he tells a little white lie, though he’s sure Lily probably did think it slightly adorable
“Where's your lovely lady?” Sirius asks, scanning the Hufflepuff table for you
Remus sighs “She hasn’t appeared yet” he knew you were probably catching up with your friends, they had both been away with their families travelling so you hadn’t seen them either…he’d never admit it but he was a tad jealous he wasn’t going to get to hug you first
“Oi” he’s pulled from his gloom by Sirius nudging him, pointing towards the door “Speak of the angel and there she shall appear” he grins, his point turning it’s a little wave at you and your friends
Remus lights up, heart warming at your shy smile and slight embarrassment when both Peter and James join in waving to you…in fact they couldn’t see but Marlene, Lily and Alice had all begun to wave as well. You grant them a small wave back as you head to find a seat, Amos joining you as he smiles at them, while Alex shoots a wink and a small salute, the former towards one particular marauder. 
“Happy now?” James grins at his friend
Remus nods bringing his gaze back to you as Dumbledore starts his speech, he barely listens, doubting it’s any more interesting this year than it has been the last six. Instead he admires you, he’d missed you so much, more than he realised in fact, the boy couldn’t take his eyes off you. His gaze drifted across your features, while he noted your face did look a little hollow, his mind had other ideas, asking you if you had been eating properly could come later, but for now his eyes fixated on your lips as he daydreamed about kissing you, touching you, f…
“Ha…best behaviour for the youngins…” Sirius brings him back to reality, chuckling to himself “...that’ll be right?” turning his gaze to him, before he starts to grin “Moony missin’ her too eh?” he wiggles his eyebrows noting Remus’ blown pupils and guilty look
If he wasn’t already bright in the face Remus was scarlet now “Shut up” he grumbles trying to compose himself, face riddled with embarrassment but it softens as he realises your looking over 
Hi, he mouths 
Hi, you mouth back with a small smile before turning your attention to the front once more but somethings off, he can feel it
You felt awful, every bone in your body ached, and it didn’t help that your skirt's waistband was rubbing against last month's scar. You were grateful none were too visible, the biggest were along your waist and hips from the initial attack, though there was one other on your arm, it could easily be written off as a fall or cat scratch, the former being the one used likely use as it lined up with a real fall you had written to Remus about over summer.
Remus
You sighed as you glanced over at him, finding his attention had finally moved back to his friends, most likely plotting their first prank of the year. It was easy to pretend in your letters, thankfully he hadn’t come looking for you on the train but you knew you would have to talk to him eventually. Would he know? Would he be able to sense you were now like him? Would he see you as he saw himself? Would he think you a monster?
Am I a monster now?
“Hey…” you’re broken out of your gaze, a soft hand finding your shoulder, followed by your friend's kind smile “...are you alright?” Alex asks, knowing something is wrong, just not what
“You can tell us anything” Amos adds, smiling on your other side “You’ve been quiet” and he was right, you’d barely said two words to them since kings cross that morning
How do I tell them? you think eyes welling 
“”Hey hey” Amos turns you around as you try to look away, making you face him “You don’t have to tell us…” he assures and you almost want to cry more, you had such wonderful friends “...but let us help you” 
“Anything you need, sunshine” Alex’s smile grows into a smirk “We do hugs, skipping out on welcome feasts early, hexes…” that one makes you giggle causing the two boys faces to light up
“Think we could start with a group hug?” you look up at them, the welling tears dissipating as they waste no time wrapping you up in a warm embrace
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“Love, wait up!”
You close your eyes, scrunching your face a little as you stop, trying to put on your best act as you turn back around to greet your boyfriend as he lightly jogs towards you
“Oh hi” you smile at him, playing dumb and pretending like you weren’t just trying to avoid him…again
Remus stops in front of you “I’ve been trying to catch you all day!” he laughs a little bit while you feel guilt swell in your stomach “Merlin I’ve missed you so much” he confesses right away 
Dammit, you think, finding yourself folding as you stare up at those big brown eyes of his, it didn’t help that your new little wolfy self was acting up either
You’d noticed the heightened senses, your hearing was impeccable now, and you finally understood why Remus was so prone to irritation, you almost smacked poor Amos in potions earlier for stirring the cauldron a little too loudly. Turns out smell was no different either, Remus smelled absolutely divine, and your wolf earned for him.
“Bun?” he gently prods and your heart breaks…you weren’t his bunny anymore
The realisation causes you to crumble, almost knocking him over as you wrap your arms around his torso, burying your face in his chest
He chuckles at that, oblivious to the turmoil inside “I’ll take that as you missed me too” he returns the hug, nose finding your hair
Merlin you smelled great, more so than normal, your pheromones always drove him nuts around the full moon but it was on overdrive now, so much so he finds himself gently shifting, unable to resist waiting to kiss you in a more private location as he brings one hand up to cup the back of your head, while he uses the other to guide your gaze back towards him, but as he moves in he notices the slight glisten in your eyes 
“Is something wrong?” he asks, large hands finding your cheeks 
You freeze, you never wanted to lie to Remus, you never thought yourself capable, and perhaps you aren’t not truely “I…I wish I could’ve spent the summer with you” it’s not a lie…because if you had, things would be just as they were and nothing would have to change 
His face softens to a downturned smile, his eyes looking at you with such love “You’re too sweet to me” he brings you back into a warm embrace “I promise we will next year” he tells you, and you squeeze him tighter
You might not want me next year
The next few days went slowly for both of you, you knew Remus had figured out you were avoiding him on purpose. Never before had you been so distant, especially before a full moon. It hurt so much, every time you crossed paths you wanted nothing more than to run to him, hold him, kiss him anywhere he was hurting but you couldn’t. You knew how the full moons affected your boyfriend, in fact you could feel it yourself, that desire to be close to the one you love, if you did go to his dorm as you normally did he would see the scars, he would see the bite mark, he would know you weren’t his sweet little bunny anymore.
You fell back on your bed, eyes glancing over to the clock, you would need to leave soon if you were to get deep enough into the woods. Your eyes started to water, you didn’t want to go, this was only your second moon and it was already unbearable 
You had never felt so alone…
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Remus was worried, you never came by to see him, it was so unlike you. These past few days had been so strange to him, he knew something must have happened, he also knew you hadn’t spoken to your friends about it as they seemed just as confused as he did, but whatever it was he couldn’t fix right now
“That's us set up” Sirius pokes his head in averting his eyes from Remus’ unclothed figure “I’m sure she has a good reason moons” 
Remus only nods, waiting until Sirius closes the door before reassuring himself  “She does…” he brings his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them “...she loves us…” he gently rocks back and forth whispering “...she loves us”
Meanwhile Sirius makes it out of the willow, meeting James and Peter as they hide their bags for later “How is he?” Peter asks, looking forlorn as he notices his friend
“He’s putting on a brave face but…” Sirius shakes his head handing his and Remus’ bags to James “...he needs her” he puts simply
“I don’t understand why she didn’t come” James says, feeling genuinely confused as he reaches up to tuck away the last of the bags “Even when they’ve been in a fight she’s always shown up”
“Something must have happened” Peter looks to James “Maybe tomorrow we could go talk to her friends, surely they know” he suggests
James nods, hands finding his hips “Yeah…yeah that sounds good” he agrees, nodding a little more than was necessary in his worry “Sirius that a plan?” he and Peter look towards their friend only to find him looking somewhere between confused and concerned “Sirius?”
After a few more calls and one branch thrown at him Sirius finally responds “I…ugh…look” he can’t even form a sentence, doing a double take at his friends as he points towards the lining of the trees
James and Peter's eyes scan the area, widening with horror as they see you running towards the tree line. The trio look amongst themselves, their eyes doing the talking as they shift, they didn’t have much time to question why you were out here on tonight of all nights but they follow you into a small clearing, watching as you hang your bag on one of the branches, opening it up as you begin to take off your clothes.
Sirius makes a quiet grunt for only the boys to hear as they grasp you are fully stripping down causing them to all look at him instead of you as they give each other confused looks. However you never make it that far, it’s a scream that causes their heads to shoot back in your direction and they watch an all too familiar scene
You did have a good reason for not showing up tonight…and it shattered their hearts
They didn’t have much time to dwell. Sirius jumps into action first, attempting to distract you from clawing at yourself, while James slowly approaches behind with Peter sitting up on his back acting as a lookout for Remus as if you turned he surely couldn’t be far behind. 
You seem a little startled at first before stalking towards Sirius, you seem to note he isn’t scared of you, the boys watch as you calm, your body no longer tense, nor sensing you are in danger and so you let them guide you warily through the woods. In all honesty the boys had no idea what they were doing, they figured if you could sense that Sirius wasn’t a threat then maybe you and Remus would recognise each other as such as well…hopefully
As they came towards the clearing they could hear Remus as he whined in pain but the boys had no time to react as you already bolted off. Startled, they try to catch up, but as they move past the tree line they realise you’ve already made your way to him, growling. 
Shit
They’re eyes flick between one another, worried they had made the wrong choice until they watch Remus relax, the two of you sniffing around each other before you begin to lick his wounds and it dawns on them that you weren’t challenging him, you were berating him for hurting himself.
The rest of the moon went by smoothly, the best the boys had ever seen and it was all thanks to you. By the end Sirius and Peter had managed to herd you and Remus back into the willow while James headed back to get your bag
“I can’t believe it” Peter says in astonishment, sliding down the roots to sit at the entrance beside James “No wonder she’s been acting off”
James hums in agreement, fiddling with the strap of your bag “She doesn’t deserve this…neither of them do” he states, sadness washing over him “Man…this gonna break him when he wakes up, he loves her so much”
“He does…” the boys jump a little as Sirius reappears from the willow “I didn’t want to go in fully for y/n’s sake...but I’ve thrown the blanket in that general direction and well…it’s not like they haven’t seen it all before” he makes a face, chuckling softly with the other two as lowers himself to the ground to join them as they decide to try and get a little bit of sleep
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At first you didn’t know where you were, eyes opening slowly to survey your surroundings, you had expected to wake up in a ditch somewhere but not…wait. Your eyes widen, jolting up with a slight hiss as you look around, you were in the shack but if you were in the shack then that meant…
“Hey…” you jump a little at his voice, slowly turning to find Remus sitting just behind you, posted up against the wall, one leg half bent with his arm wrapped around it “...how are you feeling? Any pain?” he asks, strain evident in his voice, he looks broken and it kills you
You can only shake your head, slowly bringing the blanket up to cover yourself, shivering a little from the cold draft “Rem…” you say so quietly you’re not even sure you’ve said anything at all
“You’re cold” he states, wincing a little as he moves over to you, body still aching from from his own transformation “I’m okay, don’t worry” he assures, knowing exactly what you were thinking “Here” he pulls off his jumper “Hands up sweetheart” 
You do as you're told, allowing him to slip the jumper over your head. He was being so gentle with you, like you might shatter at a single touch, it shouldn’t have surprised you but it did, he must have seen the scars, he must see you differently now…he must…
“Do you think I’m a monster?” you whisper and his movements stop, eyes meeting yours in shock
He blinks at you a couple times before letting out a confused “What?”
Your eyes mist “Do you think I’m a monster?” you repeat, gaze never leaving his
“No” he shake his head firmly, hands finding yours “Never” he says almost harshly, stunned you would ever think such a thing 
“Really?” you eyebrows lift, hope and relief in your voice 
His eyes soften, confusion washing away as he finally sees it, and a bitter sense of deja vu falls over him. Almost a year ago to the day he sat in your position, looking up at you, asking if you fought him, a monster. He even remembers trying to convince you he was but you wouldn’t hear it, you refused to believe he was no matter what he said. In the end he stil didn’t believed it, but seeing you now, looking at you from the other position he realised just how stupid he had been, how much his own self hatred had made you scared to come to him, made you hate yourself the way he had all this time
“Really” he promises “Is…” he hesitates, because he’s almost certain he knows the answer “Is this why you've been avoiding me?” he asks, one hand slipping out of your own to softly cup your cheek
You lean into it, eyes fluttering as your own comes up to cup it “Yes” you confirm and he nods, looking in though “I’m so sorry…I…” he cuts you off 
“Don’t you dare” he warns “You aren’t turning into me, I won’t allow it” both hands are cupping your face now “You haven’t changed, not to me, okay? You are still my girl, still my bu-” but you cut him off this time
“But I’m not I-” you try to argue but Remus isn’t having it
“Stop” he gently shakes your face to regain your attention “You know why I started to call you bunny?” you shake your head “Because whenever you get excited you would do this little bounce, you do it when you’re excited to see me, geeking out about a new book and not to mention when we…” he blushes, stopping himself
You feel heat rush to your cheeks “Remmyy!” you gently shove him as you bounce a little in faux annoyance, causing you both to let out little laughs 
“There she is” he smiles at you, laughing more as you become self aware of your bounces, getting all shy before him “Nothing you could ever do would make me think you a monster. I’m so sorry bun, I never want you to talk about yourself the way I have, understood?”
You hum in agreement, nodding “...but that means you can’t be cruel to yourself either” you challenge him, holding your pinky up at him as a small smile gracing your face as you do
Remus clicks his tongue, of course you would use this as a way to help him love himself as well “Fine” he promises, taking your pinky “…now come ‘ere” he moves back to sit against the wall once more, patting his lap as he hithers for you to join him while you chew on your lip a little, shyly accepting the offer and moving to straddle his legs 
“There we go” he presses a lingering kiss to your hair, hands wrapping around you while your head falls into his chest “Better?”
“Much” you hum, savouring the moment before you lift your head “I suppose you must have some questions?” you wonder, hands finding his chest, fiddling with buttons of his shirt
“I do” he confesses, it was only natural “My attack is hazy for me now because I was so young…” he softly caresses your cheek “...but it’s fresh for you and I…I don’t want to pry, I can wait until you’re ready” he assures you
You take his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his palm “You remember I told you about my dads case? He was representing the family that was attacked much like you were?” you begin and Remus nods, hands moving to your hips, thumbs gently brushing beneath the hem of his jumper   
“Yeah, in your letters you said they got them all and your dad was taking you up north to celebrate?” he recalls but then his lips part “They didn’t get them all did they?”
You shake your head “Turns out their was a much bigger player, someone else behind the scenes who was pulling all the strings” you explain, eyes falling down to his chest, this is going to kill him
“Love…” he tries to guide you back to him “...who…” but as your eyes meet his and they tell all 
“Rem” you voice trembles a little
“Say it” he begs you
“Greyback” you whisper watching as Remus’ heartbreak sinks into rage, his grip on your hips tightening “Remmy…Rem…”
He doesn’t hear you say his name, everything around him fades as his anger grows. He never wanted to hear that name again, he never wanted to see that monster again but now? All he could think about was ripping him apart, taking away his freedom like he had done to so many, making him feel as weak and powerless as Remus had felt his whole life…how you would now feel your whole life
I’ll kill him
“Rem” you gently cup his face pulling back to you “Stay with me” you kiss him softly
His hands come up to meet yours “But he hurt you, cursed us to be in pain for the rest of our lives…and the worst part is he’ll be revelling in it all…that bastard…he…” his anger sinks into sadness at your comforting touch “he…” he pleads with you 
“He did and we don’t ever have to forgive him but we can't let him take away anything else from us either. He won’t ruin our lives”  you watch remus’ eyes soften and you smile at him trying to lighten the mood “Besides…there's always silver linings”
“And what would those be?” he tilts his head, struggling to see it
“Well…” you move your hands downward and kiss his cheeks “...if your senses are anything like mine I smell great” you giggle and he starts to smile, a loving gaze as he looks up at you “And perhaps more importantly…” you peck his nose making it scrunch in the most perfect way “...you’ll never worry about me during a full moon…” you nudge your nose against his “...and that fantasy you have of us living in your parents old cottage can be real, because…” you lean in close, lips grazing as your foreheads kiss “...you’ll never be alone again”
Remus’ heart feels like it might burst, you were right, there were silver linings. He had no idea what his life was going to be like after Hogwarts, he knew he couldn’t rely on his friends forever, nor could he have asked you to bear that responsibility alone, instead you and he would face it together, care for each other together…heal together
“Promise” he holds up his pinky 
You smile against his lips, wrapping you own pinky around it “Promise” and with that he closes the gap
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Thank you for reading ♡ (I promise my writing will get smoother again with time)
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1K notes · View notes
misojunnie · 3 months ago
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DELICATE ─ psh. ☆ (teaser)
does love ever cross the line?
# genre: rich kid!enemy!sunghoon x fem!reader, forbidden love, enemies to lovers, slow burn, family feud, non idol au
# warnings: substances, lots of pining/angst, cursing, insults, mature jokes, implied sex, I have no idea how businesses work plz don’t roast me
# featuring: sunghoon & enha! + le sserafim
# playlist: delicate by taylor swift, take care by beach house, love by kendrick lamar, babydoll by dominic fike, hurts so good by astrid s
# a/n: hello all! been a long time :,( my life has taken several turns since I started this account, and I've been so preoccupied with my own bs that running this blog is becoming harder than ever... hence my little disappearing act. but I don't want to disappoint u guys! this fic was supposed to be released several months but it completely slipped my mind :( I decided to log in once again to finally let you all see it! I hope you like it and I hope to be back again soon 💓 much love to all my dedicated readers and I appreciate you all more than you know!
# word count: 13.2k
# taglist: @lovialy @minniejenseo @powerpuffstuts @mnxnii @idkdykilr @ionlyreadforfanfics @heelovesmeknot @100520s @simjyunnie @scrumptiousloser @eneiyri @pinkkami @milkycloudtyg @enhypenlovre @pinkkami @m3chigo @saythenameseventeen178 @desistay @capri-cuntz.@taerifin @ohmykwonsoonyoung @vixensss
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this was written upon anon request; check it out here!
when your father’s company cratered after a faulty business deal, a vendetta was formed between your family and the biggest export company in south korea. but that rivalry begins to falter when you fall in love with the ceo’s son.
[more under the cut!]
You hated the business world. 
It was ruthless. Bloodless. It had no heart and no compassion. It taught you that humans were created to tear their own kind apart; it was a dog eat dog world.
A couple years ago, your family’s company went bankrupt, and you blamed it all on the Park Company. Fine, maybe your father held some culpability for throwing his business away in a deal that was obviously so faulty. But naivete and malice were entirely different things altogether; one was mostly harmless. The other? Not so much.
The Park Company was the most ruthless corporation in the business world. Working in any kind of business guaranteed running into them sooner or later. And now, not only had they run your business into the ground, they owned over ¾ of your company’s wealth in stock. Not that it was worth much anyway.
Well, it turns out fixing your father’s mistake was a little harder than you thought. Reviving a company from the dead was difficult, especially when public opinion wasn’t exactly favorable. So you made the riskiest decision yet; to start from scratch. You invested all your family’s ruined fortune on establishing your dream hotel. Even if it was the last thing you did, you would have more than a ruined corporation as your legacy.
With ten cents to your name and a pipe dream, you managed to create what would later be the most successful hotel chain in South Korea. Your wealth grew, and so did your reputation. Some praised you for making such a comeback, some degraded you for your family’s mistakes. And it definitely didn’t help that your father became a raging drunkard after his failure, raving the streets like a maniac. You even considered having him taken out just so he’d stop damaging your reputation, but you decided against it. To you, it didn’t matter. Your success was your only concern.
Destroying your life was all in a day’s work for the Parks. They were so obscenely powerful, that losing a mere company like yours was like losing an eyelash. Meaningless. You were nothing to them.
You hated them with a vengeance. They didn’t even know your name.
Or so you thought.
☆☆☆
Awards banquets were Sunghoon’s least favorite part of being in business. Forget the ruthlessness and backstabbing, dressing up in a suit and pretending to be successful blew all that warfare out of the water.
“It’s too tight.”
“It’s fine. You’ll be fine. Just stop complaining.”
“I’m not kidding, Jake. Loosen it or I’ll kill you.” Jake sighed, tugging on the navy blue tie until it was hanging loosely around Sunghoon’s neck, a stark and messy contrast to his crisp black suit and neat button up.
“Jesus Christ. After fifteen years, you’d think you’d know how to tie a tie.” Jake said, shaking his head as his best friend checked his hair in the mirror. 
“Are you sure we have to go to this thing tonight?” Sunghoon huffed, brushing a stray piece of hair into place.
“Don’t be stupid. You’ve been going to these galas since you were six, and dragging me along with you.” Jake scoffed, pushing Sunghoon’s head from behind and ruining his hairstyle yet again, the latter glaring at him.
Jake Sim, heir to the Sim corporation. An airplane manufacturing company that was this close to going under when the Parks took pity and bought nearly all their stock. These days, their company was worth next to nothing, but young Sunghoon took Jake under his wing, and there was no escaping now, to his chagrin. Though they’d never admit it, they had grown very fond of each other.
“You love it.” Sunghoon teased, tearing his eyes away from the mirror after checking his hair a last time. “God, I can’t believe we’re still having these idiotic galas. Everyone just knows they’re a coverup for big corporations to distract from the fact that they’re abusing their poor workers.”
“Nobody cares these days. Put a bow on anything and the media will eat it up.” Jake said, adjusting his tie before slapping his friend on the shoulder. “Ready to ruin some lives? Destroy some young futures?”
“Not funny.” Sunghoon warned, pointing his finger at Jake while trying to tug on his shoes with the other hand. “You know how much I hate the company.”
“Say that as much as you want, but you’re still wearing shoes bought with your daddy’s blood money.” Sunghoon huffed.
“Hm...I suppose you’re right.” he said, putting his hands on his hips.
“C’mon, let’s get you to the ball, Prince Charming.” Jake dragged Sunghoon out of the room by the wrist, locking it behind him, Sunghoon in tow.
Sunghoon sighed. God, how he hated his life. A legacy built on deception, and nothing he could do about it. Him and Jake made their way to the elevators, his dull eyes disappearing behind the closing doors.
He didn’t belong anywhere. Certainly not here.
☆☆☆
On the other side of the city, you were having an entirely different conversation.
“Take that off, Chae.” you said, biting into an apple. Your red lipstick bled into the fruit as you stared judgingly at Chaewon’s enormous diamond necklace.
“But it’s so pretty.” she crossed her arms, but you gave her a stern glance and she turned around to change with a roll of her eyes. “And you, put that out.” you swatted at Jay’s hand, a lit cigarette perched between his two fingers, roiling smoke spilling from the top. “You’re gonna make my new dress smell like smoke.”
“Jeez, what’s got your panties in a twist?” Jay asked, putting out his cigarette on the corner of the coffee table, which made you frown. “No need to stress. You’ve done this business routine a million times over.”
“I’m just nervous, I guess.” you said, hands fidgeting in your lap.
“I thought you didn’t care what the Parks thought about you.”
“I don’t.” you said firmly, tongue poking into the flesh of your left cheek. “I just want things to go smoothly, that’s all.”
“So you’re not gonna stand up to those fuckers that ruined your life? No protest?” Jay asked, resting his chin on his hand. “You always wanted to take them down.”
“Of course I do. But tonight’s not the night.” you sighed, rubbing your forehead, smudging your foundation and cursing when you realized what you had done. “I just want to be put together, just for one night.”
“Well you certainly look the part, honey.” he said, eyes trailing over your floor length red gown. “You’re a proper businesswoman.”
“I hope so.” you laughed.
“You’re gonna kill it. I know it for a fact.” Jay said, pressing a kiss to your cheek before standing. “Now let’s get you to this ball.” You grinned up at him, getting to your feet and brushing the dust off your skirt with determination.
“Let’s show these people who the Queen company is.”
☆☆☆
When the email stated “an intimate gathering”, you didn’t exactly expect nearly 300 people crammed into a dancing hall. The building was bursting at the seams to hold all the milling guests as they sipped on champagne and dined on fine food, laughing boisterously, teeth chattering. You hid your mouth behind the rim of your glass. You didn’t want to talk to a single person tonight.
Across the room, Sunghoon was doing the same. He had just about enough of the noise, and was considering running to the bathroom to hide when his father clapped him on the back and engaged him in a conversation he didn’t care about.
You wished you could escape.
He wished he could escape.
You stood, leaving your empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter as you walked around the crowded hall, searching the crowd for anything of interest. Your eyes landed on the desserts, and you beelined for the table of sugary treats, hoping to at least find a bit of solace in them, head down as you avoided the public eye.
Your hand bumped into another’s when you reached for the tiramisu.
“Oh, excuse me.” he said softly. He was beautiful. Dark eyes, silken hair and pink lips. His posture was straight as a ruler, shoulders back and a kind look on his face. It was almost too cliche, running into this beautiful stranger. 
If only you didn’t know who he was.
You turned to look at him, eyes meeting. “It’s you.” you said, and he stiffened at the sight of your face. “I was wondering when we would meet.”
Sunghoon wasn’t expecting the daughter of the Queen Company to be so beautiful. Sure, he had seen pictures, but they had never done you justice. And putting a face to the name was suddenly making him dizzy.
“Hello.” he said politely, avoiding your eyes as he gulped, throat dry. “I’m Park Sunghoon. Son of the Park company president.”
“Oh, I know who you are.” you waved him off. “No need for introductions between us. Time is valuable, let’s not waste it.”
“And patience is a virtue, so let’s make time.” Sunghoon said, smiling a tight lipped smile with his hands behind his back.
You looked at him skeptically. You didn’t think it was possible for Sunghoon to be more of a prick than you expected him to be, but he had somehow done it.
“Y/n Y/l/n,” you said, holding out your hand for a handshake. “President of the Queen company.” Rather than shaking your hand, Sunghoon bowed his head, his lips brushing over your knuckles as he held your hand, pressing a chaste kiss to it.
“Charmed.” he said, and your brows raised instinctively.
“I’m sure.” you scoffed, pulling your hand away and rubbing it on the side of your dress in disgust. Sunghoon’s eye twitched. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m rather busy.”
