#but yeah not trying to sound too negative!! i think i did enjoy it on balance there's just a lot to think about haha 😅

[elizabethshaw]

trying to work out what exactly was going on in 73 yards

[egcdeath]

off the beaten path

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

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

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

word count: 18.4k

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

JFK AIRPORT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only because you wanted it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

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

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

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

“You actually don’t, though.”

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

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

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

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

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

BARCELONA, SPAIN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop looking at me,” you demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well… like what you see?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Both of you could play this game. 

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

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

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

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

“I’ll come with you,” he insisted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Clearly you fucking did,” you hissed. 