“With what, buzzing around the dessert table?”
“With running a business.” you snapped, turning on your heel and walking away as fast as you could. Sunghoon watched, listening to the faint clicking of your off-brand heels against the marble floor, shaking his head the moment you were out of sight.
He totally fucked that up.
“Jesus, that guy is more of an asshole than I thought.” you huffed, taking your assigned seat and placing the desserts you had gathered on the table, Chaewon excitedly reaching for a mango pudding.
“What, is that even possible?” Jay asked, sparking up another cigarette. You swatted the lighter out of his hand, and he scowled.
“Apparently so.” you sighed, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. You couldn’t wait for this night to end. You could feel eyes on you from all sides, judging, watching your next move. Waiting for you to fuck up, waiting for you to make a mistake or a rash decision they could broadcast to the media.
“I think we started off of on the wrong foot.” you heard a voice say from behind you, and you craned your neck to meet the eyes of Park Sunghoon, yet again. Those damn dark eyes. Swimming with emotion.
“I think there’s a reason for that.” you responded sharply, quick as a whip.
“Let’s start over. What do you say?” he grinned, leaning his head down until he was at your level, ignoring the stares he received from your friends.
“I say I’d rather die than become acquainted with you. Sorry.” you said very unapologetically, pleased with the put-out expression on his face.
“Well,” he said, straightening up and adjusting his jacket indignantly. “Doesn’t someone have an enormous chip on her shoulder.” Your smug expression crashed, morphing into a scowl. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Y/l/n.” With that, he stalked away, nose turned up and an unpleasant look on his face.
“Stupid piece of shit.” Jay said, sparking up his cigarette with the lighter he retrieved from the floor. You didn’t try to stop him, just stewing in your own displeasure. You couldn’t believe that audacious bastard. Was he aware that his family was the sole reason for the ‘enormous chip on your shoulder’?
You tried not to let it get to you, and quickly gave up. Suddenly, this was feeling all too real, and you got to your feet, brushing off your dress, bunching it in your hands. You felt like you were going to throw up.
“Bathroom.” you mumbled, pushing your way past to get to the exit.
☆☆☆
If you didn’t know better, you’d think Park Sunghoon’s spirit was haunting you on purpose. The only thing convincing you otherwise was the fact that he was alive and well –to your chagrin.
You sat, fuming from your office as his snotty face stared at you from a newly mounted billboard across the street, a wide smile on his face as he endorsed some brand of cologne. So not only was he a scumbag businessman, now he was some kind of model? It turned your stomach to think about it.
“I want that billboard down, now.” you grumbled, dropping your head onto your desk in despair as Jay watched you with amusement.
“I can get someone to set it on fire, if you want.”
“Not necessary, but I appreciate the thought.” you said, standing and pacing around the room restlessly. “We need to take them down.” Jay snorted, taking a seat in one of your office chairs, twirling around comfortably.
“What, take down the biggest corporation in the country? It’s not as easy as it seems, honey.” You glared at him, continuing to pace. “Look, don’t get me wrong. I wholeheartedly support your ventures to destroy Park Sunghoon, but don’t you think your fury is a bit misplaced? His father is the one that destroyed your company.”
“Evil by association.” you waved him off. “Plus, he’s rude.”
“Can’t disagree with that.” Jay took a long drag. You hadn’t even noticed that he lit a cigarette, and you rolled your eyes at him.
“You seriously need to stop smoking.”
“I’ll stop when you stop seeking vengeance.”
“...Touche.”
☆☆☆
You seriously needed a vacation from work. After five 16 hour shifts, the exhaustion was beginning to set in. You couldn’t even remember the last time you went out with friends. A couple of years ago, there wasn’t a weekend where you, Jay and Chaewon weren’t in some hole in the wall drinking until you forgot your failures. But ever since your company took off, you didn’t have time for that behavior. But that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy a good dive bar now and then.
You snuck through the entrance of your favorite dive bar on the East side of the city, your slip skirt waving in the wind as you nodded to the security. This was the only bar in South Korea that wouldn’t sell you out to the papers, and besides that, they made a damn good Manhattan.
There were less than 10 people in the whole place, an odd couple here or there and some folks in need of a pick-me-up. You took a seat in the middle of the bar, your usual seat at the end taken by a sodden boy with a big hood that covered his face.
“Hey, Won.” you greeted the bartender as he wiped his hands with a towel, smiling at your entrance.
“Hey, y/n.” he said, throwing the towel over his shoulder. You heard the man beside you stir. “Manhattan?”
“You know it.” Jungwon reached for a bottle of whiskey, expertly mixing and measuring like it was muscle memory, finishing your cocktail with a flourish and sliding it over the counter. You had gone to high school with Jungwon and Sunoo, the two men who owned the bar, and had been friends ever since. You trusted them.
“How’s the business?” he asked, leaning with his elbows resting on the marble. “Saw you on the news the other day. Said you stormed out of the Park’s gala.”
You sighed, “Yeah. It’s been a tough week.”
“I hear that,” he said, straightening up with a grin. “You’ll get through it, stronger than ever. You always do.” you smiled, pressing the rim of the glass to your lips.
“Thanks, Won.”
“No problem. Just kick those greedy bitches in the ass for me.” That elicited a chuckle from you, Jungwon smiling upon hearing your laugh. “I’ll go get Sunny. I’m sure he’ll wanna say hi.”
“I’d love that.” you said gratefully, watching as Jungwon weaved around the back of the bar and into the back room. You looked down, sipping your drink, lost in thought.
“What are you doing here?” A grating, angry voice interrupted your haze. You turned to the boy sitting beside you, and it felt like you lost your buzz in an instant.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” you said, staring into the dark eyes of your nemesis yet again, this time foggy with drunkeness. “You seriously had to find the one place where I could escape your face?” he asked bitterly, taking another swig of his vodka soda.
“My face? There’s a sixty foot billboard of your face outside my window.” you grumbled, and he snorted gracelessly. You could tell by his hoodie being pulled forward and his bangs covering most of his face that he was trying to hide, just like you. “I’ve been going to this bar for four years.”
“Lucky you. I just found it last week.” he took another sip. You suddenly felt silly sitting multiple stools away from him, but you’d be damned before moving closer. “This is the only place that won’t sell me out to the press,” he sighed. “And their bartender is pretty damn good.” You observed the four empty glasses sitting beside him, the way he was slurring his words. Clearly he had come here for the same reason you had.
“Won’s a pro.” you said, averting your eyes. The Sunghoon before you was throwing you off. He had humanity, and you hated it. It gave you a reason to hate him a little less than before.
Jungwon emerged from the back, a bright faced brunette in tow. Grateful for the excuse to end the conversation with Sunghoon, you leapt out of your seat and rounded the bar to pull the man into a hug.
“Hey, Sunny!” you said brightly, and he grinned.
“I didn’t get a hug.” Jungwon rolled his eyes, reaching for a bottle of tequila to complete another order.
“How’ve you been?” Sunoo asked, releasing you to get a good look at your face. “Wow, it’s been awhile since you’ve been in here. You look all adult-like.” You scoffed, brushing him off. “Where’s Jay and Chae? I haven’t seen them in months.”
“I didn’t tell them I was coming.” you admitted.
“Ah, one of those nights?” he asked, and you nodded. “You busy working? I’ve seen you in the news, the company’s looking good.” Sunghoon snorted from beside you, and you resisted the urge to glare.
“Pretty busy, yeah. The business world is a battlefield right now.” you said with a pointed look at the man beside you who slammed his glass down on the counter.
“Another.” he muttered, and Jungwon looked him up and down skeptically.
“I think you’re done for the night. I’ve gotta cut you off.” Won said decisively, and Sunghoon looked up at him with glassy eyes.
“Fuck, whatever.” he said, getting up from his seat and drunkenly stumbling, tripping as he dismounted from the stool, using the counter to steady himself.
“He doesn’t look so good.” Sunoo said quietly, and you watched him, poking your tongue into the flesh of your cheek in confliction.
“You need help?” Jungwon said, ready to assist as he clapped a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder, but the older boy shook him off frustratedly.
“I’m fine, get your hands off of me.” he stuttered, swiping at him.
“Hey, I’m just trying to help.” Jungwon said defensively, shaking his head as Sunghoon tried, failing, to make his way to the door. You huffed, setting your drink down and abandoning the last sip as you made your way to him.
“Hey, stop being an idiot. Let’s get you a taxi.” you chastised, and he scowled.
“I don’t want help from you.” Sunghoon mumbled, and you rolled your eyes.
“You’re drunk, Sunghoon. It’d be a nightmare if the news caught you wandering on the street.” That made him think, and he begrudgingly wrapped an arm around your shoulders, refusing to speak.
“You need help?” Sunoo called after you, and you waved back at him.
“Don’t worry, I know him. Put the Manhattan on my tab.”
“It’s on the house, angel. Get home safe.” Jungwon said, and you sent him a grateful wave as you attempted to get Sunghoon out the door, shutting it behind you.
“Why are you doing this?” Sunghoon said, almost incoherent. “You could’ve sold me out to the press. To get your revenge.” You pondered his question, then shrugged.
“I can’t say I don’t want to.” you admitted. “But you’re vulnerable right now. I know what it feels like to be blindsided when you’re defenseless. I wouldn’t do that to anyone. Clearly not even my worst enemy.” Sunghoon snorted.
“You’re a good person.” he mumbled, his eyes practically closed with the weight of his exhaustion and intoxication.
“Take notes.” you chuckled as you texted your driver, simultaneously attempting to get Sunghoon over to a bench. “I called a car for you, so just sit tight.” You both sat in silence, staring into the dark city, breath fogging in the air.
“I am sorry, y’know.” Sunghoon said, nose and cheeks red from the cold air. “About what my father did. I never would have condoned it if I had the power to stop him.” You stared at him blankly, before the corners of your lips turned up.
“Thanks. You must really be drunk.” He chuckled in response.
“Yeah, maybe.” He shook his head.
“Y’know, Sunghoon,” you started. “I hope you run the company the way you think it should be run. Stand up for yourself.” He didn’t respond to that, just staring at the floor, twiddling his thumbs. 
“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I think I will.” A car pulled up to the curb, and you sighed in relief. Sunghoon stood up, insisting he was fine when you tried to help.
“Goodbye, Sunghoon.” He looked back at you in silence, before nodding.
“Get home safe.” And with that, he shut the door of the car, the engine rumbling as he turned the corner and disappeared into the night.
☆☆☆
Park Sunghoon was an idiot. And he was finally beginning to accept it.
He woke up with a pounding headache, grimacing and gripping his forehead in pain. It felt like there was an 80 decibel bass pounding his head, and he blamed it all on the vodka soda. And you, of course. You were making his head spin.
He stumbled out of bed, attempting to shove his feet into the slippers next to his bed, confused to find that they were pink and at least three sizes too small.
“Morning, sunshine.” a feminine voice called, and Sunghoon was beginning to realize that this wasn’t his home at all. He froze as a beautiful young woman stepped out from the bathroom, a lush robe wrapped around her body. “Feeling sober?”
“How did I get here?” Sunghoon asked, dropping back onto the bed as the woman snickered, reaching into her closet.
“You were on the floor whining and crying outside the office building. I took you home when the press got wind of your theatrics. Remind me to get a key to your apartment copied if you’re gonna keep acting like this.”
“You don’t need a key, Yunjin. Don’t be stupid.” Sunghoon rubbed his head, frustrated. He didn’t even remember going to the office in the first place, much less being picked up by her; aka the daughter of his father’s closest business partner, aka the woman he was predicted to wed if all things went his family’s way.
He wasn’t partial to the idea. Neither was she.
“A thank you would be nice.” Yunjin rolled her eyes, emerging from the closet fully dressed, already on the phone and pulling on a pair of high heels. “Now get out of my apartment. I have to get to work.” She tossed him a key and a fresh tee shirt from her closet. “Get dressed and lock up when you’re done.”
“Got it.” Sunghoon said, rubbing his eyes and pulling the tee shirt over his head. Yunjin looked back at him, tongue poking into her cheek.
“My mother still wants me to marry you, y’know.”
“Well she and my mother have that in common.” He rolled his eyes. She frowned.
“You’re too careless, Sunghoon.” The door shut, and Sunghoon was left to think about her words. His mind raced as he recalled the night before.
Your kindness.
Your smile.
How he apologized and didn’t think twice.
He shook his head, shuffling to the kitchen and opening the fridge, the cold tile pressing against his feet. Maybe he was too careless.
☆☆☆
The room felt stuffy, and so did your nose. You wondered if you were catching a cold, or if you were just allergic to business dinners.
“Hey, y/n.” Jake said, taking a seat beside you. You wiped your nose, flashing him a tight smile.
“Hey.” you replied, looking at your lap. Jake was one of the rare people you respected, and part of that was due to his company’s failure, like yours. He had built it back up to its former glory, but remained humble. You didn’t mind him. He was sweet.
“You seem bored.” he said, watching as you stared at the floor, clearly ambivalent toward what was happening around you.
“Astute observation.” you chuckled under your breath.
“I get it. These dinners can seem like a chore.” he said, picking up his wine glass by the stem. “Trust me, I’ve been going to them since I was six.”
“Lucky you.” you snickered. “Why do you even bother?” “Sunghoon always drags me here one way or another.” Your mood visibly dampened at the mention of his name, and you took a sip of your wine, hiding your mouth behind the lip of your glass. “How are things between you two?”
“If he dropped dead, I wouldn’t cry at his funeral.” you cleared your throat.
“But you wouldn’t cheer either?” Jake grinned, and you rolled your eyes.
“Whatever.”
“Baby steps.” he laughed, and you failed to suppress a smile. “I’m happy nonetheless. It’s nice to see you get along.” You wiped your nose again.
“That’s a stretch.” you scoffed. As if summoned to disprove you, the presence of Park Sunghoon suddenly entered your view, his hands tucked into his pockets. You couldn’t help but notice how nice he looked when his hair was pushed back.
“Mind if I borrow the lady for a moment?” he cleared his throat and Jake stood, flashing you a knowing look when Sunghoon wasn’t watching.
“Point taken.” you grumbled, as Jake snickered to himself, making himself busy on the other side of the room. After a moment of hesitation, Sunghoon took his seat.
“Hi.” he said slowly, and you nodded in acknowledgement. The energy was painfully awkward. “Um, I just wanted to say sorry about the other night. I haven’t really gotten a chance to contact you or anything, but I am sorry, and I should’ve called-”
“It’s fine.” you said tightly, shaking your head. “It happens.”
“Not to me.” he said defensively. “Look, I only apologize once in a blue moon, so just let it happen.” That elicited a chuckle from you.
“Alright. I accept your apology.” you said amusedly, and he let out a sigh of relief. You watched him blow a piece of hair out of his face, his lips parting for a moment to let out a breath. You averted your eyes when he caught you staring. He truly was beautiful.
Sunghoon’s thoughts were similar at the moment. While you avoided his gaze, he watched the way your eyelashes batted, pushing a strand of hair out of your face.
“I gotta go.” Sunghoon cleared his throat, and you nodded, eager for his exit. “Um. I’ll see you around, I guess.”
“Don’t sound so excited.” you said sardonically, and he rolled his eyes as he got up, giving you a dramatic bow as he walked away and towards another table. You watched him leave, eyes following his graceful figure and the way he smiled.
“You want to fuck him so bad.”
“Ew, Chae!” you yelped at the sudden interruption, waving off the smug girl leaning on your shoulder. “No way. Me and him? No, never. Don’t be silly.”
“Whatever you say.” she shrugged, taking his seat as she sipped on her third glass of red wine. “But the eyes don’t lie.” You glared up at her.
“I seriously hate you.”
☆☆☆
Three clinks of a wine glass, and your attention was at the front of the room. Sunghoon seemed to be giving a speech, and you brought your eyes to the stage. When you realized he was already looking at you, an unfamiliar feeling flooded your stomach. It felt something like dread.
“Welcome, everybody.” Sunghoon said, smiling warmly into the crowd, met with applause and good natured whoops. His father, however, was looking at him like he had just killed his cat, leading you to believe he wasn’t intended to make this speech.
And you were right. Sunghoon’s heart was pounding in his chest as he stared into the hordes, some faces familiar, some not.
“I’d like to thank you all for being here today.” Sunghoon said. “And I’d like to make a toast to the company and all of its potential. All it has accomplished, and all it will continue to accomplish.” The clinking of glasses resounded through the room as your frown deepened, your arms crossing over your chest. “And I would like to say, as the heir to the Park legacy, that I will try my hardest to steer this company towards kindness.” he said, with a fleeting glance towards you. “And so, cheers to the Park company. And cheers to ushering in a new era of ethical business.” The crowd, while mildly confused, burst into applause, their glasses rattling, champagne and wine alike spilling over the rims as people took celebratory gulps.
You shook your head, picking up the hem of your dress as you stood, walking to the exit with a smile on your face.
You sat on the steps outside the building, your knees pressed to your chest as you took a long drag of your cigarette. You told yourself you would quit, but something was itching at you that you couldn’t quite scratch, and nicotine seemed to do the trick momentarily. You were yearning for some peace.
“Flighty, aren’t you?” An amused voice said, the sound of light footsteps preceding it. You turned around, exhaling when you saw Sunghoon’s face towering over you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
“Nice speech.” you said, ignoring his comment.
“You mean that?”
“I do, actually.” Sunghoon chuckled, seating himself beside you with a grunt. “I didn’t say you could sit with me.”
“I don’t need your permission.” Sunghoon scoffed, folding his knees. You glared at him, but didn’t protest, taking another drag. “Put that out. I hate smoke.”
“I don’t need your permission.” you mocked him.
“Touche.” he said, resting his chin on his knees. “I suppose the both of us are equally headstrong.”
“Trust me, I’m more stubborn.” you laughed, ashing your cigarette and watching the sparks hit the floor. After a moment, you stubbed it out against the bottom of your shoe, rubbing the dark ash off with your thumb. Sunghoon noticed, but said nothing.
“I meant what I said in my speech, y’know. It wasn’t just to impress you.” you snorted at that. “I mean it! I do want to reform the company.”
“That’s admirable.” you nodded. “I’m glad to see my words had an effect.”
“Me too. See? I’ve only spent a couple days with you and I’m already becoming a better person.” Both of you went silent at his words, his eyes widening as he realized what he said. But he didn’t take it back, the two of you staring, searching through each other's eyes. You hesitated to say something, but there was no hesitation when he reached out for you, your lips colliding as he kissed you.
His hand ghosted across the back of your neck, resting at your nape, making the hairs rise. Your skin felt like it was on fire as he tilted his head, pulling you closer, one of his hands resting on your waist, his thumb rubbing over the fabric of your dress. After a breathless moment, you pulled away. Both of you stared at each other in silence, panting to regain your breath, hungry for more, but hesitating.
After a second, Sunghoon’s swollen lips split into a grin, and he began to laugh, leaning back on his hands as he snickered. You heaved out a sigh, but you couldn’t hold back the smile on your face.
“You are so fucking annoying.”
☆☆☆
You now had Park Sunghoon’s number. It had been three days since you kissed, and you hadn’t yet texted him. You wondered if he assumed you would.
But you didn’t have time to worry about that now. You had work to do.
“Jay, I need you to run a diagnostic on the hotel website and check for errors. And Chaewon, please call Mr. Choi, for the millionth time, and request some new cleaners. We need three dozen rooms cleaned before 10:0o pm.” you said, flipping through a checklist. You had been buzzing around your office drinking coffee and handling busy work since 4 am. It was sufficient to say that you were in business mode. “And both of you, be quick about it. I have a million more tasks to take care of.”
“Okay, Mom.” Jay rolled his eyes, getting out of his seat on the couch and you sent him a quick glare. “Since when have you taken anything seriously?”
“If you haven’t noticed, I have a business to run these days.” you said facetiously, and Jay placed an apologetic kiss on your cheek before running out of the door. “You too, Chae.” She shut her laptop, sending you a quick salute.
The minute the room was empty, you dropped onto your chair, letting your head loll backwards, closing your eyes. The minute you opened them, you were confronted with the enormous, cheesy grin of Park Sunghoon facing you from the billboard across the street. You huffed, getting to your feet and tugging down the blinds with a frown.
You could not get him out of your head.
As you sat in silence, stewing with rage at the fact that Sunghoon, of all people, was occupying your headspace, your landline rang, the little light flashing green as the phone vibrated. You picked it up with a sigh.
“Y/n speaking.”
“Why haven’t you called?” You froze, slamming the phone down and hanging up as quickly as your hands would move. That infuriating, smug voice, you’d recognize it anywhere. You stared at the phone blankly until it began to ring again, and after a moment of reluctance, you picked it up again. “What exactly is your problem?”
“How’d you get my number?” you said exhaustedly, spinning in your chair and getting tangled in the phone cord.
“I called your secretary.” you internally cursed Chaewon, letting out a deep breath through your nose. “I gave you my number so you’d text, you know.”
“I’m busy.”
“I’m busy too. I still found the time to call.”
“I wish you wouldn’t have.” you quipped. “What, you wanna see me?” You could hear him chuckle from the other end.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Vice prez told me you’ve been waiting on upper management’s approval for your budget. I’m here to take care of it.”
“Oh.” you replied embarrassedly, crossing your arms.
“Aw, don’t sound so disappointed, sweetheart.” he tutted. “We’re sending a representative over tonight to discuss business.”
“I’m assuming that’s you.” you said, and he hummed in response. “I look forward to it. And by the way, we aren’t close enough for pet names.” You hung up without allowing him time for a reply, taking a moment to collect yourself before you straightened your jacket and got back to work, a deep frown on your face.
Sunghoon, on the other end, was grinning like a fool.
☆☆☆
Three knocks resounded from your door, and you looked up from your laptop for the first time in hours, cracking your neck in the process. Rubbing the back of your neck, you called out into the empty room.
“Come in!” you said, and Chaewon’s head peeked through the door, her black bob swishing as she walked inside, her pink heels clicking against the floor.
“Park Sunghoon is here to see you.” she said, and you sighed, looking down once again. “He’s in the lobby. Says he’s getting impatient.”
“Let him in.” you waved her off, and she nodded. “Oh, and Chae? Give out my number one more time, and you’re so fired.” She grinned coyly, blowing you a kiss as she slipped through the door. You rolled your eyes. You were beginning to wonder if you had a single competent employee in your entire company.
It didn’t take long for Sunghoon to find your office. It felt like the air chilled when he walked through the door.
“Hey,” he said warmly in greeting, his hands tucked into his pockets. He looked incredibly handsome in his tailored gray suit. You slapped yourself on the forehead internally, shifting in your chair uncomfortably. You were acting like an idiot.
“Hi.” you said tightly, straightening a pile of papers. He dropped onto the couch, kicking his feet up on the table. “Make yourself at home.” you said sarcastically.
He grinned, “Let’s talk business, sweetheart.”
“Remember what I said about the pet names?” you reminded him, getting up from your desk and slipping into the chair across from him.
“Aw, c’mon. Loosen up,” he urged you, leaning forward in his seat. “Now, whaddya got for me?” You looked down at the stack of papers in your hand.
“Well, due to necessary improvements, budget has increased this year. We’re in the process of funding a new computer system, and we’ll definitely need more support if we want to expand the branch in Seongbuk-gu. So, I’d say we’re looking at a couple hundred thousand, minimum.” you explained, sorting through your files.
“Boring.” Sunghoon mimed a yawn, standing up and walking to the makeshift bar on your side panel, unscrewing a bottle of whiskey.
“Can you please take this seriously?” you asked exasperatedly.
“I am,” he said defensively, pouring a sizable glass of whiskey. “I’m more of a vodka guy myself. I’ll have someone go on a grocery run next week and get you stocked.”
“Sunghoon.” you deadpanned, and he rolled his eyes.
“Aw, c’mon y/n. Aren’t I supposed to be the uptight one, and you the free willed?”
“You seem free willed enough for the two of us.” you grumbled.
“Alright,” he said, moving to sit back down on the couch. “I have a confession to make.” You stared at him expectantly. “Management approved the budget. I sent off the form yesterday and it was done by 9:00 am this morning.” You raised a brow.
“So…”
“So I came here just to see you, yes.” You smirked, and he groaned in annoyance before you even had a chance to respond.
“I fucking knew it!” you laughed, and he took a sip of his drink. “Park Sunghoon, you are a player.”
“Whatever.” he sassed, standing back up to refill his glass. “Promise to call me next time, and I won’t have to make any surprise visits.”
“I can’t make any promises.” you grinned. “But you can make me a drink.” He looked at you for a moment before chuckling, pouring a second glass of whiskey with a splash of sweet vermouth and bitters for a makeshift Manhattan.
“There’s no cherry, but I did my best.” he said, handing it to you.
“You remembered.” you said warmly, and he nodded. You took a sip. It was a bit too sweet for your taste, but you didn’t mind. You were smiling so brightly, he was itching with the urge to kiss your cheek, so he did. Your smile fell as you rubbed your cheek, Sunghoon avoiding eye contact with you as he sat back down.
You sat across from each other in momentary silence. The window was open, and the night air brushed against your cheeks. Sunghoon’s nose was pink from the cold.
“Do you like me, Sunghoon?” you asked, breaking the silence. He stared.
“Whoah,” he chuckled nervously, slender fingers toying with the rim of his cup. “You get straight to the point, huh?” You didn’t respond. “Let’s not talk about it.” You thought for a minute, before nodding, folding your knees and resting your chin on them.
“I’m okay with that.”
☆☆☆
Surprisingly enough, your friendship with Park Sunghoon was persistent if nothing else. In front of the press you still acted like enemies—you both agreed it was better for your respective companies if nobody knew you had become unlikely companions. But behind closed doors, you would smile when you saw him entering a room, and he would call you on a late night after a hard day of work.
Tonight was one of those nights. 
You tore your eyes away from your phone lighting up the black night, ringing on the table. You and Jay were sitting on the fire escape of your apartment complex, passing a lit cigarette back and forth and watching the smoke disappear into the evening sky. You could see all of Seoul from the penthouse.
“You gonna answer that?” Jay asked smugly, taking a long drag as he watched you stare at your phone in conflict. You turned it over.
“Nope.” you said, reaching for the cigarette and taking a drag until you felt lightheaded. “I don’t have time for him tonight.”
“You seem to be spending a lot of time together lately.” Jay replied, and you glared at him. “Hey, I’m not poking fun. I’m genuinely curious.” You turned away, staring at the glimmering skyline. “You’ve fallen for him, haven’t you?”
“No.” you brought the cig to your lips again. “No, I haven’t.”
“Then what is it?” “...I don’t know.” you admitted. Watching the cigarette burn into ashes in your unmoving hand, Jay began to light his own. “I used to hate him so much, Jay. And now, he’s something completely different than what I thought. He’s a good person.” you turned to look at the boy sitting beside you.
“I know,” he affirmed. “I know.”
“So,” you said, remembering your cigarette and ashing it on the railing, watching the gray ash fall to the ground several stories below. “What now?” Jay took a drag.
“I think that’s for you to decide, y/n. I think you’ve earned the right to let go.” His words touched you. Had you finally worked hard enough to look past those who had wronged you? You had achieved everything you dreamed of, and more.
Were you finally more than your own vengeance?
You didn’t respond, only grabbing your phone and wrapping your jacket a little tighter around your body to protect yourself from the cold breeze.
“I think I’m gonna call him.” you announced, and Jay chuckled.
“I had a feeling,” he said, stretching. “I’m gonna head home. See you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow.” you said, watching as Jay walked out the door, giving you a little salute before shutting it behind him. You sighed, staring at your phone.
3 Missed Calls From Park Sunghoon.
You hesitated for a moment before pressing the call button, letting your phone rest on your lap as it rang. He picked up on the second ring.
“Hey.” his muffled voice said through the phone.
“Hey.” you responded.
“I’m outside.” Your eyes widened, and you immediately ran to the edge of the fire escape, peering down to the entrance of your apartment building. Surely enough, there he was, his back resting against the wall, polished shoes tapping against the concrete.
“How long have you been waiting for?” you called, and he looked up, his face barely a speck from so high up.
“Not long.” he responded.
“How’d you know I’d answer?” you could barely make out his grin in the dark.
“You always do.” you rolled your eyes, retreating inside and tugging on a pair of flats. You took the elevator down, and when you entered the lobby, Sunghoon’s solemn face was the first thing you saw. His nose and cheeks were tinted red from the cold, and his hair was messy from the wind. You smiled, tucking your hands into your pockets.
“You wanna come upstairs?” you asked. “I’ll make tea.”
“Tea sounds nice.” he said quietly, smiling as he followed you to the elevator.
This was the first time Sunghoon had seen your apartment, and he was fascinated to say the least. As you fussed over the boiling water and choosing the right tea, he toyed with the perfumes on your coffee table, running his hands along your brown leather couch and smelling the fresh flowers you kept in glass vases. He was enchanted by this little space you had created for yourself. His apartment was just a bachelor pad, filled with expensive furniture and lacking life.
“I like your apartment.” he said, staring at a print of Marilyn Monroe that you kept on your wall. “It’s stylish.”
“Thanks. You want jasmine or oolong?”
“Jasmine, please. And bring a shot of vodka with it.” You snorted, pulling out two tea bags and pouring two shots, bringing them to the coffee table.
“So, what brings you to my side of the city?” you asked.
“I had a hard day.” Sunghoon knocked back the shot of vodka, wiping his lips. “Thanks. I needed that.”
“You’re welcome.” you said, throwing back your shot and setting the small glass cup on the table. You didn’t want to think of the implications of Sunghoon coming over in the middle of the night without any warning. It made your head hurt.
“I’m finding that, as of late,” Sunghoon began. “That you have a somewhat calming presence in my life.” You froze. “Lately I’ve been under a lot of stress, with remodeling the company and everything. My father’s been giving me hell about my new policies. I don’t think he likes my idea of ‘ethical new business’.” He let out a large exhale. “At the end of the day, you’re really the only one who understands me.” He smiled bittersweetly. “And, well, I’m grateful for your company lately. Spending time with you has been the only thing keeping me sane. It’s hard to imagine that we ever hated each other.”
You couldn’t think of a single thing to say. You felt like your heart was rising in your throat, and you cleared it, attempting to collect yourself. Sunghoon chuckled, looking at the floor with red cheeks.
“Is it cool that I said all that?” he said after a moment of silence. “Cause I know that it’s delicate.”
“Y’know, I used to hate you more than anyone in the world.” you laughed gently. “But I agree with you. These days, you’re the only thing keeping me sane.” Sunghoon gazed at you, but you were looking into your cup of tea. “And yeah, it’s delicate. But I don’t really care what anyone thinks but you.” You met his eyes. Those damn dark eyes. Swimming with emotion. And they were trained quite blatantly on your lips.
Before you could register it, he was reaching for your face, his rough palm caressing the soft skin of your cheek, pulling you into his embrace as he kissed you gently, his other hand on your waist.
You had kissed before, but nothing had felt as intimate as the moment you were sharing now. Those past kisses had been a fleeting moment, an impulse decision, but now Sunghoon was kissing you like you were the only thing in the universe, like you were all that mattered. His grip on your waist was bruising, as though he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. You felt drunk on love and vodka, shifting yourself onto his lap as you tangled your hands in his hair. You were both breathless, hearts racing as you held each other tightly, losing yourselves in the taste of each other’s lips.
Sunghoon pulled away, his lips splitting into a smug smile as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, your lips red and swollen as you attempted to catch your breath.
“Remember when you asked if I liked you?” he asked, hands trailing over your bare thighs, eyes trained on the way your eyes twinkled under the dim lighting and the thin tank top you were wearing underneath your jacket. “Well, I think I have my answer now.” you licked your lips, before grinning.
“You’re an asshole, Sunghoon.”
“Then I’m really lucky you like me.”
☆☆☆
You woke up to two things; Sunghoon’s face, and the sound of yelling.
His eyes were closed, his full lips slightly parted as he let out gentle snores, his dark hair sticking up. As much as you wanted to admire the way the morning light hit his skin, you stood up and walked to your balcony, peeking outside.
You yelped, slamming your glass doors shut as you ran inside, pulling on a pair of sweats, simultaneously shaking Sunghoon awake.
“Sunghoon, get up. The paparazzi are here.” you said frantically, attempting to retrieve a shirt from your closet when a pair of strong arms pulled you back into bed.
“Five more minutes.” he groaned from under the covers, and you fought back a smile, attempting to pry his grip off of you. His hands made their way to the straps of your bra, pulling and letting it snap back onto your skin. “Lace, huh? I didn’t notice.”
“I’m not kidding, get up.” you said, pushing him off of you and running to your closet to grab the top half of your tracksuit, pulling it over your head.
“What’s the rush?” he said, finally sitting up, ears perking when he heard the loud voices coming from outside. Peering out the window, his eyes widening.
“Oh shit,” he cursed, getting to his feet and hurriedly pulling on his shirt. “How’d they find us?” You shook your head, biting your lip as you thought about what to do.
“Not sure, but we should try to preserve our image.” you grabbed a snapback from your nightstand, putting it on his head to cover his face. “You go out the back, I’ll curse them out and keep ‘em distracted.”
“What happened to preserving your image?” he snorted, buckling his belt.
“Well, my reputation’s never been worse.” you said, tapping him on the nose. “So you must like me for me.” He smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.
“Mm, I do.” he said, before tugging on his shoes. He blew you a kiss before running out your front door, shutting it behind him, making sure it didn’t slam. You watched him leave, your fingers tracing where he had kissed you, and you smiled for a moment before collecting yourself.
“Hey!” you yelled, stomping towards the paparazzi stationed outside the lobby of your apartment. They immediately whirled in your direction, cameras flashing as they all fought to get their questions out. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Ms. Y/l/n!” a reporter yelled. “Are you aware of the rising scandal between you and Park Sunghoon?” You scrunched up your nose.
“Park Sunghoon?” you repeated in disgust.
“Sunghoon was reported to have arrived at your home at midnight last night! Do you have anything to say to these accusations?”
“Do I have anything to say?” you scoffed. “You must be mistaken. Park Sunghoon is a pig, just like the rest of his family. I hope the media understands that I do not, and never will, have anything to do with a pompous asshole like him.” The paparazzi erupted into questions and flashing cameras, but you turned on your heel and sashayed back inside, waving them off as the sliding doors closed behind you, drowning out the noise.
On your face you wore a grimace.
☆☆☆
A newspaper slammed onto Sunghoon’s desk, his drowsy eyes snapping open at the sound. “‘Park Sunghoon is a pig, just like the rest of his family!’ States Queen Corporation’s CEO After Being Accused of an Illicit Affair with the Park Company’s Son”, stated the title. Sunghoon smiled momentarily, but his amused expression dropped when he saw the furious face of his father towering over him.
“Would you like to explain this?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm. Sunghoon was smart enough to know that meant he was enraged.
“Um, is there anything to explain?” Sunghoon said timidly. “She said it herself, we’re not involved.” Sunghoon’s father rubbed his temples.
“Well, obviously, Sunghoon. I’d hope you’re smart enough to not get involved with the one woman who could ruin our company.” Sunghoon winced internally. “We must do something about this issue. Y/n is the only threat to our company.”
“Surely she’ll leave us alone if we don’t encroach upon her business.” he attempted to reason, but his father looked at him as though he had gone insane.
“Absolutely not. We’ll have to speed up your engagement to Huh Yunjin.” Sunghoon leapt out of his seat.
“Father, you can’t be serious!” he said in disbelief.
“I won’t hear any complaints. The Huhs own the largest company in Korea, second to ourselves, and we can’t afford to make an enemy out of them. Merging our companies will give us total dominion over the business world.” his father said with finality. “Not to mention their only heir is a woman. We’ll control their company through you.” Sunghoon bit his lip.
“But I don’t want to marry her.” His father shook his head.
“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”
☆☆☆
A newspaper slammed onto your desk.
“Park Sunghoon, a pig? A likely story.” Jay snorted, slipping into the seat across from you. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, picking up the newspaper. “Late night, huh? So it must be true.”
“Shut up.” you said, but you couldn’t hold back the smile on your face. “Guess I went a little overboard, but it makes for a good story.” Jay raised his brows at you, taking a sip of his coffee. “Will you stop looking at me like that?”
“I think you’ve got a little crush.” He said in a sing-song voice. You snorted.
“I’m a grown woman, Jay. Us hooking up doesn’t mean I have feelings for him.” Jay shrugged.
“Say whatever you want, but it’s obvious that you like Park Sunghoon. There’s no denying it.” You were about to respond when your phone rang, and you shooed Jay out of your office as he mimed kissing childishly.
“Hello?” you asked, and a familiar voice responded.
“A pig, huh? A pompous asshole?” Sunghoon spoke smugly.
“I did what I had to do.” you shrugged, spinning in your office chair.
“Mm, sure.” he said, holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he jotted down notes. “Well, Ms. Y/l/n, I’m calling to let you know that the Parks are throwing a very exclusive fundraising gala tomorrow, and there’s an empty seat for a certain CEO if she’s so inclined.” you snorted.
“Oh, really? And would your family like to see me there?” “A little trouble would do them some good. Plus, I want to see you.” You blushed on the other side of the phone, covering your mouth with your hand. “And I’ve booked a private reservation for two at the shittiest bar on the East side,” he joked. “So?”
You thought for a moment. After your recent statement in the news, walking into a Park gala would be like walking into a den of tigers. But since when had you been afraid of stirring the corporate pot?
“I’ll be there.” you promised, and Sunghoon grinned, tucking a pen between his lips. “I should look for a dress.”
“I’ll have it taken care of.” He twirled his pen. “Just wait for my call.”
“See you tomorrow then.” you grinned.
“See you tomorrow, m’lady.”
☆☆☆
It was three hours and counting until the Parks’ big gala. You stared at the wall ahead of you while Chaewon tried on countless lavish dresses and Jay sorted through piles of patterned ties. Sunghoon had assured you that you could bring your closest friends, but you weren’t certain that his family would appreciate your troupe of misanthropes intruding upon their event.
“Cheetah print, or zebra print?” Chaewon asked you, holding two dresses against her body. You shook your head, biting the nail of your thumb.
“Neither. Pick something nice, Chae.”
“This is nice.” she protested, but put the dresses down and continued to look around. Jay noticed the way you stared vacantly ahead, stressfully chewing your nails, and he set down his ties, scooching in closer.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked cautiously. “Nervous?”
“I couldn’t care less what those people think about me.” you said, and Jay chuckled at your classic behavior.
“Okay, so. What’s wrong?” His eyes held concern as he rubbed his thumb along your arm, and you sighed heavily.
“I do care what he thinks. And that’s the problem.” Jay let out a quiet sound of understanding. “I don’t understand. Why do I even care about him? The only thing on my mind for the past six years has been destroying that family.”
“Y/n,” he began. “You don’t have to punish yourself for forgiving someone.” You stopped biting your nails. “Especially someone with no fault in the situation.”
“But he’s one of them.” you mumbled.
“Does he seem like a good person?” Jay asked. Your eyes made contact for a moment, before you nodded and quickly looked away. “Then that’s all that matters.” You considered his words for a moment, before sighing, folding your hands.
“You’re right, you’re right. Thanks Jay.” 
“I’m always gonna be here for you. Try not to worry.” He patted you lightly on the back as he stood, and you gave him a tight smile. Your eyes were drawn to your bed, snug in the corner of your apartment, a large bag lying on top. Fabric peeked out from beneath the top, a shining sapphire blue. You held your head in your hands.
Trying not to worry was proving to be impossible.
On the other side of the city, Sunghoon was tightening his tie.
“You finally learned how to tie a tie.” Jake snorted, but Sunghoon didn’t laugh. He was staring vacantly out the window and into the horizon, zoned out on the skyline. “Hello? Earth to Sunghoon?”
“What?” Sunghoon snapped out of his trance, whipping around.
“Something on your mind?” Jake tucked his hands into the pockets of his ironed blazer. They were both dressed in their nicest suits in preparation for the night’s events. Sunghoon shook his head.
“I can’t stop thinking about her.” Sunghoon admitted, and Jake grew serious. “This whole time, I feel like I’ve been looking for something deeper than just being the heir to this bullshit company. When I’m with her…I feel like I found something real.” “Sunghoon,” Jake said tenderly. “As of a couple days ago, you’re engaged.” Sunghoon sighed. “You can’t do that to y/n.”
“I don’t want to get married.” Sunghoon said, his voice breaking, which he quickly covered up with a cough. “I don’t want to marry Yunjin, and she definitely doesn’t want to marry me.”
“As sad as it is, you don’t have a choice.” Jake said sympathetically. “I know you’re upset. But just try to keep it together for tonight.”
“Yeah, got it.” Sunghoon scoffed, fidgeting, adjusting his cufflinks. “After 21 years, I’ve become accustomed to putting away my emotions for my father’s benefit.” Jake watched sadly as his best friend adjusted his jacket, shaking his head before exiting his room and striding downstairs to where the gala was taking place.
☆☆☆
Your eyes scanned the luxurious room, full of familiar but unwelcoming faces. Chandeliers were draped from ceilings twenty feet high, crystals glimmering in the golden glow, sending fractals of light spiraling around the room. You were receiving dirty looks from every corner of the ballroom, judgemental whispers echoing. You tried your best to tune it out. Jay stood behind you, glaring back tenfold at every disapproving partygoer, Chaewon oblivious to it all as she enjoyed the decadence.
You needed to find Sunghoon or you would lose your mind.
His face shone from the other side of the room, and when your eyes connected it was like the rest of the world fell away. His warm, brown eyes captivated you as he quickly left whatever conversation he was a part of, weaving through the crowd to get to you. He was breathless by the time he made it through the sea of people.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” you responded unsteadily, looking over your shoulder to see his father watching you with a fierce glare. “Sunghoon, I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
“Since when have you cared what everyone else thinks?” he said with a bittersweet grin, and you chuckled, some of the tension relieved. “C’mon, I’ll show you the dance floor.” He tugged on your hand, whisking you away. You attempted to hide your face as you left with him.
Jake watched you leave, sipping gin from a crystal glass. Jay approached his side, picking up a bottle and emptying its contents into the largest glass he could find.
“They’re so fucked.” Jake said without thinking.
“I don’t know,” Jay said, taking a swig. “They seem like they really love each other. Who says love doesn’t conquer all?” “The business world.” Jake chuckled, looking at his reflection in the bottom of his glass. “I just hope he lets her down easy.”
“What do you mean?” When Jake looked up, Jay was staring at him inquisitively, brows furrowed. Jake’s face dropped, his heart in his throat.
“He hasn’t told her yet?” Jake asked hesitantly. Jay’s grip on his drink tightened. The two men stared at each other in silence, the tension palpable.
“...Told her what?”
☆☆☆
Sunghoon closed the towering, intricate wooden doors behind you as you entered the ballroom. Ceilings made of mirrors caused the light to bounce around the room like stars, and you watched, breathless. The smooth floor was slick under your stiletto heels.
“It’s beautiful.” you said, and Sunghoon watched you with a smile.
“A dance, m’lady?” he asked, offering his gloved hand to you. You took it with a grin, and he pulled you into his arms.
The two of you swayed, rocking back and forth in each other’s arms as he attempted to guide you in a waltz. You were uncoordinated, and you both giggled as you tripped over your feet. His thumb rubbed across your hand as he counted out the steps for you. There was no music playing, but you could both feel the rhythm in your head, like a grand orchestra was conducting a song just for you.
When you were alone, your head was suddenly clear. The stress from earlier melted away as he gazed into your eyes, and you rested your head on his shoulder, the two of you twirling as he hummed a song under his breath.
“You’re improving,” he joked. He was right, you were no longer tripping and stumbling. You had gained a sense of the rhythm, following his lead gracefully. He extended his hand, prompting you to spin, and you did.
“I have a good teacher.” you laughed, watching your gown twirl. The dress that Sunghoon had bought you was beautiful, trailing against the ground, the crystal detailing lighting up underneath the dappled golden light. Only then did you notice the sapphire shade of his tie, and how it perfectly matched your dress. “Let’s hope the press doesn’t get wind of our fashion faux pas.” you joked, gesturing to your matching attire.
“To be honest, I don’t really care.” he said, and his honesty made you gulp.
This was all too real for you. Your feelings for him were ripping you from the inside out, and you felt too nervous to speak. The feeling in your stomach was more akin to wasps than butterflies.
“Y/n.” he said seriously. “You know how I feel about you, don’t you?” He was overcome with guilt. He really didn’t want to do this to you, not now, not when he knew he’d have to break the news soon. It was too soon. His time with you was too short lived, he couldn’t let it go. Not when you were the only person who made him feel complete, the only person who made life feel like it was worth continuing.
“No, I don’t.” you grinned, baiting him to say the words himself, and he chuckled. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”
“Maybe it’s easier without words.” he said, unclasping his hand from yours so he could trace his fingers along your cheek. 
He dipped his head to kiss you, and your hands were tangled in his hair as he held you tightly. There was something desperate about the way he kissed you, holding you like you might slip through his fingers if he loosened his grip. The two of you kissed fervently, full of convolution and mixed emotions. He pulled away from you for a moment, but only for long enough to whisper,
“I love you.” You pulled away from him, his gaze intense. You always had a weakness for his eyes. It felt like they held galaxies. The weight of his words sunk upon you, and you opened your mouth to speak.
“I love you too.” you whispered.
☆☆☆
You and Sunghoon had parted ways after your illicit meeting, him fleeing to the front of the room to discuss with his father, you hesitantly retreating to your table. Chaewon was sipping vodka; Jay was nowhere to be seen.
“Everything okay?” she asked immediately, setting down her cup.
“I’m okay.” you assured her, your lips splitting into a bright smile despite your distressed exterior, and she let out a breath of relief, wrapping an arm around the back of your chair when you sat. “I can’t wait to get out of here.”
“Same.” she agreed, taking another swig of her drink. “Though I bet your reason is different than mine.” She sent you a wink, to which you shook your head amusedly.
Your eyes were drawn to Sunghoon, standing onstage with his father. He seemed nervous, and you wanted nothing more than to be standing beside him, but you knew you couldn’t. Not in public, and you were wondering if you two would go public one day.
You would do it the moment he asked, no hesitation. And that scared you.
You picked up a glass sitting on the table that you assumed was Jay’s, taking a large swig. It burned your throat, and you put it down with a wince. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a tall and elegant woman standing on stage, honey colored hair curling gracefully on her shoulders. Her floor length golden gown sparkled in the light.
“Welcome, valued guests.” a loud voice and feedback from the microphone snapped you back into reality, and your attention was drawn to the stage, where Sunghoon’s father was speaking with a cheesy, large grin. “Thank you all for attending our fundraising gala, graciously hosted by the Parks. We appreciate all of your generous donations.” he cleared his throat. “And on behalf of my lovely son, we have some news.” You began listening, setting down your cup.
“We are delighted to announce our own Sunghoon’s engagement.”
Your face paled. You felt like the world was crashing down around you, everything muffled. You could vaguely sense that Chaewon was talking to you, but you couldn’t process it. You felt like you were going to throw up.
“Sunghoon and Huh Yunjin of the Huh Company are set to wed in three months, and our companies will officially be merging.” Flashing cameras went off like grenades, the sound filling the room as the woman smiled for the camera, holding onto the arm of the man who told you he loved you. Despite the camera demanding his attention, his eyes were on you. And those beautiful eyes that you loved, they were devoid of feeling.
He stared at you, pale as a ghost, lips parted in silent surprise. The cameras snapped photos of him as he barely breathed, lost in the injured gaze of the woman who loved him. And you stood, striding towards the exit before you could even register what you were doing, ignoring the curious stares you were receiving. All you could see was the exit, the door that would lead you out of here.
The sound of cameras flashing and the hum of gossip silenced as you walked into the night, taking a deep and ragged breath. Tears spilled from your eyes before you could help it, and you swiped your palms over your face, smudging your makeup, sobbing unsteadily.
As Sunghoon watched you stand, he pulled himself away from the tight grip of Yunjin on his arm, eyes trained on your disappearing figure as panic rushed through his head. His father turned back towards him.
“What are you doing?” he asked quietly, urgently, as Sunghoon pushed through the crowds of paparazzi, jumping off the stage and running towards the exit. He burst through the doors, chasing you until he found your weeping figure running away.
“Y/n!” He chased after you. You knew you couldn’t outrun him, so you didn’t try. You just shook your head, turning away from him.
“Fuck off.” you replied harshly, and he grabbed your wrist.
“Please, I’m sorry, let me explain.” he begged.
“Explain?” you snapped. “Sunghoon, you’re engaged. There’s nothing to explain.”
“I don’t want to marry her.” he said desperately. “I never have, and I never will.”
“You told me you loved me,” you sobbed, wiping your eyes with your free hand, and Sunghoon’s eyes burned with tears and the cold wind.
“I do,” he said gently. “I love you more than anything.”
“Then why?” you said. “Why are you getting married?” “...I don’t have a choice. It’s for the company.” he said reluctantly, and you shook your eyes, pulling your wrist out of his grip and wiping your eyes for the last time.
“I can’t believe I thought you were different.” you laughed incredulously. “I thought you were different, but it turns out you’re exactly like your family.”
“Y/n, don’t say that.” he pleaded. “I’m not like them.”
“Yet you do what they say, slaving away for a company that does nothing but hurt people?” He went silent. “I should’ve known from the start that you would hurt me. God, I can’t believe I thought you really cared about me.” “I do.” he insisted, reaching for your hands, but you pulled away. “I care about you, I care about us-”
“There is no ‘us’, Sunghoon!” you yelled. “There never has been! Because you always knew that at the end, you’d leave me the minute someone told you to.” 
“That’s not true, y/n.” he shouted. “Everything we went through, that meant something to me. I meant everything I said, I’d do anything for you! I’d leave the company if you asked me to!” You scoffed.
“You wouldn’t do that for anyone, Sunghoon. You’re too much of a coward.” He didn’t respond, his hands hanging weakly at his sides. He felt numb.
A black car roared to life, approaching from the parking lot. The windows rolled down, and you were comforted to see Jay’s stony face in the driver's seat, Chaewon watching you from the back seat with concern. He nodded to the passenger side.
“Get in.” he said, requiring no explanation. He already knew.
You ran for the car, and Sunghoon came after you. You had one hand on the handle when he caught your wrist in his fingers.
“Please,” he begged, his voice a whisper in the night as his eyes pleaded with you. “Please, don’t leave.” You almost yielded, but instead you removed your hand from his, opening the door and sliding into your seat.
“Go.” you said quietly to Jay, and he accelerated, speeding out of the lot. His hand rested on top of yours, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. You silenced your tears, chin resting on your palm and staring out the window into the city to ignore how much your heart was aching.
☆☆☆
It had been four days since Park Sunghoon told you he was getting married to another woman. It had been three days since you called out of work sick, and two days since you blocked his number after countless missed calls. It had been only one day since you stopped crying yourself to sleep.
You weren’t used to being vulnerable. Since your father ruined both his career and your own, you were used to building up walls around yourself. You were filled with bitter irony that the person who tore those walls down was part of the family that hurt you so badly in the first place.
You felt like an absolute idiot, to say the least.
You flipped through a magazine, your hair up as you lounged in a salon chair. You had just gotten your nails done, and you tried not to smudge the gel as you flipped through pages of jewelry ads and gossip articles. When you stumbled across a promotion for cologne, Sunghoon’s handsome, smiling face decorating the page, you shut it with a sigh.
“Do you have any other magazines?” you asked the woman who came to do your hair, sharp nails gripping at the edges.
You strode down the bustling streets of Seoul, your fur coat clenched tightly around your body, a designer purse held in your free hand. You got plenty of stares as you walked down the street, some admiring, some judgemental. But you had learned not to care. You sighed, your warm breath fogging up the cold daylight, before dissipating.
The sound of screeching static froze you in place, and you turned to look at the towering screens lined up in the window of a store, all glitching. You stopped for a moment, waiting until they regained their sense, switching to a news channel.
An anchorwoman with a bad blowout and a gaudy diamond necklace was pointing very seriously at an image behind her, her other hand wrapped around a stack of papers as she read off a script.
“The business world- is sh-shocked,” she began, her voice skipping as the tvs froze and unfroze in sync. “At the alleged emancipation of Park Sunghoon from his family’s very successful enterprise. Mr. Park made a public statement this morning, claiming that he ‘would not continue to entertain unethical practices, and could not condon the idea of marrying purely for business’. Rumors are, according to inside sources from corporate high society, that he left his company for love.”
You stared quietly at the tv. A million thoughts were rushing through your head, but the majority of them were this;
You needed to find Sunghoon.
☆☆☆
The door to his apartment creaked open, Sunghoon peeking out from behind. His hair was matted to his forehead, sticking up in places, and his typical nice clothing was replaced by a white t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweats. He looked like hell, but it didn’t matter; he looked the most beautiful you’d ever seen him.
“You’re not a coward.” Was the first thing you said when he opened the door.
“I am,” he replied.
“You’re not, and I didn’t mean that. I was scared.”
“You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” he said, shaking his head. “It was all my fault. I fucked up, and I lose the only person I care about in this world because of it.” You stood up a little straighter, clenching your fists.
“At the end of the day, you’re really the only one who understands me.” you said firmly, and he smiled, recognizing his own words. “Sunghoon, I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And that’s why I was so afraid of you hurting me.”
“I wish I could take it all back.” Sunghoon said, his hand tracing your cheek, too afraid to make contact. “I wasted so much of my life being complacent. You were the one that taught me to be brave.” You nodded, eyes watery. “I’m sorry that I made you mad.”
“I’m not mad.” you said very unconvincingly, and both of you laughed. 
You wiped your eyes furiously, hands trembling.
“I really do love you, Sunghoon.” you said shakily, and he pulled you into his arms. You melted into his warm embrace, his arms circling your waist, holding you tight. Your touch felt so familiar, and for the first time since you left him, he felt whole again, basking in the glory of your presence. He couldn’t help but kiss you, his finger under your chin as he lifted your face to his, pressing his lips against yours eagerly.
You had forgotten all the things you adored about kissing Sunghoon. The way his hands always held you so tightly, how he always tasted like honey chapstick, and the way he smiled against your lips when you lost your hands in his hair. You were both sick with love, and you were only just beginning to realize that you didn’t need a cure.
“I love you.” he mumbled between kisses, unable to pull away. “I loved you from the start, even when everyone told me not to. Nothing could, and nothing can, stop the way I feel about you.”
“I love you, Sunghoon,” you said, your tears wetting both your face and his. “And I hate you for even considering otherwise.” he chuckled, tapping your nose with his index finger.
“Well, my reputation’s never been worse,” you giggled at your own words being used against you, as he spun you around in his arms. “So you must like me for me.” You pressed a chaste kiss onto his lips with a glowing smile.
“Mm, you’re lucky that I do.”
☆☆☆
1K notes · View notes
osarina · 7 months ago
Text
ᡣ𐭩 HE'S THE SERPENTINE, HE'S MY COLLAR!
FEATURING: dazai osamu
SUMMARY: you're finally back in yokohama after spending three years abroad dealing with mori's foreign business. the last person you want is to see dazai osamu, the wounds of his abrupt betrayal still too fresh for comfort. unfortunately, he decides to take matters into his own hands by showing up at your office in the middle of the night.
(wordcount: 7.1k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, f!receiving oral, gunplay, knife play (ish), spitting, pussy drunk!dazai (as always), light choking, overstim, office sex, semi-public/public sex, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing!)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys. GUYS. i had so much fun writing this, this is finally usurping in paper rings and picture frames as my fav fic that i've written. HAHAHH. i hope you guys like it too!!
You hear the door to your office swing open, and you press your lips together tightly, irritation swimming through your head as your grip tightens on the pen you’re using to fill out your paperwork. It’s already late—you’re tired and your head hurts, but you can’t leave the building until Akutagawa comes to hand you the report for his failed mission so you can pass it up to the boss. And you know that whichever subordinate this is, it’s definitely not Akutagawa because the boy would rather claw his own throat out than walk into your office without knocking. 
Which means it’s some upstart new recruit who has no manners and is likely going to make your night worse. You think being away for so long did some real damage to your reputation—three years ago, the lower ranked mafiosos avoided your floor like the plague, they didn’t barge in like they owned the place, but then again, you also had a certain dark-haired executive (ex-executive now, you remind yourself bitterly) lurking around your floor constantly trying to get your attention, and if people weren’t nervous enough about you, they were definitely terrified of him.
“Five seconds to explain why you came into my office without knocking or I’m putting a bullet through your fucking skull,” you say, voice acerbic, not even bothering to look up, the fingers of your free hand closing around the gun you have holstered at your side. 
“There’s a few too many cameras in the hall for my liking to stand out there and wait for you to open the door.”
The fact that he manages to dodge the bullet shot in his direction is testament to his skill, but you’ve known Dazai Osamu long enough to know that when he dodges to the side, nine times out of ten, he dodges left, so you drop your pen as soon as you pull the trigger and swipe the knife laying haphazardly on your desk, launching it in his direction. You watch as his eyes widen just a bit when it impales the wall right next to his ear, just barely nicking his skin—both a warning and a threat.
“My, my, bella, you’ve gotten faster the past few years,” Dazai grins, unperturbed, smile as reckless and lazy as the day he left four years ago as he plucks the knife from the wall. “I’ve missed you too.”
“What the hell are you doing here, Dazai?” you ask, voice cold and sharp as your finger rests against the trigger of your gun. “How did you get up here?”
“Security’s gotten lax since I’ve been gone, I guess,” Dazai shrugs, but his eyes dance with mirth as he makes his way over to your desk. “You should probably do something about that.”
“Dazai,” you say, keeping your voice low and trying to reign in your temper. There are no cameras in your office, but the hall leading here is littered with them, hidden ones that were recently installed that he wouldn’t know about, if any one of them caught his face and it’s reported to Mori… “You think I won’t drag your ass to Mori myself? What the fuck are you doing?”
You’d have to, or it would be your head on the line for betraying the Port Mafia—you know better than anyone the treatment that traitors get, considering you were the one that dealt with them up until you were sent abroad three years ago to handle Mori’s foreign politics. 
“I don’t know, will you?” Dazai counters, head tilted to the side as he takes a seat on top of your desk next to you, a smile on his face that makes you think he knows something that you don’t.
“Maybe,” you answer, finger twitching on the trigger as you keep your gun pointed in his direction. 
Dazai is completely unbothered, leaning down until his nose is nearly brushing yours, lips tugged up in an unbearable smirk. 
“Then do it,” he challenges, and you glare at him, jaw tight and eyes hard. He reaches out, fingertips brushing your skin, and you feel like you’re on fire beneath his touch. You hate that your body still betrays you to him. “Don’t look at me like that, bella. I won’t even resist, I promise, as long as you promise to be the one to put a bullet through my skull, so your face can be the last thing I see. Ah, that would be a lovely death, wouldn’t it?” 
“You’re a fucking freak, Dazai,” you spit out, but make no move to get up or grab your phone. “What is wrong with you?”
Dazai doesn’t respond, only winking at you. Instead, his gaze shifts to the side and his hand drops from your face to his lap again. You hate even more that you miss his touch immediately. 
“You still have my couch,” Dazai notes to himself quietly, an odd tone to his voice as he stares at the dark couch in the far corner of your office, where he’d bundle himself up under blankets to avoid Chuuya, because Chuuya used to avoid your office like the plague when the three of you were younger.
“It’s my couch,” you say tightly, even though you know no one has touched it since Dazai left, and the ugly orange blanket he liked so much is still draped over the back of it, and it probably still smells like him. Your throat feels swollen, and you steel away your emotions and continue with, “I’ve hardly been back here since you left, anyway. What do you want, Dazai?”
“I heard you were finally back in Yokohama,” he says. “I wanted to see you.”
“Fuck off,” you say roughly. “So you decide to break into the main base of the Port Mafia and come all the way up to my office? You know where my apartment is, you could’ve shown up there. What do you really want?” 
“It’s the truth,” Dazai says easily, and his dark eyes meet yours—both of them, you note, and wonder when he decided to shed the bandages that covered his right eye. “I was at your apartment for a bit, I got impatient and came here instead.”
He’s telling the truth.
Oh, you realize—the clogged feeling in your throat is coming back, you force it away again and lean back in your chair, looking away from him to turn your gaze to the window. It’s well past midnight already, the moon is high in the sky and the stars are glittering above. In the distance, you can see the Ferris Wheel of Cosmo World glowing a bright purple color and a string of flashing red and blue lights as the police chase after someone.
“Why?” you ask finally, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the two of you. 
“I told you,” Dazai says quietly, and your eyes turn back to him. He looks… happier, you can’t help but note. A sick part of you feels jealous—you’re not sure if you’re jealous because he’s free and you’re still stuck in this place, or if you’re jealous because he’s happier and he’s happier in a life without you. You think it might be the latter. “I miss you.”
“Don’t give me bullshit, Dazai,” you snap, still trying to push away all of the feelings you’ve repressed for so long. “Get out of here before you find yourself killed. I’m not going to turn you in, but I’m not saving you if you get caught.”
“It’s not bullshit,” Dazai tells you, voice sharp in a way that it only ever is when he’s starting to get annoyed. “I-”
A knock at your door cuts Dazai off mid-sentence. Both of you freeze, Dazai looks at you as if waiting to see what you’re going to do, and you can so easily finish this now, let whoever is at your door in and drag Dazai back down to the torture room where he belongs, but instead you find yourself reaching for him. Your hand intertwines with his hair roughly, and you revel a bit in the hiss that escapes his lips as you yank him off the desk and roll your chair backward, kicking the back of his knee so that he crumples to the ground and you can push him beneath your desk. 
You lower your gun to your lap so you can keep it pointed at him and then glance down at him—he looks caught off-guard and disgruntled at being manhandled, but you think it's a bit funny how cramped he looks under there. 
“Not a single word,” you warn before fixing your chair and raising your voice. “Come in.”
Akutagawa wastes no time stepping into your office, nodding his head in respect as he makes his way over to the chair on the opposite side of your desk, a bundle of papers in hand. He doesn’t hand you the pile right away and he looks uncharacteristically nervous, and you raise your eyebrows, wondering what the issue is. 
“I am… unsure how to fill out some of the report,” Akutagawa says, unable to meet your eyes as he stares at the windows behind you. “The operation was… not a failure but not a success. The whole mission was in disarray, I do not know who was doing what at certain points.”
You stare at Akutagawa. “What do you want me to say to that?” you ask him, leaning back in your chair. “It’s your job to know that as the field officer for the mission. If you can’t handle that, Hirotsu will take back the position on the next major operation.”
Akutagawa bristles. “I can handle it,” he says, voice clipped. “This mission was just more chaotic than-”
“Than usual?” you ask idly, watching as he stiffens as your interruption. “This was child’s play, it’s unlike you to make excuses, Akutagawa.’
“I’m not making excuses,” he says immediately, “but…”
Akutagawa continues talking, but your attention is ripped away when you feel Dazai shift beneath the desk. You press your lips together tightly, stiffening as his hands rise to your thighs, spreading them a bit so he can settle between them. You glance down, he’s already peeking up at you, dark eyes glittering in a way that has you on edge. 
Don’t you dare, you warn silently, but Dazai only takes it as further encouragement, pressing his lips to your clothed inner thigh, you can feel the warmth and wetness through your slacks. It takes all of your self-control to not inhale sharply when he starts trailing open-mouthed kisses up your thigh until his mouth is hovering right above your cunt. 
You press the muzzle of your gun against his temple. 
He smiles. 
Your jaw clenches as he licks a long stripe between your legs through your slacks, making sure to press his tongue down hard over where your clit is hidden through your clothes. Akutagawa is still talking, oblivious to what’s happening beneath your desk as he airs his complaints about the mission. You could stop Dazai, place your foot on his shoulder and push him off of you, but you don’t, notably—you don’t want to acknowledge that though. You only vaguely hear Akutagawa’s issues, something about interference from a third party—the SDUP? What the hell were they doing there?— and Kajii blowing up an escape route. 
“Give me the report,” you say, cutting him off mid-sentence, and holding out your hand. You’re grateful that your voice comes out steadier than you feel with Dazai trying to tongue fuck your through your pants. 
As you lean forward to rip the papers from Akutagawa, you tense, feeling something sharp press against your inner thigh. Sitting back in your seat and glancing down, your eyes cut down to Dazai, who still has the knife you’d thrown at him and is using it to cut open your very expensive slacks.
You have half a mind to drive your foot into his face, but you refrain. If only barely.
It’s a miracle that you can keep your breath steady, because as Dazai cuts your pants, he kisses every inch of open skin that’s revealed to him. His lips are warm, wet, familiar—so familiar that your legs are instinctively spreading for him, giving him more room to work.
Your eyes scan the report but the words are just jumbled letters and not making any sense. Every time you try to understand, you feel Dazai’s teeth graze your thigh as he marks up your skin. You tense when you feel him bring the knife much closer to your cunt, to finish cutting off the material—you press the muzzle of your gun harder into the side of his head, warning him to be careful. You glance down only to see a hazy smile on his lips as he winks up at you, as if he’s drunk just off of the idea of what’s about to happen.
He works efficiently as always, freeing your lower body of your slacks and panties as quickly as possible, and he wastes no time burying his face between your legs. Your lashes flutter and the grip you have on your pen tightens dangerously, you think it might snap. Dazai’s tongue slides between your folds, lapping up the slick that had begun to pool—you know that if Akutagawa wasn’t sitting a few feet away, Dazai would be making a snide comment about how he knew you wanted him.
Dazai’s tongue flicks over your clit—you can feel him staring up at you, watching for every little reaction, the way your lip tightens as you bite back moans, the way your eyelids unconsciously start to slide shut, the way your breath is just a bit heavier than it usually is. 
This is so dangerous, you think to yourself desperately. If Akutagawa of all people figures out that Dazai is here-
You nearly choke when Dazai shifts a bit underneath the desk to kneel at a better angle, grateful that Akutagawa seems to be too busy wallowing in his own mistakes to notice your struggle. Your gaze  snaps down again, his eyes have fluttered shut as he buries his face deep into your cunt, nose pressed to your clit as he pushes his tongue into your hole and you can feel the way he lets out a silent, but shaky breath, barely holding back a moan.
You notice his free hand slide from where it was propped on your thigh down to his beige pants, fingers fumbling with the button as he desperately tries to slip his hand beneath his waistband to touch himself. You kick his wrist hard, using your foot to pin it against the side of your desk, watching him wince and withdraw his hand, looking up at you with those big brown eyes you can never say no to. 
God, he’s pathetic, his lashes are wet and his cheeks are flushed, eyes glossed over with pleasure as he looks up at you and you know you’ll let go of his wrist if he looks at you like that any longer, so you turn your gaze back up to Akutagawa, who’s staring at his lap and waiting for you to finish the report.
“Get out,” you tell him, voice sharper than you intended. Akutagawa’s eyes snap up to you, brows furrowed in confusion. “Go, I’ll handle this.”
“But-”
“Your job is to take orders, not question them,” you bite out, watching frustration flash across the boy’s face as he rises to his feet. You’re not usually this harsh with the kid, but you’re not sure how much longer you’re going to last and Akutagawa cannot be in here when you cum. You can feel the heat pooling in your stomach and that familiar hazy feeling clouding your mind. “Out, Akutagawa.”
Akutagawa inhales sharply but nods, turning stiffly on his heel to leave your office. As soon as the door to your office clicks shut, Dazai is pushing the chair backwards until the back of it hits the windows behind you, shifting into a more comfortable position as he resumes fucking you with his tongue in earnest. 
He moans into you, wanton and shameless, any restraint he had because of Akutagawa’s presence is long gone. While he was careful to not make noise before, now the sloppy sound of his tongue dragging in and out of your cunt drowns out any other noise in your office, he sucks and slurps, he’s so disgusting, like he can’t get enough of the taste of you, a man who’s been starved for years.
The knife clatters to the ground as he reaches up with both hands to grab your thighs, sliding them over his shoulders so he can push his tongue even deeper inside of you. Only sheer pride drives you to push away the creeping fog as Dazai’s tongue slides back up between your folds to draw figure eights around your clit.
“I should pull the fucking trigger, pulling this shit when he was in here,” you spit out, head falling back as a breathy noise escapes your parted lips when Dazai sucks gently at your clit. He moans again, as if the idea itself turns him on—it probably does, he’s always talked about wanting to die between your thighs. “You’re a fucking freak, Dazai.” 
He lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it's a laugh or another moan, maybe a mixture of both, but he’s too focused on drowning in your cunt to respond. Four years without him and you’ve forgotten just how good Dazai is with his tongue, working your body as easily as he did when the two of you were eighteen and seeking each other out before meetings and between missions for a quick fuck. You hate it—you hate that he’s treating you as if nothing has changed and you hate even more that your body is this responsive to him. 
Betrayal, you think, your own body betrays you for him. Again.
“Fuck,” you gasp the word out when Dazai rolls your clit between his teeth gently, sending a jolt through your body that throws you off just enough for that fog you’ve been fighting off to finally win. You choke over a moan, head pressed back against your desk chair, forearm coming up to press against your forehead as your eyes slide shut. Your free hand finally finds its place in his hair, tightening around his dark locks, he lets out a whimper against you, tongue flicking over your clit. “Like that. Just like that.”
You can hardly keep your head on straight as he traces letters around the sensitive bud, you try to figure out what he’s spelling but you’re too far gone. Your head is light and your chest is heaving. You’re barely able to bite back moans as your thighs tighten around his head, hips rocking against his face. You don’t even know if he can breathe, you don’t think you care, so close to the edge that your entire body is tingling and trembling; you don’t think he cares either from the way he’s moaning into you.
It takes one last suck, one last swirl around your clit, and you’re crying out his name, spots dotting your vision as your grip on his hair tightens, pushing his face impossibly deeper into you as you grind your hips against his face. God, it feels never-ending, a noise too close to a sob nearly escapes your lips as Dazai ardently laps up all of your cum, not letting a single drop go to waste. You can’t remember the last time you’ve cum this hard—with him, probably, you realize bitterly. None of the one-night stands you’ve had over the past few years have ever compared to him.
You’re still reeling even as you force yourself to straighten in your seat, not willing to let him know just how badly you’re thrown off by how intense your orgasm was. Your head is still spinning, vision still blurring, but you lift your leg and press your foot to Dazai’s shoulder, kicking him back and forcing him out from his position between your thighs. 
He grunts, looking thoroughly disgruntled as he falls back on his ass, pouting up at you as he tries to catch his breath. He looks debauched, lips swollen and wet, your cum smeared on the lower half of his face. His cock is straining against his beige pants and his eyes are still glazed over; he’s looking up at you with an expression that’s nothing short of reverent. 
God, he’s gorgeous. 
You hate him. 
You’ve missed him. 
You shift in your seat and Dazai is lifting himself to his knees, immediately leaning closer, a hazy smile on his lips as he angles his face up and pointedly parts his lips, sticking his tongue out. You know what he wants and the heat that had been slowly dissipating returns with a vengeance, breath catching as you look down at him.
“You’re gross,” you tell him, watching the corner of his lips quirk up even as he keeps his tongue out and waiting.
You don’t deny him. You never can. 
You shift forward, rising to your feet and reaching out to grab his chin, angling your face down. Your grip is too tight, it’ll leave bruises behind and you think that’s the least he deserves so you only tighten it a bit more as you lean over him. You don’t give him what he wants, not right away, letting the saliva gather on your tongue as you observe him, the way his pupils are blown wide and his chest is hardly rising and falling, as if he can’t even let himself breathe in anticipation.
Disgusting, you think again, but it’s fond this time, much to your displeasure.
You decide to put him out of his misery, letting the spit dribble from your mouth down to his. His eyes roll back as soon as it hits his tongue, and your hand slides from his chin to curl around his neck—not tight, just firm enough to feel the way his throat bobs as he swallows.
He lets out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering back open as he looks up at you, entirely blissed out. Your hand slides down more, curling around the ugly bolo tie he’s wearing in place of the black one you’re used to. You tug it hard, beckoning him to his feet; he acquiesces, albeit on shaky legs. 
Immediately, his hands find your hips as he pushes you against your desk, spinning you around to face it before his hand presses between your shoulder blades, pushing you down to bend you over it. Your eyes widen at the sudden change in demeanor, something you’ll never be able to get used to no matter how many times you fuck him; it always caught you off guard back then, it still catches you off guard now. He pulls off the remnants of your destroyed slacks and immediately is grinding his bulge against your ass, a low moan spilling from his lips. 
“How many people have you been with?” he suddenly asks, and you can hear him fumbling to unbutton his own pants. There’s an edge to his voice that you don’t like—something caught between jealousy and possessiveness, and you nearly want to scoff at it.
“What the fuck, Dazai?” you spit out, appalled and not expecting the question. “None of your damn business.” 
You turn your head to the side to rest your cheek on the desk, looking back at him from the corner of your eye. His eyes are still a bit hazy but there’s a tight expression on his face, reminiscent of the one that would be directed toward you whenever he stumbled in on you entertaining anyone other than him years ago. 
“Humor me,” he says, voice cold and eerily familiar. If you weren’t looking at him and if you couldn’t see the tan coat and bolo tie, you’d think you were talking to Dazai Osamu, Port Mafia Executive, and not Dazai Osamu, Detective. 
“A lot,” you finally tell him, feeling the way he stiffens behind you. “I don’t keep count. You?” 
You think he has some nerve asking when he’s probably slept around t-
“None.”
“Bullshit,” you snarl immediately. “How many? Don’t fucking lie to me, Dazai.”
“None,” he says again, gaze lifting from your back to meet yours, his eyes are dark—too dark, too still. Maybe he hasn’t changed as much as you assumed, because the way your chest swells with a confusing mixture of fear and arousal is far too familiar. “You’re the only one allowed to touch me.”
His gaze drags back down, with his pants unbuttoned, he lifts his free hand to caress the swell of your ass, a contemplative expression on his face as he stares down at you, his other hand still pinning you down to your desk. If your heart wasn’t thudding in your ears from sheer anticipation, you’d be irate over the fact that you were letting Dazai Osamu fuck you over your own desk in your own office, but you can’t bring yourself to care now.
“They never made you feel like this.” It’s a statement, not a question, and you want to scoff at his arrogance, but you can’t because he’s right. “They don’t know your body like I do.”
This time you do scoff. “You don’t know shit, Dazai. It’s been four years.”
Dazai’s eyes flicker back up to you, the way his lips curve up into a smile is dangerous.
“No?” he questions. 
A challenge. You never back down from one, not from him. 
“No.”
His smile sharpens.
“I know that after you cum for the first time,” he murmurs, rolling his hips forward. You bite back a moan when you feel the tip of his cock slip between your folds. “The second time comes right after.”
True to his words, your jaw falls slack and your entire body seizes as Dazai thrusts into you, splitting you right open on his cock. The moan he lets out is pornographic, and you wish you could see the way his head falls back and his eyes roll into his skull, but your own vision is white and you’re choking over a sob as you feel the familiar stretch of his cock against your walls.
“There you are.” Dazai has the nerve to let out a breathless laugh and another groan as he stills with his hips flush to your ass, feeling your walls spasm around him as you cum just from the feeling of him pushing inside of you. The hand he has placed between your shoulder blades slides up to curl around your throat. With a firm grip, he pulls you up so only your thighs are pressed against the edge of your desk, back flush to his chest as you gasp, reeling from the suddenness of your second orgasm. You can feel him smile as he nudges his nose against the side of your head, lips pressed to your ear. “The third time takes a bit after the second, but I’ll fuck you through it. Maybe a fourth too.”
“Dazai,” you gasp, eyes blown wide as your head falls back against his shoulder. You don’t know what you’re trying to say, maybe hold on, or wait, because you know you’ll embarrass yourself if he doesn’t give you a second to recover.
He hums in response, and the slow rolls of his hips, the drag of his cock against your walls, it has your head in the clouds, body trembling. Your lips part to speak but no words leave them, and right when you think you can finally force the words out, Dazai draws his hips back and snaps them back against yours hard. Your lips part in a silent moan, only the hand around your throat and the one pressed to your lower belly holds you up as Dazai fucks you at a brutal pace. 
His face drops to the crook of your neck, he moans into your skin, teeth scraping hard as he kisses recklessly up and down every available inch. He’s going to leave marks, you realize, and that’s dangerous now that you’re back in Yokohama because you don’t need any of the other executives to get suspicious, but even if you wanted to tell him not to, you don’t think you’d be able to. Whatever little coherency you had left in your thought process does not translate when you try to speak, the only things leaving your lips being shaky moans and gasps of Dazai’s name.
“Made for me,” Dazai groans. His grip on your throat tightens just enough to make the air you breathe in shallow, your head feels light and you’re not sure if it’s because of his grip or if it’s the feeling of his cock bullying so deep into you that you can feel his tip pressing up against your cervix. “Waited so many years for this, feels even better than I remember, pussy’s made for me, isn’t it?”
Dazai babbles into your ear as he fucks you, tongue just as filthy and unbridled as the day he left. Shameless. He’s so shameless. Doesn’t even care that anyone could walk into your office and catch the two of you; doesn’t care that if anyone does, he’ll end up executed. He’s fucking you in a building full of people that want him dead and all he cares about is how your cunt feels wrapped around his cock.
Your breath hitches as Dazai shifts you to bend over just a little more, still keeping your back flush to his chest but fucking you at a new angle—one that nearly sends you spiraling over the edge for a third time. 
“Gonna give me your third now?” he pants. His hand on your lower stomach slips down, lithe fingers dipping between your folds to search for your clit—your back arches against him when he finds it, a sob spilling from your lips, vision swimming with tears. Dazai laughs again, this one is strained, catching over a moan as your walls convulse around him. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, you’re so tight.” 
Unconsciously, his grip on your throat tightens, cutting off even more air. You can hardly breathe, you can hardly think—each thrust of his hips has your head spinning, ripping the little air you can inhale right out of your lungs. The tip of his cock rubs against that spongy spot inside of you every time he snaps his hips against yours, the quick circles he rubs on your clit are electrifying. 
Your cheeks are wet, breath ragged, vision spotty. One last thrust, one last circle, and you’re wrecked, sobbing out his name as your legs give out, only held up by the way he has your thighs pinned to your desk and his hand on your neck. You cum all over his cock so hard that you think you black out for a second, your mind fuzzy and pins and needles pricking all over your body.
Dazai doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your third orgasm, relishing in the way your body twitches and trembles, too sensitive for his touch. 
“Your fourth will come quick,” he gasps. His pace is erratic now, chasing his own release. Your ears are ringing, heartbeat thudding in your ears, the wet, sloppy sound of his cock driving in and out of you resounding through your office. “I don’t think I’ll last for five. Shit, shit, I’m close.”
You have to force yourself to move. You want to see him when he finishes. Your hand wraps around his wrist, nails digging into his skin to try to get his attention. It takes all of your will power to push the two words from your lips: “Flip me.”
He does. Without any sort of hesitation, his hand drops from your throat to your waist. His cock slips out of you for a split second and your cunt aches at the loss, but Dazai is immediately pushing himself back into you as he hoists you up by the thighs, sitting you down on your desk and wrapping your legs around his waist. 
Even through your blurry vision, Dazai is a fucking sight. His dark hair is matted to his forehead, pink lips swollen and wet, cheeks flushed. His eyes glazed over and half rolled back as he chases his high. God, he’s stunning. You’ve missed him. You’ve missed him.
You’re not thinking as you lift your hand to cup his cheek, sliding around to the back of his head to pull his face down to yours, moving on pure instinct. You drag him down to press your lips against his and Dazai is gone. The moment your lips touch his, he’s moaning into your mouth, hips stuttering against you as he spills his cum deep inside of you, and he’s right, because the moment you feel his cum filling you up, warm and thick, so much of it that you can feel it dribbling around his cock, the stickiness smearing against your thighs and ruining your desk, you’re pushed over the edge for the fourth time.
This one is weaker than the rest, not a single noise escapes you but your jaw goes slack and Dazai whimpers into your mouth when he feels your walls tightening around him again. But he takes advantage of your pliancy, pushing you back gently so that your back is flush to your desk. He follows you down, keeping his chest pressed to yours as he maps out your mouth with his tongue. He rolls his hips against yours, slow and deep, fucking his cum deeper into you as the two of you slowly come down from your highs. He slants his lips against yours to deepen the kiss, hand coming up to cup your cheek, his other sliding up and down one of your thighs. 
It’s too intimate. You tell yourself that you only let it happen because you’re reeling from overstimulation but you know it's a lie.
You don’t even know how long you stay in that position with him. It could only be a few seconds, a few minutes, it could’ve been an hour for all you know, laying on your desk with him pressed on top of you, kissing you so passionately that it makes your head spin as much as the orgasms did. 
Finally, you press your hand against his shoulder, signaling for him to get off of you. He does, albeit with a reluctant sigh. You stare up at the ceiling as Dazai shakily rebuttons his pants, making his way over to the closet where you still keep your spare clothes from when you have to stay over at the office to work. 
What did you do?
You’re hyper aware of how swollen your lips are, of the marks littering your neck, of the cum dribbling out of your cunt, staining your desk. 
If anyone finds out about this-
You don’t get to finish the thought, because Dazai comes back over to you. Neither of you speak as he takes a tissue to clean up his cum from your thighs and as it dribbles out of you, nor do you speak when he shifts you into a sitting position, helping you pull on a new pair of panties and a new pair of slacks.
He stands in front of you, dozens of indecipherable emotions rocketing across his face as his dark eyes search your expression for something. You don’t know what, and you don’t even want to look at him but you can’t draw your gaze away from him.
After what feels like forever, he finally speaks.
“I missed you,” he says, voice hoarse as he lifts a hand to cup your cheek. 
You turn away from his touch, ignoring the hurt that flashes through his eyes. 
“Why don’t you believe me? You think four years has changed how I feel about you? I thought you knew me better than that.”
“It’s been four years,” you say, and you hate that your voice wavers a bit. You blame it on still being hazy after your orgasm but you know it’s a weak excuse. You hate that he still has this effect on you after all these years. You hate that you always give into him, and you hate that you know you’ll never get enough of him. You want to hate him, but you can’t. “Knowing how to fuck me isn’t the same as knowing me as a person. I barely know you anymore. You barely know me. And it’s not like you were open with how you felt four years ago. So, forgive me if it’s a bit hard to believe, Dazai.”
“You wear the same perfume. You still shoot with your non-dominant hand for some god forsaken reason. Your lips still twitch whenever you get annoyed even though you do your best to stop it. You-”
“Stop.”
“You still talk to me like you hate me even though your eyes are all soft and you’re leaning in toward me.” Dazai doesn’t stop, and to your horror, he’s right—you had begun to lean in to him instinctively as he spoke. You try to shift away from him, but he follows, fingers grazing your cheek, chest brushing yours. You don’t pull away this time. “I still wear the same cologne you bought me for Christmas because it reminds me of you—I spent two months trying to figure out where you bought it when it first ran out. I don’t carry a gun around as often, but when I do, I still try to do that stupid flipping trick you tried to teach me when we were seventeen—I still can’t do it, almost shot myself in the knee last time I tried.”
The laugh he lets out at the last sentence is hollow. He hesitates, as if he wants to continue but isn’t sure if he should. You can feel his blunt nails scraping gently against your skin, his palm warm against your cheek. You want to pull away but you’ve missed him, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, and you find yourself sinking into his touch. You’ve always questioned why Mori sent you away for so long, angry because you figured he thought you were weak when it comes to Dazai and he didn’t want to risk anything. 
Only a few days back in Yokohama, and you’re already proving him right.
“I’m not the same person,” you tell him, something desperate edges at your tone. Desperate to convince him, or yourself, you’re not sure.
“I still love you,” he rasps, voice quiet as if he’s scared to admit it even to himself, and your heart is suddenly lodged in your throat as you stare up at him with wide eyes, the words he refused to tell you back when you were teens ringing through your head over and over again. “I’ve always loved you. Thought about you every day. I missed you so much.”
“I should hate you,” you say, swallowing thickly, unshed tears blurring your vision. “You didn’t even say goodbye. When Mori said you defected in the middle of a mission, I laughed in his face. Not because I didn’t think you’d never betray the Port Mafia, but because I didn’t think you’d ever leave me without saying anything.”
“If I said goodbye to you, I never would have left,” Dazai tells you quietly, the admission echoing in your years. “And I had to leave. I had to.”
“I should hate you,” you repeat, voice a bit weaker now, and you feel pathetic for falling apart like this in front of him. But it’s Dazai, he’s always had this effect over you. You suppose some things haven’t changed, because that certainly hasn’t. 
“I know,” he murmurs. 
You inhale deeply, shaking your head as you push yourself off your desk and straighten out your clothes, trying to get your head back on straight. You should’ve known better than to think you’d be able to come back to Yokohama and pretend that Dazai Osamu didn’t exist, for better or for worse, the two of you would always find your way back to each other. Mori was right to send you away, although you suppose the man is rarely wrong anyway.
Dazai doesn’t say anything, watching you with an unreadable expression as you search through the ruined piles of paper on your desk for the report that Akutagawa had handed you. Your eye twitches when you realize that it’s stained, realizing that you’re going to have to rewrite the whole thing because you can’t submit a cum-stained report to Mori.
Dazai snorts behind you, as if realizing your predicament. The look you give him is lethal, he silences himself quickly. 
“Don’t get yourself killed on the way out,” you tell him, grabbing your black jacket off your chair and swinging it over your shoulders as you look back at him. “If you make it out of here alive, I’ll see you at my apartment later. Then we can talk.”
His face twists. “What? Wait, don’t leave me here,” he panics, nearly tripping over his feet and your desk chair to follow after you. “Help me sneak out.”
“You got in here yourself,” you say dismissively. “Get out yourself.”
The noise he lets out is pathetic. “You do hate me,” he accuses. 
“No, I could never,” you admit quietly. His expression softens a bit, but you give him a sharp smile. “But I’m definitely not going to make things easy for you. Akutagawa is still out here prowling around. So is Chuuya, actually. Said he’d be at the office all night today. Good luck, you’re gonna need it.”
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egcdeath · 5 months ago
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off the beaten path
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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.
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iholdwhatican · 6 months ago
Text
reunions
pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig
read part 2 here!
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length: 3.8k
tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; surprise visit from patrick ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension
summary: you want to make your husband's birthday special, so you invite his attractive, charming, estranged childhood best friend in the hopes that they'll make amends. surely nothing will go wrong, right?
author's note: i can't stop thinking about them i am so ill. this is the first of presumably many challengers works. and yes i did make a new blog just for this, don't judge me. this is a drabble that was stuck in my head but I do have more for it should it be wanted! preferably something that leaves you sandwiched in between them :3
originally posted by iholdwhatican
You told yourself this whole thing happened out of the goodness of your heart. You’d just wanted to be a good wife and make your husband’s birthday the best it could possibly be. Because Art Donaldson was the most amazing person you’d ever known, and he loved you, and he deserved the world. There was nothing off limits when it came to him, no line you wouldn’t cross. 
You knew how much Patrick had meant to him, how much he missed his best friend. Your cheeks hurt from how wide the stories made you smile, how happy he sounded when he recounted the things he’d gotten into with the eccentric tennis player. And you knew how sad Art was that they didn’t talk anymore. 
So what better time to remedy that than for his birthday? That was a wonderful surprise, right? Right?
Upon meeting Patrick Zweig, your first thought was how the hell this man got along so well with your Art. Not to say he was a bad person, but he was just so… much. He was cocky, indomitable, the kind of person that knew what he wanted and what he was worth and wouldn’t settle for anything less. He was a force not to be reckoned with, no matter what. He was also unbelievably charming (and not bad on the eyes, which you would never admit), and you hated the way his sweet-talking got under your skin. 
He asked you how Art was. You told him he was fine. Retired, now. Making the most of a quiet life. You’d just celebrated 3 years of married life. He asked to see wedding photos and you didn’t miss the sadness in his eyes at missing the event. You happily obliged. It was the most romantic day of your life, after all. 
And you couldn’t help but internally pat yourself on the back. Patrick missed him too. You could mend the broken bridge between them, and your husband would be thrilled. He’d reward you for your good work. 
You asked Patrick to come to Art’s party. To make contact again. To come back into his world. He only hesitated for a moment, asked if Art knew and was okay with it. 
The lie slipped off your tongue easily. Of course, he’s wanted this for a long time. It’s a surprise, but a most welcome one. You didn’t have details on what happened between them- only knew of a falling out while Art was in college- but it couldn’t be that bad. Anything could be overcome, right? 
Patrick accepted and you hoped the lump in your throat was from excitement and not dread. You thanked him for meeting you, told him you’d forward him the details, and went back to your husband. 
The day of the party came, and you were so nervous you could hardly take it. You’d spent the last couple of days working yourself into a frenzy, convinced that this reunion was a terrible idea and your husband would hate you. You had no right to bring an estranged friend back into his life, on his birthday no less. And without saying a word to him. 
God, what the hell was wrong with you? 
You gripped the edge of the kitchen counter and downed your third glass of water. It did nothing to soothe the dryness in your throat. Or the pounding of your heart. You wondered how fucked you’d be at the party if you took a Xanax right now. Or five. 
Just then, Art peeked his head into the kitchen, donning a sweet smile when he spotted you. He looked as handsome as ever, sporting a well-fitting polo shirt and khakis. His hair was growing out again, starting to show those boyish curls you’d fallen in love with all those years ago. He made his way over to you, wedding band sparkling on his finger, and your heart melted. 
You loved him so much. Had you ruined his birthday with your stupid meddling? Maybe even ruined your marriage? 
“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted, sliding a hand around your waist and kissing your head. It was a familiar gesture, a normal one. He loved touching you, keeping you close. You loved it just as much, “The cake was just delivered. You went way overboard, as usual.” 
You pretended you weren’t overcome with dread and cupped his cheek, “Shut up. There’s no such thing as overboard. You deserve this, okay? You deserve to be celebrated.” 
Please, please don’t be mad at me for inviting him. For bringing him into our world. Please still love me. I did it for you. I’d do anything for you.
His eyes crinkled as he smiled- in that perfect way you adored so much. He leaned down to kiss you again, this time on your lips. It was gentle and caring and everything you were to each other. It made you want to cry. Art was everything. All you wanted was to give him the same. 
The doorbell rang, breaking you two out of the moment, and your husband pulled away. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 
“Well,” He spoke, looking at you like there was nothing else in the world, “That must be our first guest.” 
You hummed happily, “Guess it’s time to celebrate you, Birthday Boy. Shall we?” 
“We shall.” He teased, doing a mock bow as he offered you his hand. You took it, laughing, and the two of you made your way to the front door. 
You took a deep breath and tried not to focus on the unhappy way your stomach was churning. 
The first hour of the party went by with a pleasant lack of reunions-turned-altercations. Patrick had yet to show his face, and you wondered if he might not come at all. Part of you was relieved at the idea, while the other couldn’t help but be frustrated. 
He said he would come. What if the surprise didn’t end up being a bad thing? How would you know if he never showed? 
God, you needed a cigarette. 
You’d spent the entirety of the party so far glued to Art’s side, being his doting wife as you made conversation with everyone. Your eyes continued to stray to the door, looking for a certain dark-haired man. Every single time, you were disappointed. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised. From what you’d heard, Patrick wasn’t really someone who could be counted on a lot. 
Maybe this whole thing was just a big mistake. And maybe the part of you that truly felt let down at not getting to see him again was something you should never, never look into. 
You patted Art’s chest and stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “I’m gonna check on the food. I’ll be back.” 
He nodded, smiled, and pressed a kiss to your temple. His arm released its grip on you and he continued his conversation with an old Stanford buddy without missing a beat. He was fucking incredible. At everything. You were crazy about him. 
The food didn’t actually need to be checked on. The caterer was high-quality, and they knew better than to fuck up one of your events for your husband. You had full trust in them- you honestly just needed a breather. This whole night had felt like a cold fist clenched around your heart. 
Instead, you grabbed yourself a large glass of wine and made your way to the patio to enjoy some cool night air. 
The area was blessedly empty, allowing you to slip out of the hostess facade. You were more than happy to do it, especially when celebrating Art, but the circumstances tonight were making it much harder than usual. Which was, of course, entirely your own fault. Way to go, you! Knocked it out of the park tonight, didn’t you? 
You sighed, leaned against the railing, and took a long gulp of your drink. The weather was slightly chilly, and it felt amazing against your heated skin. Already, you were finding it easier to breathe. And think, for that matter. 
“Shouldn’t you be at the party, Mrs. Donaldson?” A familiar, spine-tingling voice spoke, breaking you out of your peaceful moment. 
You whirled around, eyes landing on Patrick fucking Zweig leaning against the wall of your house. A lit cigarette hung from his lips, his hands nonchalantly tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans. They went well with the button-up shirt he wore, a stark contrast from the shorts and hoodie he’d had on when you first met. He looked good- really good. Enough to make a pit grow in your stomach. 
“I thought you weren’t coming.” You blurted out, thankful that the darkness was shrouding your red face. His face was just barely illuminated by the orange glow of the cigarette, and you watched as he looked you up and down, “Also, how’d you get back here? I didn’t see you walk into the house.” 
Patrick kicked off the wall and walked over to you, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth. His curls fell over his forehead, and you found yourself fighting the urge to brush them out of the way- the same way you always did to Art. You swallowed deeply. What the hell was wrong with you? 
“I told you I’d come, didn’t I?” He responded matter-of-factly, blowing a puff of smoke into the air. The smell made you nostalgic. You and Art had made a pact years ago to quit together, but God did you miss it sometimes. You licked your lips and tried (and failed) not to stare, “I snuck in through the back. Thought it’d be less messy that way.” 
You had no idea how he’d been able to get back here, but you decided you weren’t gonna ask. It didn’t matter in the long run, anyway. Besides, he was probably right. You had no idea how Art was gonna react, and it was smart to have it happen in an isolated area. 
“Probably smart.” You muttered, taking another swig of the wine. The feeling of his eyes stayed on you, burning into your skin, but you didn’t meet his gaze. You didn’t want to think too hard on why. 
“He doesn’t know you reached out to me.” It wasn’t a question, but you responded to Patrick’s words regardless. He’d find out eventually. 
“No.” The admittance came out with a heavy breath, like you were releasing the weight that had been on you all night. In a way, you were. You ran a hand over your forehead, “I don’t know what happened between you two, he doesn’t talk about it. But I just- I’m terrified he’ll hate me for bringing you.” 
Why the hell were you pouring your heart out to this stranger? What was it about him that drew you in so much and made you want to bring down your walls? How was this charming man already under your skin from one damn meeting? And how the fuck were you supposed to explain any of this to your husband, his estranged best friend? 
You needed another drink. Or ten. 
“You really love him.” Again, not a question. But you answered. You had to. 
“More than anything else in this world.” 
Patrick offered you his half-smoked cigarette and you took it without thinking. The sting of the smoke in your lungs was like coming home. It was so good it almost made you cry. But lots of things made you want to cry right now. You could taste mint on the cigarette, like he’d been chewing gum before lighting up. The same kind Art always chewed. 
It made something flip in your stomach. 
“Well, from what I can tell, you’re pretty great. Super caring, based on how far you went in an attempt to make him happy. Shit, you tracked me down, which is a feat in itself. And you’re gorgeous, obviously. I’m surmising that you’re basically the whole package.” He spoke calmly, as if every one of those words didn’t make your heart jump into your throat. You chugged your drink to use it as an excuse for your rosy cheeks, “So I don’t think there’s any way he could hate you. Even for inviting me here.” 
You were speechless for five long seconds as he took the cigarette back and inhaled. Then you finally got your brain to stop lagging, “You don’t even know me.” 
“I know enough.” He countered, continuing the pass back and forth of the cigarette, “And I know Art. He wouldn’t marry someone beneath him. The fucker somehow always gets the ones way out of his league.” 
You didn’t comment, but you knew what Patrick was referring to. Tashi Duncan. The now pro-tennis player that he’d had a thing with back in the day. You didn’t know the details, but you knew she was a point of contention between the two men. 
Honestly, you tried not to think about Tashi. She was gorgeous, super talented, and an overall seemingly great person. Art had passed up on that for you, and it got to your head a lot. You wondered if he regretted it. Or at least wondered what his life could’ve been like. 
You didn’t think you were out of his league. In fact, you thought the opposite. Not that you needed to tell Patrick that. Your insecurity and jealousy issues could stay yours alone. 
“Well, I don’t know about that.” You murmured.
The cigarette began to dim as you took the last drag, flicking it off the balcony and down into the grass below. With both the alcohol and nicotine gone, you started to think you probably needed to get back to the party. Your husband would be looking for you, and you didn’t want to keep him waiting. You just had to figure out how Patrick would fit into the equation. 
“If you weren’t taken, I’d be trying to charm the fuck out of you right now.” 
The statement caught you completely off guard. You looked over at him, eyes wide, and tried to keep your cool at the sexy smirk on his face. God, he was so fucking attractive. 
You blinked once, twice, a third time, “What?” 
His smile grew at your flustered state, “I have great taste in women, and I’d flirt with you if I could. So I’m saying you’re definitely a catch. And totally out of Art’s league.” 
You licked your lips. Subconsciously, “I’m pretty sure that was flirting.” 
“Was it?” He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed, “Oops.” 
You ran your finger over the rim of your wine glass, trying to think of something to say. You came up empty. You were married- to this man’s childhood best friend. To the love of your life. He shouldn’t be flirting with you. And you definitely shouldn’t be enjoying it. 
“There you are! I was starting to worry.” Art’s voice broke the tense silence, and you turned around to watch him making his way to you with a smile. Then he spotted Patrick and his smile dropped as his face filled with recognition, “You- what the hell are you doing here?” 
You opened your mouth to speak, to explain and mediate the situation, but the dark-haired man beat you to it. 
“Your pretty little wife invited me.” He said, which was probably the worst thing he probably could’ve chosen. You internally buried your face in your hands. 
Art’s jaw clenched and his eyes lit up. It took you a moment to realize that the expression was anger. Honestly, it took you by surprise. It was extremely rare to see him angry, and never was it directed at you. And though he was looking at Patrick, you were terrified that in this instance it was. 
“Let me explain.” You immediately choked out, clutching your empty wine glass like a lifeline, “I really just thought that-” 
“She thought you missed me and wanted us to reconnect. As a birthday surprise. Isn’t that sweet?” Patrick butted in, throwing an arm over your shoulders. Art looked ready to murder someone (probably the tennis player holding you), “I doubt it was easy contacting me, but she managed. All for you.” 
You laughed nervously, ducking your head, “Well, that’s not-” 
“Let go of her.” Art demanded. His voice was cold and dangerous. Possessive. It made something twitch in your core. Oh, you liked that. 
The brunette didn’t hesitate to do as he was told, holding his hands up in surrender, “My bad, man. I just feel like we’re already such close friends from hanging out together. Don’t you think so?” 
The last part was directed at you, and Patrick nudged you. You gave him an incredulous look. 
The charming, sweet man you’d just been talking to was gone. He was replaced by a cocky, near-disrespectful antagonist who was trying to egg your husband into some kind of altercation. And he was using you as the bait. 
You couldn’t lie that you were frustrated, but it did feel a bit nice to be in an almost tug-of-war between the two men. You liked being an object of affection or desire. 
“You should head inside, baby.” Art spoke to you, though his furious gaze never left Patrick, “Our guests will wonder where the hosts went. I’m gonna talk to Patrick for a minute.” 
You’d be damned if you told him no. Even though this situation felt like a mess that was definitely all your fault. Damn you for inviting Patrick. Damn him for being so captivating. And damn Art for loving you so much that the sight of another man touching you made him see red. This entire thing was like a whirlwind. 
“Okay…” You whispered, moving towards your husband and the house. You gave Patrick a small smile, hoping to convey your thoughts to him. Please don’t hurt him- he’s my world. Then you stopped at Art’s side and placed a hand on his bicep, “I’m sorry if this was a bad idea. I just wanted to make your birthday special, is all. I didn’t mean to fuck it up.” 
He finally looked at you, just long enough to give you a loving smile and a shake of his head, “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m so proud of you for doing all this for me. Don’t worry.” 
Then he kissed you, only to stop and pull away, “Is that- were you smoking with Patrick?” 
You sucked on your teeth and nodded, “Yes, a little. I’m sorry. I just-” 
But then he was kissing you again, hard and needy. Like he wanted to fuck you right then and there. Your face burned bright red, and you could feel Patrick’s eyes on the two of you. Art had never acted like this in all the time you knew him. But right now, within thirty seconds of being around his old friend, he was putting on a show to prove that you were his. 
You belonged to him. And he wanted Patrick to know it. 
You really, really fucking liked this. 
When he pulled away, you felt dizzy. From both the kiss and the wine you’d downed. You barely had time to take a breath before he was lightly patting your cheek and sending you inside. You managed to take a look at the two men before rejoining the party. They just stared at each other, like they were in a standoff. 
It was unbelievably hot. 
As you went back to your guests, lips still tingling, only one thought was coming to you. 
You wondered how long you could keep Patrick around, just to see what it would do to your precious husband. 
2K notes · View notes
lovelettersfromluna · 5 months ago
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Dream Girl
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Summary: Did you seriously think you’d be able to get over someone like Ellie Williams? Think again, dream girl.
an: I’m so obsessed with this series and the portrayal of Ellie, there’s just something about a small town romance that scratches the sweet spot in my brain. I hope you guys have enjoyed this one just as much as I have! Thank you so much for all of the support 🤍
Warnings: smut! MDNI!! 18+, tribbing (another tribbing fic by Luna?? Ofc do you not know me by now?), lots of kissing, sub!ellie if you squint, angst, mentions of another love interest, mentions of cheating, reader sucks Ellie’s fingers, pet names, unsure and closed off reader, pls lmk if I missed anything!
Read part 1 here!!
You watched from your bed as the gentle wind blew your lace curtains further into your bedroom, the birds chirping as the early morning sun slowly rose, cascading a warm glow into your room, making you squint your sore eyes with a soft groan.
With the slow rise of the sun came the constant reminder that you’d spent yet another night without catching a wink of sleep, lying there as you allowed your thoughts to carry you to places you wished didn’t exist.
Places of your ex wife, the bitter taste of your marriage still lingering on your tongue, reminding you of everything that could have been, everything that was lost due to lust.
Places of Ellie, the person who stole your heart first. You think of everything that could have changed had you not gone to the city, how your life's outcome would have had such a great shift due to one tiny change within the line of events that made up who you were, and what you did with your life.
It all leaves the whole in your heart feeling bigger, wider, swallowing up so much of the tiny organ that it almost felt there was nothing left of it.
It had been only a few days since the last time you saw Ellie, and the memories of that night still lingering in you brain, hanging heavily in your mind, stopping you from focusing on anything but that.
Because as much it felt good to kiss her, you haven't even been divorced for a year, and the conflicting feelings that you had for Ellie, paired with the newfound distrust and heartbreak that came from your recent marriage caused a storm in your head, heavy clouds swirling about in the confides of your mind and making it heard to think, hard to breath.
It was all just too fucking hard.
But you knew life was different now. You weren't a teenage girl that could run from confrontations for her own comfort. You were a grown up now, experiencing grown up situations that called for grown up reactions. So you knew that you needed to talk to Ellie, no matter how much it hurt to even think about facing her right now.
You weren’t even entirely sure where to start. Texting her was an absolute no, despite how much easier it would be to confront her that way, behind a screen would do a great job at cushioning the blow that came with confronting Ellie. Calling fell under the same category, she deserved much more than a measly phone call from your end with the intention of patching things up.
Which left only one option. You had to see her in person.
You sighed softly as you sat up in your bed, looking over at your phone resting face down on your bedside table. You hadn’t touched it since that night, avoiding the device all together in fear that you’d see any messages or calls from the worried girl.
So you aren’t surprised when you finally pick it up to see just that. Ellie didn’t pry, there were about three phone calls and four messages, all of which came across far too understanding and supportive for someone that had been kicked out mid make out session a few nights prior.
You inhale deeply before you open up your messages with her, and begin typing.
Hi
I’m sorry I haven’t responded.
Are you busy today? Can we meet up? I feel we need to talk
You practically hold your breath until she responds, which doesn’t take a very long time because the minute you send your first message, she’s read it and already typing out her message back.
Hey, don’t apologize. I was just worried about you
Ofc we can meet. Farmers market is opened today, you wanna check it out?
You don’t even realize it, but her messages are making you smile the second you read them out. Probably because of how easy Ellie makes things, how hard it is to make things awkward with someone as kind as she is.
That sounds great.
I’ll meet you there
Cool :)
Despite the small amount of anxiety that has alleviated when you’re finished texting her, you know this is only the beginning, the easy part of a conversation that will be much harder to have, much harder to explain when you aren’t even sure how to navigate your feelings as it is.
But there was no use in putting it off any further, so you’re quick to get out of bed, brush your teeth, haul on a pair of old blue jeans and an old band t-shirt and make your way out to your car to meet Ellie in town.
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It’s almost impossible to have a sour mood in a place as magical as your little town. The moment you got into your car, the warm sun soaking into your skin made you take a deep breath, allowing yourself to clear your head for a second before making your way out into town.
Your mom was right, the sun can cure more than you thought.
You hadn’t even realized it was Sunday, which meant it was your towns tradition to hold the farmers market in the town center. You used to look forward to it so much as a kid, knowing it would bring out the best of the people that lived here, showcasing the talent every person had.
Some people sold clothes that they made by hand, pieces that could only be made with love and care, something you often missed seeing in the city. Others sold jewelry, so delicately crafted it was almost unbelievable that someone was able to create something like it.
But your favorite? Was the food. Different pastries baked by the hands of men and women, recipes passed on from generation to generation to continue to breath life into the traditions that made up your town, tying one another together with a single cake or pie.
It was almost like magic.
You catch yourself smiling as you walk down the strip of stands already getting into their sales. Your heart warms at the sight of familiar faces, aged but still happy. You notice new ones as well, like when you approach a stand you remember being up when you were kid, one of which sold your favorite sweet rolls.
Your attention is far too occupied with chatting up the familiar curly haired girl at the stand, the same one that your visit when you were a teenager, eager to her mothers famous pastures. You’re surprised to see that there’s now a baby on her hip sporting the same head of spiral chocolate brown locks sprouting from her head, giggling and kicking excitedly as you introduce yourself, grabbing the babies hands as you catch your with her mom.
Ellie had arrived not long after you, standing nearby as she smiles fondly at the way the baby quickly becomes enamored with you. Watching you play with kids was something that always made her heart flutter with joy.
You giggle softly as she hands you both pastries, giving her a nod as she begs you to come visit her and the sweet baby more often. You hum softly as you struggle to push both your receipt and your phone back into your purse, groaning softly to yourself as you fail to notice the sudden looming presence that falls over the, gentle hands opening your bag wider as they aid you in putting everything away.
“Here, lemme help you” Ellie breaths out gently, her voice alone making you freeze as your eyes trail to her body to land on her face that was suddenly very close to yours.
She chuckles when she notices you staring up at her with wide eyes, nodding her head down to your bag.
“Come on now, would hate to make you drop those” she hums as she mentions the pastries in your other hand. You blink a few times before you clear your throat, giving a quick nod before you push your things into your bag with her help.
“Fuck…sorry…I…um…” you struggle to speak, adjusting your bag on your shoulders as you watch the girl step back with a soft smile.
“No worries, you alright?” She questions, neck craning down a bit to get a good look at you, her own big green eyes staring into yours, making it hard to breath.
God, this was going to be much harder than you thought.
You inhaled deeply, opening your mouth to speak before closing it, looking down at the sweet rolls in your hand before outstretching your arm to hand one to her.
“I bought this for you…I figured you hadn’t eaten yet so…” you mumble out softly, watching as she stared at you for a moment before looking down at the perfectly packaged baked good in your hand.
Her heart warming at the mere thought of you thinking of her in that way.
She smiles softly before she nods, placing her hand on the small of your back as she began guiding you out of the small strip of stands.
“So sweet of you…c’mon, there’s some places to sit right up this way” she suggests, giving you a small reassuring smile as she leads you there.
Somehow it seems perfect. The sun, the birds chirping, the little shady spot that Ellie leads you over to, covered by the biggest tree with the prettiest flowers slowly drifting down from above. It’s truly something out of a dream….
It made you wish this was all a dream.
You let out a soft sigh as you sit opposite of Ellie on the wooden bench, your fingers toying with the paper the pastry in front of you is wrapped in. Ellie frowns as she watches you closely, knowing the expression far too well. She could see just how much you were in your own head, how the events you two shared prior lingered in your mind, making it hard to focus on anything.
You couldn’t even look at her, and she hated that.
She inhaled deeply before she reached a hand out, gently placing it atop yours.
“I hope you didn’t bring me out here to apologize…because you don’t have to” her words are soft, and sweet, and it makes your throat get tight because she shouldn’t be so kind to you after what you did, after the way you treated her.
You don’t respond, so she takes the opportunity to keep talking.
“I get that things are probably hard…and I shouldn’t even have kissed you that night…so I’m sorry” she tries again, and you scoff softly before shaking your head.
“Don’t…don’t apologize” you mumble out before you inhale deeply, finally looking up, only not at her, at the scenery around you both.
“I caught her in our bed, with some girl she worked with” you mumble out softly, fingers mindlessly running along the rough surface of the wooden table.
“I probably should have seen it coming….but I think I wanted things to work out so badly that I just ignored it” you shrug slightly as you explain before you finally look over at Ellie, who’s already staring intently as she listens to you.
“Ellie I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, or to think that I’m using my divorce as an excuse for what I did, for what happened between us….but I just need you to know that I’m hurting, and it’s just….hard for me to open myself up to something like that again after what happened” your voice breaks as your emotions threaten to give you away, chin wobbling as tears pool in your eyes.
But you don’t let them flow free. You don’t want to cry anymore, not over this.
“I…I just need time….” You silently beg, beg for her to understand what it is you’re going through, what it is you’re experiencing.
It scares you when she doesn’t answer right away, her green eyes scanning your face as she takes it all in. It’s a lot, and you know that, but there’s a tiny part of you that begs for Ellie to do what she does best, which is tell you exactly what you need to hear.
She blinks a few times before giving you a nod, paired with a soft smile. “You don’t even have to ask….you know I’d understand no matter what”
You inhale deeply as you watch her, her gentle eyes, her soft smile telling you that all would be fine. It make your stomach churn because you feel like you don’t deserve it, you feel like she deserves so much more than what you’re giving her.
You two haven’t even addressed what actually happened that night.
There’s nothing more to do than to simply smile back at her. It’s weak, and it isn’t much, but it’s all you can mange right now.
Ellie smiles softly at you before she looks down at the rolls in front of you both. “As good of a baker that Mary Beth is….i think we need some real food” Ellie hums out softly before she swings her leg over the bench to get up, nodding her head towards a small diner nearby.
“Come on. Let’s get something to eat” she suggests, holding her hand out for yours.
She notices the way your eyes linger on her calloused hand, unsure of whether or not you should take it, unsure of what signals it would send if you did.
You were unsure of everything. Unsure of Ellie, yourself, your own feelings. Nothing felt solid enough to trust, and you hated that someone like Ellie could make you feel that way, even though you knew that it wasn’t her that was making you feel that way, but rather what happened to you instead.
She can see it, she can see right through you and for a moment her frown mimics yours before she it turns into a soft smile.
“As friends” she affirms gently.
She sees a flash of something ripple through your eyes at this when you finally look up at her, something she doesn’t want to read too much into, something that she knows she can’t dive into for your own comfort, and perhaps even hers too.
A moment passes before you crack a weak smile, placing your hand into hers before you nod. “Yeah…as friends” you manage to make out weakly before grabbing the things off the table, shoving them into your bag and leaning into Ellie’s warmth as she guides you to the diner.
Ignoring the bitter taste left on your tongue at the way Ellie assured you that she was your friend, and nothing more.
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Your mind was in absolute shambles.
It had been a few weeks since the farmers market with Ellie, and truthfully all had been well between the two of you. You both ate together, talked, laughed, you were even able to talk about your divorce, explaining to Ellie how you felt, what it had done to you, and she listened to it all, nodding along to your words, giving you the advice you didn’t want to hear, but very much needed. For a moment it was easy to forget all about the tension that had settled between you both, the thoughts that plagued you were finally silenced as you allowed yourself to just simply be.
That was until you got home.
The second you were in your bedroom, lying there, staring up at the ceiling, memories of that night began to flood into your mind. You could feel it all so clearly, Ellie’s hands on your body, her lips pressed against your mouth, gasping for air, her tongue sliding against your own. Her words echoed throughout your mind, desperate pants and moans of how she needed you, of how you needed her.
You couldn’t sleep a wink.
It felt as though you hadn’t even talked to her, as if things hadn’t glossed over to where they were okay, a point where things were fine between you both. They were, but the feelings you had were still there. You thought that if you had at least talked to Ellie, explained to her what you were feeling, it would give you a head start on where to go with sorting out your own feelings.
None of that ever came.
Your body yearned for a moment of peace from the issues at hand, you wanted to feel the same way you felt when you were sat at the diner with Ellie, her laugh and her sparkling smile distracting you from the things you were feeling.
But you knew you couldn’t turn to her for a distraction, you couldn’t use her to occupy your mind from facing things that you’d much rather ignore. That wasn’t fair to her and it would only hurt you further in the long run, lengthen the grieving process of the death of your marriage.
You couldn’t do that to Ellie.
You could however, go somewhere that you knew would clear your mind the moment you were there.
The low hum of your car engine shuts off as you pull up to the familiar clearing, a gentle smile on your face as you can already hear the gentle stream of the water the moment you’re stepping out of the car.
The old creek was one everyone in your town treasured, a tiny glimpse of paradise in the confides of your backyard. It was where all the seniors would go for senior skip day, and where families would visit to spend the day with their children. If there was any place that the people of your town would be during the summertime, it would be the creek.
And rightfully so, the waters sparkled like nothing you’d ever seen before, the shady trees hiding the spot away like a secret that belonged to you and only you. You had many fond memories of the place, ones with your family, your siblings, your old friends from school.
Ellie.
You and her would visit the spot any chance you got, diving into the cold water the moment you were there. You could recall the moment you two first found out, thinking it was a secret only you two shared, just to find out your parents had been visiting when they were your age as well.
Regardless of the fact that it didn’t belong to you two, it felt like it. A small piece of the world that you and Ellie could call your own, sharing secrets there with one another, Ellie pushing you off the old swing tied up to one of the trees before she swung in soon after, diving in and holding you close to her chest as she promised you’d be together forever, for as long as you both lived.
The intensity that you both shared as teenagers often made you laugh. What a silly thing for two teenage girls to say who have barely experienced the world out there.
You let out a gentle sigh as you rugged off your denim shorts after setting your spot up. A small blanket settled down with your bag, your old camera and a few books, clearly having every intention of staying the entire day, swimming to your hearts content.
Once you’re stripped of your clothes, your body only clad in your old bathing suit, you waste no time in making your way down to the water, shivering slightly once your toes hit the cold water, wiggling them in the process.
You’re convinced swimming in the small body of water has to have some sort of mystical healing properties, because the moment you’re diving your head under, eyes examining the aquamarine world that is below the surface, your mind is clear. It makes you feel like you could live there, swimming amongst the different underwater caverns and the fish, creating a whole new world below as the little mermaid you always dreamed to be.
Your mother always told you she thought she’d given birth to a little fish when your father first took you swimming.
It’s so easy to lose track of time when you’re like this, floating around in the water, letting its coldness wrap you up and swallow you whole. It’s almost comforting how quiet it is, the only sounds being the gentle stream of the water, the wind rustling against the tree leaves and the frequent sound of the birds chirping to let you know that you weren’t alone, letting you know they were there with you.
You don’t even realize it but you’ve spent hours swimming about in the small pond, the grumbling in your stomach finally stops you for a moment to actually think about anything other than swimming, forcing you out to lay out onto your blanket and dry in the sun, occasionally popping the sweet berries into your mouth you’d brought from home.
The book you’ve brought with you also silences the outside world, allowing you to flip from page to page without thinking of anything but the regal characters that seemingly had much more to worry about than you. What a world it would be to wear uncomfortable dresses and attend balls in the hopes you’d find the perfect husband.
What would they think of your divorce?
It makes you snort to yourself, a gentle hum leaving your lips as you flip another page, unaware of the sudden sound of feet crunching against the grass slowly approaching you.
The high pitched sound of your name being called rips your attention away from your book, furrowing your eyebrows a bit as you cup your hand above your eyes to shield from the sun, trying to get a good look at who it was that was disturbing your peace.
“I didn’t think I’d be seein’ you here! What a surprise!” Lilac chirps out, her curly hair tied up into a perfectly styled bun, tight coils framing her face as she clutches her towel to her chest.
You hadn’t seen her since the night Ellie took you out to the Copper Cat a few weeks ago, the girl not lingering on your mind much as you had much bigger fish to fry. You were honestly a bit shocked that she’d even remembered your name.
You give her a gentle smile as you sit up, your legs folding to cross one another as you give her a small smile.
“Good to see you Lilac….going for a swim?” You ask her, watching as the girl takes the spot right next to yours, her blanket fitting perfectly up against your own as she gives you a confident nod.
“Mhm! It’s too hot…bless Ellie’s heart for sharin’ this place with me. Don’t know what I’d do without it” she chirps out as she tugs her own denim shorts off, leaning her in the cutest little bikini.
You know she doesn’t mean it in the way that it sounds, bragging about being introduced to the small clearing by your ex girlfriend, and you knew that it was only in due time that this place was mentioned to her by someone in your town, making sense that Ellie would do it first since that’s just the kind of girl Ellie was.
But there’s just something that tugs at your heart at the thought of it all. Ellie mentioning this place to her, the two of them coming down together, alone, Lilac adorned in another one of those adorable bikinis she had to show off to Ellie her gorgeous body as they play in the water together.
Something about Ellie sharing the spot you two shared with someone else that just rubbed you the wrong way.
You inhale deeply, trying to calm your nerves as you remember that this girl owes you nothing, Ellie owes you nothing and Lilac has been nothing but kind to you from the moment she met you.
Giving her a gentle smile as she settles down next to you, you nod. “It’s pretty great out here…I’m surprised it isn’t so packed. Seems we got lucky” you give her a nod before you sigh, turning your attention back to your book.
She smiles fondly as she watches you turn your attention back to your book, her neck craning down a bit to get a good look at the cover, gasping softly once she realized what it was you were reading.
“You read those too? I love them! I just finished the first two” she beams, a soft hum leaving your lips as you look up at the girl, raising your eyebrows at her comment.
“Really? Most people think they’re super corny” you pout softly as you turn the book over to look at the cliche cover, which only earns a firm head shake from Lilac.
“Honey I’m a hopeless romantic, I daydream more than I actually try talking to people” she giggles out softly, giving you a gentle shrug.
Her words make you chuckle softly, gently closing your book as you toss it to the side before sitting up to mirror her posture, crossing your legs as you suddenly give her your full attention.
“You’re a hopeless romantic? But…Lilac you’re gorgeous. I wouldn’t be shocked if you have every single guy here desperate to get a chance with you” you confess, which only makes her shake her head as she gives you a shy smile, gently shoving your knee.
“Don’t you dare! I’m awful at talking to people” she pouts out, her eyes dropping from her own as she stares down at the flowers on her blanket, delicate fingers tracing the patterns gently as she lets out a gentle sigh.
“If I’m being honest…it’s not the guys here that I want…” her words trail off softly, and it makes you pout softly as you eye the girl, seeing how whatever is on her mind is clearly bothering her, plaguing the girl just as much as what was on your mind.
You open your mouth to ask her about it, feeling bad about whatever she was going through, but she’s quick to shake her head and put on a bright smile once she looks back into your eyes. “But let’s not get into that! M’glad you’re here to join me today” she breaths out, her voice sweet and genuine as her eyes soften.
And it makes your heart rate finally slow down, seeing just how genuine the girl seemed, how happy she was to be there with you regardless of the fact that you were as good as a stranger to her than anything more.
You smile softly as you nod, leaning forward and placing your hand on hers, giving a gentle squeeze. “Don’t mention it, Lilac” you hum out softly.
If there was anything you didn’t expect to do today, it was to have made a new friend, especially one in Lilac. The two of you spent the entire day down at the creek, laughing together, swimming together. The more time you spent with her, the more you realized just how much in common the both of you had.
Being completely honest with yourself, she had more kindness in her pinky than anyone in the city ever did.
The sun has set, and the breeze blew against your warm skin as you leaned against your car, Lilac in front of you as she made yet another joke that had you throwing your head back as you let out a loud laugh.
“Stop I feel the same way! I always wondered what happened to him” you gasp out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as you lean back to shove your back into the passenger seat of your car. Lilac giggles softly as she nods, her arms crossed over her chest as she swatted away the mosquitos slowly began to swarm around you both.
“He’s still an idiot, some people never change I fear” she groaned out, a prominent pout on her perfect lips before she cocked her head to the side, smiling fondly at you.
“Ellie was right about you, you know? You really are somethin’ special” she breaths out, and it has your eyes going wide at the mention of the girl. It makes you realize that you hadn’t thought about her all day, not since Lilac had joined you.
It makes you wonder what other things Ellie had said about you.
You whine softly as you bring your hand forward to nudge her playfully. “Shut up….you’ll blow my head up” you warn the girl playfully before you sigh softly, looking over at the sun that was slowly bur surly setting, the once warm glow that casted onto you both disappearing.
“Ahh I should get going…we shouldn’t be on the roads too late” you breath out softly, turning towards the girl and giving her a small smile, only to see a sad one on her face.
You frown softly as you watch her, leaning forward and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Hey? You okay?” You ask gently, suddenly worried about the girls shift in her mood.
She lets out a gentle sigh before she looks down at her feet, kicking around the gravel below before she lets out a soft hum. “I know we don’t know each other well…but…I feel like you’ll be my only help with this” she admits to you, her eyes still casted downwards before you assure her with a soft voice. “Of course you can..” you mumble out softly.
She finally looks up at you, taking a deep inhale before she gives you a half smile. “I…think I like Ellie” she breaths out, as if she’d been keeping it held in for so long, as if finally telling you was letting a weight off of her shoulders.
Letting it off of hers and slamming it down onto yours.
You find it hard to breathe, because suddenly you’re shot back to the first night you met Lilac at the Copper Cat. Ellie’s hand on her waist, hers on Ellie’s arm as she whispers in her ear, the two of them matching one another far more than you felt you could’ve ever matched Ellie. You feel threatened, and it sets a fire off in your chest, and you feel like the world is crumbling around you as this beautiful girl admits her innocent feelings for your ex girlfriend.
When you don’t speak, she continues.
“And I just…you and her are so close, so I was hoping maybe you could give me some advice? Should I go for it? Do you…think she’d like me back?” She asks hopefully, twiddling with her fingers nervously as she watches you closely, awaiting your response.
You stare are her blankly, your body working on autopilot as you try to work your way through this. Seeing her that night felt like it might’ve all been in your head, especially when Ellie ran out after you and left the moment you were ready, but now this is all real. This is Lilac confirming that what you felt was real, and this was the reality of coming back to your hometown, more specifically your ex girlfriend.
And as you stand there, trying to figure out what the hell to say to this girl, you can only see someone doing the same thing that you’re doing. She’s a young girl, looking for love in this crazy fucked up world, and she’s unsure of herself. Someone as beautiful as her is unsure of herself and you could only wish that someone would have guided you when you were pursuing your ex wife, a third party bystander giving their advice and helping you through it all.
Because as much as it kills you? Ellie deserves love, and so does Lilac, and if they find it in one another, who the hell are you to take that away from them.
The both of them owe you nothing.
You inhale deeply before giving her a soft smile, nodding as you reach out to give her arm a gentle, assuring squeeze. “I think Ellie would be thrilled to be with someone like you, Lilac….you should go for it” you breath out genuinely, watching as the girls face lights up with joy with your confirmation, an excited squeal leaving her lips.
“I was hoping you’d say that! You’re an angel” she squeals, reaching forward and grabbing you up into her arms as she gives you a tight hug, swaying back and forth as she tucks her chin into your shoulder.
You can practically feel the happiness radiating off of her.
You smile softly as you nod, wrapping your hands around her as you hug her back before you hum. “You didn’t need me…you’ll be great on your own” you assure her before you pull away, giving her a reassuring nod.
She smiles brightly as she nods before she lets out a loud sigh. “Right…get home safe, alright? And text me! We can hang out sometime this week” she sings out as she gets into her car, giving you a wave as she begins pulling off.
And suddenly you’re left there all alone, with the newfound thoughts that are swirling about in your head. You know already that you won’t be able to sleep, not with the mental image of the two of them dancing around in your mind, forcing you to face reality, face the facts that time moves on with or without you.
But you were tired of being left behind, you were tired of being the last one to know things, the one broken heart in a sea of mended ones.
Driving off in your car from the creek gives you time to think, the cool breeze kissing your skin, pushing your hair back as the radio plays your favorite songs, creating somewhat of a perfect scenario to think things over rather than running from them.
While it all hurts, you know that there’s no use in standing in the way of Lilac or Ellie or whoever for that matter. Life would continue moving, and in that meant new love would be found, for both you and Ellie, it just felt like that wouldn’t happen for you in the moment, even if you knew it would.
But you were going to move on from this. And you were going to be fine, no matter how long it took for you to catch up with the tracks of life that seemingly always got the best of you.
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There’s something therapeutic about hanging up the laundry on the old clothes line in your backyard.
You used to make fun of your mom all the time when she did it, telling her that there was a perfectly good dryer inside that would take less than half the time to dry the clothes than they did outside, not to mention less work when it came to picking them in.
However as you’ve grown older, there’s something so simple about walking outside with your basket on your hip, the gentle smell of detergent blowing into your direction as you pin up several articles of clothing, your white sheets, anything that you’ve washed, that tickles your brain in the best ways.
That, and the fact that these days you’ll take any task to fill your brain with thoughts other than Ellie or your ex wife.
Things had been fine. You spoke to Ellie here and there, dropped dinner off at Joel’s house that you knew he made sure she got some of whenever you made extra, you even made time for Lilac within the week as well. You’d picked up a small job in town as well, working at the cashier of a small floral shop that had been in town from you could remember.
So although your mind drifted to places you didn’t often like, life was fine. Life was slow, and life was good.
Lilac constantly gushed to you about Ellie, talking about all the progress they’d been making, asking your opinion on the girls behavior, which you always tried your best to help with. Although the strange thing about it all, was you heard nothing from Ellie about the situation. She didn’t mention anything about Lilac, not even when you brought it up.
It wasn’t long until you began distancing yourself from the both of them, knowing how hard it would be once they became official and you had to live life in a world where they were together.
Because although you were doing okay, the wound was still fresh, and you had to keep your peace.
You hummed a gentle tune softly as you continued hanging up your linen on the line, enjoying the feeling of the cool summer breeze against your skin, the dandelions dancing along through the air as they became loose from their stems.
The sound of your fence creaking open cuts right into your thoughts of housework, forcing you to turn around as you hang up another one of your sleep shirts, a soft smile on your lips when you catch sight of the familiar tall brunette walking into your backyard, both her hands shoved into the pockets of her denim jeans.
“Ellie…didn’t think you were coming over” you sigh out softly as you clip the end of your shirt up, continuing to hang up your clothes regardless of her being there.
“Was in the neighborhood….I thought I’d stop by” she breaths out, eyes taking in your form as you continue with your chore.
Her voice seems like something is bothering her, and you catch onto it the second she utters her first syllable. You know already why she’s here, to question you about your sudden absence, wondering if things were okay with you or not, worry clear in her tone.
“You…haven’t been around lately” she mumbles out, that same worried tone laced throughout her words.
It was just as you suspected.
You frown, thanking the task of laundry that hides your expression from her. It’s so much easier to lie to Ellie whenever you’re not looking into her eyes.
“Oh…I’ve just been uh…dealing with some stuff” you’re quick with the excuse, clearing your throat before you turn around to give her a soft smile. “I’m fine…honest” you give her your best attempt at a reassuring nod before you turn back to your laundry.
You have to turn away from her quickly, because you can see from the small glimpses you get of her that she’s frowning, and her brows are furrowed together with something that’s bothering her.
You hope she’ll leave after you tell her you’re fine.
But she doesn’t. You don’t hear her respond to your words, or even turn around silently to go about her day. You hear nothing behind you, only the sound of your white sheets wafting through the wind, drying on the line before you.
You frown when you look down to see your basket is empty, and the task of pinning up your clothes is no longer present to hide you away from Ellie.
So you need to get rid of her.
You inhale deeply, picking up the old basket and placing it on your hip, putting your most believable smile on your face before turning around, finally locking eyes onto the girl to see something that makes your heart sink.
It looks like she hasn’t slept, prominent bags under her pretty eyes, pouty pink lips chapped, most likely picked and bit at out of anxiety, a bad habit you knew she had whenever something was bothering her. Your heart tugs at the image, wanting nothing more than to pull the girl down into a hug, consoling her and telling her that whatever was bothering her, would be fine.
But you can’t. Because things aren’t the same anymore.
You inhale deeply before you nod your head towards your back door. “Well…I have lots to do inside…more house work…dinner” you explain, trying your best to hint at Ellie leaving without having to say so.
“Did I do something wrong?” She finally makes out, her words a clear plea to understand the situation rather than a half mumble that she’d rather not say.
It makes you furrow your eyebrows, watching the girl with a confused look as you try to understand her.
“Wrong? Ellie…I’ve barely seen you. What could you have possibly done wrong?” You try, confused of the sudden outburst from the girl.
Her eyes are stormy, hazy and hard to read. Her brows are knit as she looks down at the floor before looking back into your eyes, a prominent frown on her face.
“Why would you tell Lilac that there’s something worth looking for between her and I…why would you…” her words trail off, as if she wants to say more, as if she wants to persist with knowing why you would have done such a thing.
And soon it all starts making sense.
You wish Lilac wouldn’t have said anything. You wish she wouldn’t have told Ellie that you were the one that told her to go for it, even if she was the one that asked in the first place. You wish she would have just pursued Ellie without any mention of you, because was that even necessary? You know she must have done it to gush about you even further, the girl becoming enamored with you from the moment she saw you, and even more so once you two became closer.
But for the love of god…did she really have to tell Ellie that you were the one to tell her to go for it?
You open your mouth to speak before you sigh softly, your hands squeezing the handles of your clothes basket before you speak. “I….she spent the day down at the creek with me and when we were about to leave she told me she liked you…and she asked me if I thought she should pursue you” you explain with a shrug of your shoulders, which only makes Ellie scoff in disbelief.
“And you told her that was a good idea?” She argues back, as if it were the dumbest thing you could have ever done. She says it as if it were common knowledge to tell the girl other wise, you raise your eyebrows when she says this.
“Yeah? Why not? Lilac is…she’s fucking gorgeous Ellie. Anyone would be lucky to have her, and you should be happy I put you on with someone as great as her” you mumble out as you slip past the girl, clearly done with Ellie and this conversation as you walked up the wooden steps leading to your back door.
But Ellie isn’t finished with you, because she’s quick to follow behind, closing the door behind you as you make your way into your laundry room to set your basket down, your hands going to your hips once you turn around to see the girls built figure standing in your doorway.
“Ellie come on…I have things to do…you need to go” you huff out as you slip past her once again, going off into your living room to start on the dried laundry that needed to be folded, hoping that the girl would simply drop it and leave.
“You know I understood you the night after the show, and I was more than willing to give you all of the space you need, but this feels like you’re playing some sick joke on me” she’s standing over you now, watching as you try to ignore her in favor of some pillow cases that needed folding.
“Is pushing me into the arms of someone else your solution? And ignoring me until I’ve forgotten all about it? Is that the plan? Is that seriously what you think it’ll take to get rid of me?” She tries again, her voice pleading with you at this point as she watches you ignore her.
But this time you done, your hands drop to your lap as you stare up at her in disbelief before you toss the pillow case to the side, standing up opposite of her.
“I never had a plan! Lilac asked me a question and I was honest with her. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t be happy with someone else” you explain to her before you finally feel as though you’ve had enough, a huff of annoyance filling the silent air as you round the couch to slip away into the kitchen.
Before you’re fully there, Ellie’s voice is echoing off the walls.
“But I can’t be happy with someone else!” She shouts out, her arms flailing up inti the air before dropping down to her side, the sound of her palms slapping against her jeans before she sighs.
You stop dead in your tracks when you hear that one, your back still turned to her.
“How could I possibly be happy with anyone else when you’re all I fucking think about….” Her voice is tired, and it’s almost as if she’s begging you for something, something you are not capable of, something you cannot give.
Begging for you.
“From moment we had our first kiss….to the moment I said goodbye to you before you left for the city…I’ve only ever wanted you” you can hear her getting closer, slowly making her way towards you as you stand there at the edge of your kitchen, frozen, silent, unable to say anything to her as she confesses these things to you.
“It’s pathetic, and I’ve tried to suck it up for your sake because I know….you’re going through a tough time after that moron did what she did….but I can’t fucking hide anymore” she breaths out, and it sounds the same exact way that Lilac sounded when she admitted to you that she had feelings for Ellie those nights ago.
Your back is still turned to her, and you know she’s right behind you because her smell fills up your lungs and makes your eyes roll to the back of your head as you try to fight all of it back, everything that you’ve done, all that you’ve worked through from the moment you got home to get to the point that you were at currently.
But you feel all of it break the moment Ellie’s strong hand grips your shoulder gently, sighing softly as she speaks.
“Look at me….please angel…” she begs, her skin wafting onto your neck as she tries her best to fight the urge to grab you right then and there and kiss you.
When you finally turn around, her heart breaks, because the whites of your eyes are red, and there are heavy tears pooling at the edge of your eyes, making them sparkle in the warm light of your kitchen, looking so beautiful yet so tragic all in the same time.
Her chest tightens as she leans in to cup your cheek, fighting back the urge to groan as she inhales deeply. “I can’t…I don’t wanna pretend like I’m not still in love-“ you’re quick to cut her off, your tears spilling out onto her cheeks the moment you hear the word.
“Don’t…don’t say it” you warn her with shaky words, struggling to even speak with the burning sensation in your throat.
You don’t think you could handle it, hearing those words fall from someone’s lips again, the fear rising the moment they hang from Ellie’s, flashbacks of you’re wife at the alter, promising you everything and more before she kissed you and whispered in your ear that she loved you.
It’s scary, and it makes you feel terrified of Ellie.
Before she can carry on even further, trying her best to convince you that her words are true, silently begging you to hear her out as her wide green eyes stare down into yours, you’re cutting her off.
“I told you already Ellie…I’m not….i can’t do this again. I can’t give myself to someone like I did with her” your voice trembles as you explain, her vision blurring with tears as you try your best to swallow them all back.
She licks her lips as she stares down at you before she shakes her head. “I get it….I get that you’re hurting from what happened, but I can’t keep going on without you knowing anymore….” She starts to explain, both of her hands coming up to cup either side of your face, forcing you to look up at her.
“I’ve….god I’ve longed for you from the moment you left after high school. There was not a day that went by where I did not think of you for even a few seconds. And I’m sorry for what happened, and I understand if I’m just a childhood fling for you, but I’d rather you tell me that then try to push someone else onto me to distract me from what I’ve felt all these years” she rambles on, nearly stumbling over her words as they all bubble up to the surface, overflowing and dragging you down with her.
You open your mouth for a moment before closing it, looking far too similar to a fish out of water as you try to find the words to say. What are you even supposed to say? Are you supposed to lie to her? Tell her that you haven’t felt the same way? But now it’s different and it hurts to even try to envision yourself in a relationship with someone let alone pursue them? Even when it’s Ellie?
Your Ellie?
She watches as you struggle to speak, her eyes searching yours for even a sliver of hope that this will work, that her confession will bring you to a point where you can both meet, where things can be okay again.
And if they can’t? She needs to hear you say it out loud.
“Tell me you don’t feel the same” she deadpans, hands dropping from your face as any hope she might have had slowly drains out, fizzling out of her system as she watches you simply stare up at her, a mere shell of the girl she once knew.
“Tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll never bring this up again. We can move on from this and we can be friends. I promise” she breaths out, feeling the air slowly leaving her lungs, making it hard to breathe.
You feel the exact same way. You feel like the world has stopped around you both as images of your life swirls around your head.
There’s images of your ex wife, taking the privilege of love from you, ripping your heart out of your chest and walking away with it the moment she decided to cheat on you. It hurts, and it burns and it feels like something you’ll never recover from, something that leaves a wound so deep, that it will never grow the familiar leathery skin that it’s supposed to, creating a scar that acts as merely a memory for what happened, for what you endured.
And then there’s something sweeter in the corner, so small that if you pay enough attention to the hurt in your heart, you don’t even notice it.
It’s memories of Ellie. Sharing your first kiss with her, going to prom with her, spending late nights with her in your bedroom talking about the future, spending time with one another that will leave sweet memories in your mind till the day you die. It’s soft, and it’s easy and it makes your insides flutter with excitement at the mere thought of her by your side.
As you’re looking over all these parts of you, standing in your kitchen with Ellie and staring up into her eyes, you make a remarkable discovery.
You realize that if you try hard enough, the pain that comes from what your ex wife did doesn’t hurt as bad, long as you’re focusing on the feeling that Ellie gives you.
Because when you’re with Ellie, you feel nothing but love.
You lick your own lips as you stare up at her, inhaling deeply before you shake your head, feeling your throat burn with tears before you speak.
“I can’t do that….” Your words trail off for a moment before your eyes drift down to her strong hands, missing the feeling of her skin pressed against yours.
You slowly reach forward to take her tattooed hand into yours, your fingers dancing along the intricate details of the leaves on her wrist before you interlock your fingers, finally looking up at her as your eyes well up with tears for what felt like the hundredth time that day.
“Because I….feel the same way” you breath out, watching as her sage colored eyes glimmer with happiness, a gentle sigh of relief leaving her lips as she quickly moves her hand to cup your face, her other reaching down to hold onto your waist, pulling you close to her body.
“Jesus…c’mere” she practically moans out before she smashes her lips against yours in a passionate, love filled kiss.
You giggle softly, your hands wrapping around her wrist as you waste no time in kissing her back, arms coming up to loosely wrap around her neck as you press your chest against hers, reveling in the feeling of her lips pressed against your own.
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You hummed a gentle tune to yourself as you mixed up the pitcher of lemonade, far too deep in thought to pay the bustling party behind you any mind.
One of your favorite parts about the summer time was the cookouts. There was something about nearly the entire town coming together at someone’s house, enjoying the warm weather, the bright sun and good food, that made your heart burst with excitement.
You were just about ready to make your way to your backyard with the others, when you felt a firm hand sliding against your waist, smoothing down over the fabric of your flower sun dress and pulling you into their chest.
“Don’t you think we have enough drinks baby?” Ellie hums out softly, pressing her lips against the base of your neck, making you giggle softly as you lean into her.
“It’s almost 100 degrees outside, Ellie…I don’t think too many things to drink is even a possibility” you explain before you turn around in her arms, smiling softly at the firm as you wrap your arms around her neck, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of her lips.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on the grill? You better not burn all that food I bought” you playfully pinch her shoulder, which only makes her groan softly.
“It’s too hotttt….wanna be inside with you” she whines out, resting her head against your shoulder as she gently sways with you in the kitchen.
You hum as you nod, your fingers toying with the short hair at the nape of her neck. “I know baby….but your father will be very upset if he doesn’t have at least one beer with you…come on pretty girl” you hum out to her softly, your hands sliding down to hold her around her middle before giving her a gentle pinch near her ribs, which makes her yelp out as she pulls away, a prominent pout on her sun burnt, freckled face.
“Fine…but come out with me” she huffs out, leaning in to give your forehead a kiss before she makes her way outside, making you giggle softly.
You sigh softly to yourself, placing the lemonade on a small tray paired with some already filled red solo cups, and a few empty ones on the side that you knew would be getting filled up shortly after you brought them out. You had to move slowly with how full they were, groaning softly to yourself as you tried your best to not let them fall as you tried making your way through the crowd of people in your home.
“Oh honey let me help you with that!” You hear Lilac chirp out as she quickly comes behind you, pressing her hands against your waist before taking the heavy pitcher off of the tray, making you sigh in relief once you saw the girl.
“There you are! I was starting to think you wouldn’t show…” you pout out, smiling softly as the girl leaned in to press a friendly kiss to your cheek, which you were quick to lean into as well.
She giggled softly as she groaned. “Did you know that this party of yours is causin’ traffic out there?? Everyone’s dying to come, I almost ran out with the rollers still in my hair” she explains, making you giggle softly as she opened up your back door for you.
After everything happened with you and Ellie, you were terrified of what would happen with Lilac. You felt like you’d robbed the girl of something she wanted without even trying, even after being the one to tell her to go for it! Even after Ellie assured you time and time again that Lilac was always one to get innocent crushes on everyone, and that she’d get over it in no time, you were still scared that you’d lose the girl as a friend after just making her one.
You were quickly proven wrong when you met her in town a few days after, texting her and letting her know you had something to tell her. Instead of her being upset about you and Ellie, Lilac was thrilled. She grabbed you and hugged you, and told you that she even wanted to celebrate with you and Ellie, explaining that her crush was as innocent as could be.
And before you could even realize, Lilac had become your best friend.
You giggle softly as the children practically jumped you once they saw the tall pitcher of ice cold lemonade, frantically grabbing the cups and chugging them down before running off to play in the sun.
Catching sight of Ellie with her father and a few of her coworkers makes your heart flutter, and you decide to fill up a few more cups of the cold drink as you make your way over to them, a soft smile on your face.
“Lemonade anyone?” You chirp out softly, all of them taking them gladly before Ellie slung her arm around your waist, pulling you into her side as she pressed a kiss to the side of your head, carrying on with her conversation.
You don’t miss the way Joel smiles fondly at the two of you over the edge of his cup.
And later that night, when everyone’s left and the house is cleaned up, you lay with Ellie in your bed, the cool breeze blowing in through your windows, your bedroom illuminated by the white light of the moon.
You’re tucked away into Ellie’s side, your thigh hooked over her body, one of her hands rubbing along your skin and massaging your leg, the other looped around your shoulder as you stare up at her lovingly, your hand dancing along her t shirt clad chest.
“Did you have fun today?” You question softly, which earns a gentle smile from the girl before she looks down at you, giving you a slight nod.
“The best time baby….haven’t seen so many people gathered around for a party in a long time…you did good angel” she breaths out before she leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, which makes you smile warmly.
But the warmth doesn’t just settle in your cheeks.
A simple kiss from your girlfriend makes it travel down your body. It warms your throat, your chest, your stomach, traveling all the way down until it settles right in between your legs, making you clear your throat to bite back a whimper.
Ellie frowns softly when she notices this, pulling away to look down at you as she continues massaging your thigh. “Something wrong princess?” She questions, slight concern lacing her tone as she watches you with furrowed brows, her expression clear in the light of the moon.
When you and Ellie first started being romantic again, she promised you she’d take things slow. Your relationship only went far as kissing, a few gropes here and there, but nothing further than a steamy make out session that ended once Ellie tapped your thighs and forced you off of her lap, fearing that she was pushing you too far.
At first it was extremely considerate of her. It was true, intimacy was a bit hard for you at first, somehow thinking of your failed relationship every time you tried, blaming your self for not pleasing your wife enough.
But as time went on, those thoughts were virtually silenced. You didn’t even have the capacity to think of anything but Ellie when her tongue was down your throat, the feeling of her big hands on your body, and her toned thighs pressed between your legs.
So now…God…you needed her more than anything.
You were almost embarrassed to even say it, but it was getting to a point that anything Ellie did was setting you into a frenzy. Just today, her toned arms in here wife pleaser and her denim jeans made your head spin, and your panties cling to your needy core.
Her frown deepened when you didn’t answer, the girl turning over a bit to better face you before her hand came up to cup your cheek. “Baby? What’s the matter?” She questions once again.
You finally let out a soft sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you reach up to grab her wrist gently, keeping her close as you avoid looking into her eyes.
“I….need you Ellie…need you so bad” you sigh out softly, voice barely above a whisper.
Her frown only deepens further as she stares at you down in confusion. “Need me? But angel I’m right-“ her words are cut off when she feels your grip on her wrist tighten, and your thigh hikes up her body further, pressing your core against her side.
Her eyes widen in realization.
“Fuck…” she breaths out, watches as your eyes flutter open to stare into her own, yours filled with want and need as your other hand moves down to hold onto her exposed hip gently.
“Are you sure baby? We can…fuck…we don’t have to…” she struggles to get out, eyes glued to yours as she watches you.
You shake your head before you gently pry her hand from your face, bringing her fingers down to press against your lips before you sigh. “I’ve thought about you every day since I’ve left Ellie…of course I’m sure…” you sigh out softly before you open your mouth, taking her pointer and middle finger into your mouth as you slowly suck them in, moaning around them.
Ellie lets out a soft moan as she watches you, feeling her own clit pulse against her underwear as she quickly grows warm with a need similar to yours.
“That’s my girl…fuck….been needy huh?” She moans out, making you nod before you roll over to straddle her, her other hand coming down to grip your hip softly, massaging your skin through the fabric of her own t shirt draped over your body.
You let go of her fingers with a pop before you stare down at her, a soft smile on your face as you move down to press your lips against hers, wasting no time in pushing your tongue into her mouth.
The kiss is slow, and sensual and dirty and it’s everything you’ve wanted and needed since your divorce. It’s nothing like kissing your ex wife, but it’s everything like kissing Ellie. The noises she makes has your head spinning, and it forces you to roll your hips down onto her, which makes her moan even louder into your mouth.
“Fuck…want you to…wanna feel your pussy on mine baby…can you do that for me?” She questions out desperately, her hands roaming your body, pushing her t shirt up on your to reveal your tits.
Ellie had it all planned out. She wanted it to be romantic, she wanted to take things slow and show you just how much she loved you, just how serious she was about you. She wanted you to feel loved.
Oh did her plans not go as planned, but oh how you felt so fucking loved.
You nod eagerly, sitting up and tugging the t shirt off, tossing it somewhere in your room. Ellie moans loudly at the sight of you above her, hands reaching up and cupping either one of your boobs, pinching and rolling your nipples between her fingers.
Once she’s had her fun, you climb off of her for a moment, tugging off her panties, giving her time to tug her sleep shorts off as well, leaving you naked and her bottom half bare. She’s feverishly tugging you back onto her lap, allowing you to tug her t shirt off.
And the feeling of your bare chest pressed against hers makes you moan loudly, your lips coming down again to press a needy kiss to hers, filled with tongue and teeth as you both situate yourselves.
The moment comes quickly, your legs slotted between hers perfectly, pussy right on top of hers as she stares up at you with low, hazy eyes, strong hands gripping your thighs and your ass as you slowly began rolling your hips so that your throbbing clit bumps against hers, making the girl beneath you moan loudly as her back arches and her eyes flutter shut.
“F-fuck! Oh my….fuuuuckkkk…that’s it baby…fuck yourself down onto my pussy…oh my….ha-fuck” she moans out, voice going hoarse as her strong fingers press firmly into your skin, sure to leave marks in the morning.
Your moans mix with hers, paired with the sound of your sopping wet pussies sliding against one another, a symphony of erotic love making that has been a long time coming. It’s like the two of you let out every raw emotion that had been bottled up for all those years you spent apart, her longing, your hurt, it all mixes together to create something of a beautiful love song that belongs to the two of you, and no one else.
“Ellieee…fuck! Feels…feels so good..” you moan out, picking up the pace as you feel your orgasm growing closer and closer by the second, your bed creaking with every thrust of your hips.
Ellie can’t take it anymore, moving to sit up as she grips both of your hips, aiding you in riding her pussy faster before she gives you an encouraging nod. “Come on baby…cum with me, yeah?” She sighs out breathlessly, staring up into your eyes passionately as she feels her own orgasm growing closer.
You wrap your arms around her shoulders, keeping her closer as you moan and whine, eyebrows furrowing with pleasure as you struggle to make it there, struggle to not let the pleasure get the best of you.
Your heart feels like it’ll just burst.
“I…mmm…fuck….Ellie I love you…I love you so much…” you moan out, eyes fluttering shut as you feel right on the brink of your orgasm.
“That’s my fucking girl…I love you so much baby…more than you’ll ever know…” she moans out to you.
And suddenly, you see colors.
Your chest feels like you’ve been struck by lightening, struggling to even stay upright as your orgasm ripples through your body violently, your forehead resting against Ellie’s as your arousal mixes with hers, both of your orgasms so intense, so powerful, it feels like it’ll kill you both right then and there.
The come down is hard, because it’s almost sorrowful to no longer feel the amazing feeling that comes with making love to Ellie, but the feeling of her strong arms wrapping around your middle and keeping you close is almost better, her lips pressing against your collar bones and chest as you both breath hard, the room silent compared to the noise that once filled it.
She holds you there the entire time, whispering how much she loves you, promising you that she’ll give you everything you could ever want and need.
And while you’ve heard all of that before, just for it to end in shit….
You believe her, because this time? It’ll be different.
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itneverendshere · 2 months ago
Text
played me like a clarinet - rafe cameron (three) - finale
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request: "Desperately-on my knees-begging for a ''She's all that'' from 1999, with Popular Rafe x Reader. Ooouff, and you want that soul crushing heartbreak when she finds out about the bet he had made" pairing: rafe x smart!nerdy!reader. warnings: more angst <3; part one here; part two
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Staying away from Rafe was hard.
It was hard before you two tried to be friends and it’s even harder now that you gave him the no-contact ultimatum. Everywhere you went, it felt like he was there, even if he wasn’t. It was in the songs that played on the radio, in the way the sun set over the patio near your dorm, in the way his, now yours, shirts still smelled like him. 
You missed the late-night conversations, the way he’d laugh at your jokes, and how he could read you better than anyone else. But more than anything, you missed the way he made you feel—even if it wasn’t real at first. 
Every time your phone buzzed, you stupidly hoped it was him, even though you knew it wouldn’t be. You’d told him to stop, to leave you alone, and he had respected your boundaries even when it seemed like the last thing he wanted to do. And you’re proud of him for it—for once, he’s doing something right. But you’re mostly proud of yourself too, for sticking to your decision, for not letting him back in so easily.
Still, it doesn’t make it any easier.
You thought giving yourself space would help you move on, help you figure out if you could ever really trust him again. But instead, it just left this space where he used to be. You kept wondering how much of it was real for him—if any of it was. Maybe that’s why staying away felt impossible because a part of you wanted to believe he meant some of it, that his feelings weren’t just part of some game. 
You had to draw the line, to protect yourself from getting hurt all over again. And even though it hurt to keep him out, you knew it was the only way you’d figure out what you really wanted, without him clouding your judgment.
You tried to move on.
Slowly, cautiously, you started going on dates—nothing serious, just enough to remind yourself that there were other people out there, that Rafe wasn’t the only guy who could make you laugh or feel special. Every few weeks, you’d let yourself get dressed up, put on a smile, and meet someone new.
The first date was awkward, more like a practice run than anything else. You spent most of it comparing the guy to Rafe, noticing all the little things that didn’t measure up. It wasn’t fair to the guy, but you couldn’t help it. He wasn’t Rafe, and that’s all you could focus on. You ended the night with a polite hug and a promise to text, but you knew you wouldn’t.
The second date was better, but not by much. The guy was nice, made you laugh a few times, but there was no spark, no connection that made you want to see him again. You tried to be present, to give him a chance, but your mind kept drifting back to Rafe, to what he would say or how he would react to something. By the end of the night, you felt more exhausted than excited.
After that, you took a break. It was too soon, you told yourself. You weren’t ready to move on yet, and that was okay. 
Some days, you almost reached out to him. You’d pick up your phone, scroll through your messages, and your finger would hover over his name. It would be so easy to send a quick text, something casual, just to see how he was doing. But you never did. You knew that one message could ruinl everything you’d worked so hard to build—the distance, the boundaries, the fragile sense of self you were trying to protect.
Instead, you threw yourself into other things. Classes, the cheer squad, hobbies, anything to keep your mind occupied. You spent more time with friends, even though it was hard not to talk about him. You kept the conversations light, steering away from anything that would bring his name up. You didn’t want to be that person who couldn’t stop talking about their ex, who couldn’t let go, even if that’s exactly how you felt inside.
It helped, sometimes.
For brief moments, you’d find yourself genuinely laughing at a joke or losing yourself in a book or a project. But then something small would happen—a song on the radio, a glimpse of someone who looked like him, or the sound of his name in passing—and it would all come rushing back. It wasn’t fair. 
You’d think you’d be used to it by now, but each time it felt like a fresh wound. The memory of his laughter, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way he always knew just what to say—it was as if he left a ghost behind, haunting every corner of your life. And in those moments when you’d catch yourself smiling or feeling light, it was like a betrayal. How could you allow yourself to feel joy when he wasn’t there to share it?
It was like trying to run from a shadow that moved with you, always there, no matter how fast you tried to go.
Every time you thought about him, about how he had hurt you and how you were struggling to move on, it felt like stabbing at an old wound, hoping it would heal faster if you just made it worse. The reality was that you missed him in ways you weren’t ready to admit.
Running into him was inevitable. Despite your best efforts to avoid the places he might be, your college was too small, too intertwined with memories of him.
The first time you saw him after the ultimatum was at a party you had reluctantly agreed to attend. You spotted him across the room, laughing with his friends, looking just as carefree as ever. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, and for a moment, you felt stuck to the ground. But then he looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and the smile slipped from his face.
It was a small moment, one that no one else seemed to notice, but it felt like the all the air in your lungs had been sucked out. You forced yourself to look away, to focus on the conversation happening around you, but it was impossible to ignore the feeling of his eyes on you.
The second time was worse.
You were at the grocery store, just trying to get through your day when you turned a corner and nearly collided with him. The shock of seeing him so close, so unexpectedly, made you want to disappear on the spot.
You both mumbled awkward apologies, neither of you really saying anything of substance, just trying to avoid the awkwardness. But then he asked how you were.
“I’m fine,” you replied, too quickly, too sharply. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue.
He nodded, and for a moment, it looked like he wanted to say more, to reach out and touch you, but he didn’t. You both stood there, trapped in a painful silence, before you finally made an excuse and walked away, leaving him standing there in the aisle.
After that, the encounters became more frequent. You saw him at the beach, in coffee shops, passing by on the street. Each time, it was the same—an awkward exchange, a few forced pleasantries, and then a quick retreat. It was like the universe was conspiring against you, refusing to give you the space you so desperately needed.
And each time, it hurt just a little bit more. Seeing him in these mundane, everyday moments, like nothing had changed, made it harder to keep up the distance you’d built. It reminded you of all the times when being around him had felt natural, easy, like he was just supposed to be there.
But the worst part was the way he looked at you. Jessica had told you before. He’d never looked at any girl like that. And you stupidly held onto that tiny hope even if you shouldn’t. 
You’d been trying to keep it together all night, but the sight of Jessica and Tyler laughing together, so effortlessly in love, was making you bleed inside. The drinks kept coming, one after another, until the room started to blur around you. You didn’t even notice how much you were drinking—only that it was easier to keep swallowing than to think about Rafe. 
But the alcohol wasn’t enough to quiet your thoughts.
Instead, it seemed to amplify them, making everything feel sharper, more painful. Jessica and Tyler’s whispered words of affection, the way his hand rested on her thigh, the way she looked at him with pure adoration—You couldn’t stop thinking about how that should have been you and Rafe.  
By the time you realized you were too far gone, it was late. You stumbled as you stood up, the room spinning wildly around you. Someone—Jessica, maybe—asked if you were okay, but their voice was muffled, distant. You tried to nod, to say something reassuring, but your legs buckled beneath you, sending you crashing back into your chair.
"Whoa, easy there," Jessica’s voice was sharper now, filled with concern. She crouched down in front of you, her hands steadying you. “You’re not okay. We need to get you out of here.”
You tried to shake your head, to insist that you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come. The room was tilting, spinning, and you couldn’t focus on anything. Your vision was blurry, your limbs heavy, and you realized, with a sinking feeling, that you were too drunk to take care of yourself. You couldn’t even stand up, let alone make it home.
Panic started to set in. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to lose control like this. You weren’t supposed to need help.
“Jess… I’m fine…” The words slurred out of your mouth, but even you didn’t believe them.
“No, you’re not.” Jessica’s voice was firm now, almost authoritative. She glanced around, clearly trying to figure out what to do. The other girls were watching, their laughter fading into worried murmurs, “Baby, can you go and get her some water and sugar, please?”
She gently guided you to lean back, her hand on your shoulder to steady you. You tried to focus, tried to push through the fog in your mind, but everything was slipping away, your thoughts swirling together in a jumbled mess.
“Hey, stay with me, okay?” Her voice was softer now, almost pleading. She wasn’t just a concerned friend at this moment; she was scared. You’d never seen her like this before. 
“I—” You started, but the words tangled in your throat. You wanted to tell her that you were sorry, that you didn’t mean to ruin the night, that you just wanted to stop thinking about him for a couple of hours, but all that came out was a garbled sound that barely resembled a word.
“Shh, it’s okay,” she soothed, her thumb brushing lightly against your arm. “We’ll get you out of here. It’s gonna be okay.”
Tyler returned with the water and sugar, and Jessica took the glass, trying to get you to drink. The water felt cool against your lips, but swallowing was harder than it should’ve been. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of consciousness.
“Come on, just a little more,” Jessica urged. You managed a few more sips before the glass slipped from your grasp, water sloshing onto your lap.
“Jess, I—” You tried again, but before you could finish, you heard another voice, one that sent a jolt through your foggy mind.
He was there, right in front of you, and you knew it was him without needing to open your eyes.
“Jesus Christ,” you heard him mutter. He crouched down, gently lifting your chin so you were forced to meet his eyes. “What the hell happened?”
“She had too much to drink,” Jessica explained quickly, her tone defensive, as if she expected him to start blaming her. “We were just about to get her out of here.”
You tried to smile, to play it off like it was no big deal, but all that came out was a shaky breath. “Too much… too much, Rafe…”
“I can see that,” he said, his tone softening as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. He turned to Jessica, his voice all business now. 
You didn’t know how long he had been standing there. Was your brain torturing you? Making you believe he was there?
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he knelt down beside you, his hands grabbing your trembling ones. “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, as if he was afraid you might break into pieces if he spoke too loudly. “I’m gonna get you home, okay?”
You wanted to say no, to tell him that you didn’t need him, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you just nodded, too tired and too dizzy to fight it.
He exchanged a look with Jessica and she sighed, her worry morphing into something closer to relief. “I’ll help you get her to the car.”
Your legs were useless, and you sagged heavily against his chest. He didn’t hesitate, scooping you up in his arms like you weighed nothing, cradling you against him. His scent surrounded you, familiar and comforting, and despite everything, you found yourself leaning into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your temple. “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”
You nodded weakly, too exhausted to argue. Your eyes fluttered shut as he carried you out, the sounds of the party fading away behind you.
The ride to your dorm was a blur. 
You were vaguely aware of Rafe’s arm around you, of Jessica sitting on your other side, rubbing your back in small circles. The motion of the car made your stomach churn, and you had to close your eyes to keep from getting sick. Uber or not, you weren’t about to ruin someone else’s car. 
When you finally arrived, he practically carried you inside while Jess fumbled with your keys before pushing the door open.
He led you to your bed, easing you down onto the mattress.
“I’ll stay with her,” he muttered, his voice leaving no room for argument. Jessica hesitated, looking between the two of you, before nodding slowly.
“Call me if you need anything,” she said to Rafe, squeezing his arm before she left.
You were barely aware of her leaving, still too drunk to process much of anything. He knelt down beside your bed, brushing a stray hair from your face. 
“You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured, his voice a soothing lullaby.
You wanted to say something, to tell him that you didn’t need him, that you were fine on your own.
You felt your bottom lip tremble. 
He noticed the change immediately, his blue eyes softening as he continued to gently brush the hair from your face. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, his thumb lightly tracing the curve of your jaw. “Just breathe.”
But that only made it worse. You could feel the tears welling up as you realized just how much you’d missed this—missed him. The safety of his presence, the way he always seemed to know what you needed before you did.
Your stomach churned, the nausea that had been building since you first sat in the car finally reaching a breaking point.
“Rafe,” you mumbled, your voice weak and shaky, “I think I’m gonna—”
He reacted instantly, his arms tightening around you as he quickly looked the room. “Okay, okay, just breathe,” he said, “You’re gonn be fine.”
But breathing was the last thing on your mind as the room started spinning faster. You tried to push away from him, your hand gripping his shirt as you fought to keep it down.
“Rafe, I need to throw up,” you managed to gasp, panic rising in your chest.
He didn’t hesitate, scooping you up from the bed and hurrying toward the bathroom. You barely registered the fact he was touching you again after so long, your mind solely focused on the nausea.
He got you to the bathroom just in time, guiding you to the toilet as you collapsed in front of it. He held your hair back with one hand, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back as you retched, the sound of it echoing harshly in the small space.
“It’s okay, I’m right here,” he murmured, grounding you as you emptied your stomach. You could feel the heat of his hand on your back, the gentle way he kept your hair out of the way.
When it was over, you slumped against the cool porcelain, too exhausted to care about anything other than the relief of having the nausea finally subside. Rafe handed you a damp washcloth, and you pressed it against your face, the coolness soothing against your overheated skin.
“Better?” he asked softly, crouching down beside you. 
You nodded weakly, unable to meet his eyes. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Thanks.”
He didn’t say anything, just stayed close, while you avoided his gaze entirely. The room was quiet now, the only sound the slow, steady rhythm of your breathing as you tried to regain some control.
“I’m sorry.”
You felt embarrassed, and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t expected, and you hated every second of it.
“Stop apologizing,” Rafe said gently, his hand still resting on your back. 
“Can you… can you stay over?” 
You didn’t want to be alone, not tonight, not with the way your heart was aching.
Rafe’s eyes softened, the way they did only for you, and for a moment, you thought he might agree, that he might stay and help you forget, even just for a little while. 
But then he shook his head, his expression pained.
“I can’t,” he said, his voice strained, like it hurt him to say it. “You know I can’t, sweets.”
You tried to hold it together, but it was no use. Before you could stop yourself, you were crying—quiet, heartbreaking sobs that you couldn’t control.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he reached out, brushing the tears from your cheeks, but it only made you cry harder. “I’m so sorry.”
You couldn’t even respond, the words tangled up in your throat. It wasn’t just that he wouldn’t stay; it was everything—the confusion, the heartbreak, the way you felt like you were losing him all over again, even though he was right there in front of you.
“Please don’t cry,” Rafe pleaded, his voice breaking. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. “I hate seeing you like this.”
You buried your face in his chest, the sobs shaking your entire body. The warmth of his touch, the familiar scent of him—it was too much, too close to everything you’d been trying to avoid. But you couldn’t pull away. You didn’t want to.
“I just… I just miss you,” you choked out, the words spilling from you in a broken whisper. “I miss you so much, Rafe.”
“I know,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “I miss you too.”
You clung to him, your fingers gripping his shirt like it was the only thing keeping him from disappearing. The tears wouldn’t stop, and neither would the ache in your chest, the one that had been there ever since you’d forced yourself to let him go.
“I wish things were different,” his usually bright eyes were dimmed, his brows drew together as if he was in pain. He looked at you like he was memorizing every detail, like he was afraid this might be the last time, “I keep hurting you.”
His hands trembled slightly as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his touch gentle as his fingers cradled your face. His thumbs brushed away the tears again, but they kept coming, fresh and spilling over. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but all that came out was a ragged breath.
“Please don’t hate me more for this,” he whispered, his voice rough, barely holding back. His eyes searched yours, desperate for reassurance, for something to cling to in this moment that felt like it was tearing you both apart.
“I could never hate you,” you whispered back, the words catching in your throat as the tears continued to fall. It hurt to say it, to admit it out loud.
He left that night.
You had almost convinced yourself that it was better this way, that moving on, that he did you a favor that night by leaving, that keeping him out of your life was the only solution. 
Staying away from you was killing him. 
⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ
Rafe spent his days trying to distract himself, throwing himself into his studies for the first time in his life, into parties, into anything that would take his mind off you. 
But nothing worked. Every time he saw something that reminded him of you, it was like a punch to the gut—a song you liked, a place you used to go together, even the smell of the ocean would bring memories crashing back. He missed you so much it hurt.
And when he saw you, it was even worse. The first time he ran into you after the break, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. He was at a party, trying to forget, trying to lose himself in the noise and the crowd, when he saw you across the room. For a moment, he thought he was imagining it, that his mind was playing tricks on him. But then your eyes met his, and his heart almost stopped.
You were as beautiful as ever, maybe even more so, but there was something different about you—something guarded, distant. But before he could even think about crossing the room to talk to you, you looked away, your expression closing off, leaving him standing there like an idiot, staring after you. 
He’d told you he’d wait for you and he intended on keeping that promise. He couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to have you back, to hold you, to tell you how much he loved you, how sorry he was. He’d never felt this way about anyone before, never been this wrecked over a girl, but you weren’t just any girl. 
Rafe had never been good at groveling, at admitting he was wrong, but for you, he’d do anything. He’d get on his knees and beg if that’s what it took. He didn’t care about his pride anymore, not when it meant losing you. He was willing to do whatever it took to make things right, to prove to you that he was serious, that he loved you more than he ever thought possible.
But every time he saw you, he felt that hope slipping further away. The look in your eyes, the way you avoided him, it all felt like a final nail in the coffin. And yet, he couldn’t let go, couldn’t stop himself from yearning for you, from wanting you back in his life. He was going out of his mind, torn between respecting your wishes and fighting for you with everything he had.
Rafe knew he had to do something different, something that would show you just how much he had changed. The problem was, he didn't know what that was. He needed to find a way to prove to you that he was serious, that he was willing to put in the work to make things right.
So he started small.
He stopped going to parties, and stopped trying to drown out his feelings in distractions. Instead, he focused on becoming the person he thought you deserved—the person he knew he could be if he just tried. He started paying more attention in class, showing up on time, and actually studying. He even started volunteering, something he’d never done before, just to keep his mind occupied with something productive, something that wasn’t about him for once.
But the real change came when he began working on himself. He started seeing a therapist, something he’d always scoffed at before. He had a lot of baggage, a lot of unresolved issues that had driven him to hurt you in the first place, and he knew he needed to work through them if he ever wanted to be good enough for you.
It wasn’t easy. Therapy forced him to confront things he’d buried deep, things he’d avoided dealing with for years. Family trauma and all. But he stuck with it, because he knew it was the only way to get better, to be the kind of man you could trust again.
Slowly, he started to see changes in himself. He was more patient, more understanding, and more aware of how his actions affected others. He didn’t expect you to notice any of it—he was doing it for himself as much as for you—but he hoped that maybe, just maybe, you’d see that he was trying.
And then he had to pick you up that night.
He had never seen you drunk before, you’d always preferred your fruity punch over any other alcoholic drink. He’d always known you as strong, independent, someone who could hold your own. Seeing you like that—broken, hurting—made something in him snap. Was this his fault? Had he done this to you? 
He knew he couldn’t stay that night. As much as it killed him to leave, he understood that this was part of growing too—the part where he learned to respect your boundaries, to give you space even when all he wanted was to hold you and never let go. You’d hate yourself the next day. He was doing you both a favor. 
The next morning, Rafe didn’t text or call. He wanted to give you time, to process everything without the pressure of him hovering. Instead, he threw himself back into his routine, keeping himself busy but always with you at the back of his mind. He wondered if you remembered anything from the night before—how close he’d come to breaking down when you asked him to stay, how it had taken every ounce of self-control to walk away from you again.
Days passed, and he didn’t hear from you. It felt like a new kind of torture, but he stayed strong, if this was part of the process then so be it, he needed to be patient. 
He didn’t want to push you, didn’t want to make you feel like you owed him anything. But he couldn’t stop hoping that maybe, just maybe, you were thinking about him too.
So when the call came that you were in the hospital, his heart nearly fell through his ass. He didn’t think, didn’t hesitate—he just went.
The thought of you being hurt, of something happening to you, was enough to make him speed over the legal limit. He needed to see you, to make sure you were okay, even if it was the last thing he did.
When he got there, his heart clenched tightly in his chest as he pushed through the doors of the hospital. He hated hospitals, hated everything about them—the smell, the sterile white walls. But none of that mattered now. All he could think about was you.
The nurse at the front desk directed him to your room, and he practically sprinted down the hallway, his mind racing with a thousand worst-case scenarios. He’d been too fucking anxious to ask if you were okay, as soon as your name and the word hospital registered, he was rushing over. When he finally reached your door, he paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you told him to leave?
But then he heard your pretty voice, soft and familiar. He pushed open the door and there you were, sitting up in the hospital bed with a sprained ankle, looking more frustrated than hurt. He breathed out in relief, so intensely it made his knees weak.
“Rafe?” you blurted out, your eyes widening in surprise as you saw him standing there. “What are you doing here?”
He took a step closer, “They called me. I’m still your emergency contact.”
“Oh,” you muttered, looking down at your hands. “I didn’t realize.”
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Are you okay?”
You nodded, but he could see the tension in your shoulders, the way you were trying to hold it together. “It’s just a sprained ankle. Nothing serious. Did a little too much during practice."
Rafe nodded, but he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. The sight of you in that hospital bed, even for something as minor as a sprained ankle killed him. 
“Hey,” you said softly, your voice pulling him out of his thoughts. “You don’t have to stay. I’m fine. Really.”
But he couldn’t leave. Not now, not when you were right in front of him, looking so small and vulnerable. He shook his head, his voice coming out rougher than before, “I’m not leaving.”
You blinked up at him, “But you don’t have to—”
“I’m not leaving,” he repeated, his voice firm. “I know you can handle yourself, but I’m staying.”
Surprisingly, you didn’t kick him out.  “Okay.”
He pulled up a chair beside your bed, settling in like he had no intention of going anywhere. The room was quiet, the only sound the faint beeping of the machines and the murmur of voices from the hallway outside. For a moment, neither of you said anything.  It was strange, being this close yet so far away from you. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, taking in the way yours had softened, the way the lines of worry on your face were starting to smooth out. You looked tired like you’d been lacking sleep. He wished he could help, even if just for a little while.
“You know,” he said quietly, breaking the silence, “I used to think I was pretty good at taking care of myself. But then I met you, and I realized I’d never really let anyone take care of me before. Not like you did.”
“Rafe—”
“No, let me finish,” he interrupted gently, “I’m still here. I’ll always be here, even if all I can do is sit in a hospital room with you and make sure you’re okay.”
You looked down at your hands, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
“I missed you,” you whispered, the words so quiet he almost didn’t hear them.
His breath caught in his throat, his heart squeezing painfully at the admission. “I missed you too,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.
“Thank you for that night.”
He shifted slightly in his chair, leaning a little closer, careful not to overwhelm you but needing to be nearer all the same.
“I didn’t do anything special,” he murmured, though his mind replayed the events of that night. The helplessness he’d felt seeing you in that state, knowing there was little he could do to make it better. He hadn’t been sure then if you’d even wanted him there, but he’d helped you anyway. He couldn’t leave you, not when you needed someone—when you needed him.
“You were there,” a tear slipped down your cheek, and he instinctively reached out, his thumb gently wiping it away. The touch was soft, almost reverent, and it made your breath get stuck in your throat.  “That’s more than enough.”
You leaned into his touch for a moment, savoring the comfort it brought, even though it hurt to let yourself feel it, “Just glad you’re safe.”
“Why did you come?”
“Because I love you,” he admitted, tired of carrying the truth inside him, “I know I screwed up—God, I know that. But I’ve spent every day since trying to be better, trying to be the kind of man you deserve. And I know I have a long way to go, but I’m not giving up. Not on you. Not unless you ask me to.”
“You love me?”
Your voice sounded so meek, so unsure it made him want to punch himself in the face. This was entirely his doing. 
He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. He looked nervous, and vulnerable, “Yeah,” he said, “I do. I’m in love with you, I just—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “I didn’t know how to say it, or maybe I was too scared to. Didn’t want to make you think I was saying it to save my ass, y’know?”
You’d always wondered what it would be like to hear those words from him, to have him admit that he cared for you in the same way you cared for him. 
“I didn’t want to push you,” he continued, fingers intertwined, “But I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I couldn’t let you think that I didn’t care, that I didn’t want this, want you.”
You blinked, trying to process everything he was saying. This was the Rafe you’d always hoped for—the one who was honest and unafraid to show his emotions. But it was also the Rafe who had hurt you, who had made mistakes that left scars you weren’t sure had fully healed.
“Rafe, I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat.
“You don’t have to say it, sweets. It’s okay.”
“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “I’m scared of getting hurt again, of going back to that place where everything fell apart.”
He had changed—you could see it in the way he carried himself, in the way he spoke to you. He wasn’t the same Rafe who had hurt you.
"I’m not asking you to trust me right away," he continued, though there was a hint of desperation in it. "I know I need to earn that. But please, give me a chance to prove it. I don’t want to lose you again."
"You can’t wait for me forever.”
“I’d wait for you a lifetime. I told you,” His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing when he spoke, as if he was trying not to cry, “If you ever want me, I’m yours.”
His hands, usually so restless, were still now, resting on his knees as he leaned slightly forward in his chair. You saw the man he was trying to be—the man he wanted to be for you. He wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but he was trying. And that had to count for something.
“Even if I made you wait until we’re eighty and grey?”
Rafe let out a breathless laugh, the sound strained but genuine, “Even then,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “You’re it for me.”
It scared you how much you wanted to believe him, how much you wanted to pull him into your arms and tell him that he was it for you too. He reached out, his hand hovering near yours, waiting for you to close the distance. You hesitated for only a moment before your fingers intertwined with his.  It felt right, like coming home after being lost for so long.
He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were thinking, feeling. He looked like he was holding his breath.
“I love you too.”
It was still scary, still uncertain, but you realized that nothing worth having ever came easy. And Rafe, with all his flaws and all his efforts to be better, was worth it.
He exhaled, his shoulders sagging in relief, “I don’t deserve you,” he said whispered, lips pressed against your fingers, “But I’m going to spend every day trying to. I swear, I’ll never stop trying.”
You closed your eyes, “You’re gonna make me cry.”
Rafe’s grip on your hand tightened, as if he could physically hold you together through sheer will alone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” he started, his voice panicked, but you shook your head, cutting him off.
“No, it’s okay,” you whispered, opening your eyes to meet his. “I just… it’s been a long time since I let myself feel this way.”
He nodded, his thumb gently brushing against the back of your hand in slow, soothing circles. “You don’t have to hold back with me. Not anymore. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay.”
The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, running down your cheeks. Rafe was there instantly, his other hand reaching up to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing away the tears with a tenderness that made your heart hurt.
“I’m so sorry,” his voice cracked, “For everything I put you through.”
You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding you, giving you the strength to keep going. “I was so miserable Rafe,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “Scared that if I let you back in, I’d get hurt again. Scared that I’d lose you all over again.”
“I know,” he said, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. “And I promise you, I’m not going anywhere this time. I’m here, and I’m not going to let you down.”
“I want to try.”
Rafe’s breath hitched, and he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching yours as if he couldn’t  believe what he was hearing. “You do?”
You nodded, a small, tentative smile forming on your lips. “I do. But we need to take it slow, okay? I need time.”
“Of course,” he said quickly, his eyes bright with hope. “We’ll go as slow as you need. I don’t fucking care sweets, I’m not leaving.”
You weren’t just giving him another chance—you were giving yourself one too. A chance to heal, to forgive, and to find your way back to each other.
Rafe pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment as if sealing the promise between you. “We’ve got this,” he murmured against your skin. “It’s you and me, okay?”
“You and me.”
Rafe’s eyes softened, and a genuine smile tugged at his lips, one that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. It was a smile you hadn’t seen in a long time, and seeing it made you want to bawl all over again. His hand cradled your cheek, his fingers tracing delicate circles on your jaw as his eyes locked onto yours, silently asking for permission, for forgiveness, for a chance to be close to you again. And when his lips finally brushed against yours, whatever pain you were feeling on your ankle disappeared. 
The kiss was soft, tentative at first, like he was afraid you might pull away, afraid to push too far too soon. But the moment your lips pressed back against his, that tentative touch deepened. Rafe’s hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand to be apart from you even for a second. You could feel the desperation in the way his lips moved against yours, the way his breath hitched when you parted your lips to let him in.
Just as you were about to lose yourself in him, the door to your room swung open with a creak. You both froze, lips still touching, as someone cleared their throat.
You pulled away from each other reluctantly, your cheeks flushed, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Your eyes met Rafe’s and you saw the same blush of color on his face, the same love-sick expression that you were sure mirrored your own.
The doctor stood in the doorway, a clipboard in hand, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Well, I see you’re feeling better.”
Rafe cleared his throat, stepping back slightly, his hand still lingering on your arm as if he couldn’t bring himself to let go just yet. “Uh, yeah, she’s doing great,” he mumbled.
“You must be the boyfriend.”
You couldn’t help the grin that took over, “Yeah. He is.”
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lowkeyrobin · 3 months ago
Note
(i’m not sure if your requests are open so i’m sorry if they aren’t and i’m sending this in 😭)
Can I request Five with a reader that’s always really energetic and yaps a lot but something happens between them and Reader gets distant?? 🫶
ooo yeah sure!! ; and my requests are on dw! when they're closed I remove my inbox in general just to avoid it and to prevent ppl who don't look at the big bold words in my bio lol ; but yeah, thank you for requesting! hope you enjoy! ; also I made this in hc format cause I was NOT trying to write all that
FIVE HARGREEVES ; yapparappa
summary ; youre really energetic and talkative, but once a fight breaks, you become distant and quiet
warnings ; language
disclaimers ; don't ask ab the title, I was just thinking parappa the rapper and yeah idk
word count ; 278
masterlist
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he's a quiet guy
but he'll happily listen to your yapping
you surprisingly teach him a lot
and he finds it comforting
like classical music to Reginald, he wouldn't be able to survive without you
but after a fight (about Marcus / Sparrow Academy & him running off with Klaus and not being around for the Kugelblitz) you'd started to avoid him
he said some very rude things
those things being along the lines of how he wished he never met you, how annoying you are, how much he can't stand you, etc
so you obviously stormed off all angry at each other
but you'd become completely distant while he was trying to fix the world again
like you didn't come down for an early morning coffee with him like you usually did
nor did you rant about anything to him later that night or the ones following
if he was even around, you'd move away and not even look at him
like he hadn't heard you speak for DAYS
that's never happened before
like you're always rambling about something or asking him questions about shit, etc
he started to feel bad when Klaus started yelling at him about it
"this is childish! you're stuck in a child's body trying to prove you're a man and you're hurting your love!" he fake cries. "they could get kugelblitz'ed and their last memories of you would be you yelling at them, five"
he groans, deciding he'll go apologize to you
so he apologizes, expecting one from you as well
and you deliver
he's up front and honest that he doesn't find your rambling annoying
if anything its comforting for him
aweee happy ending lol
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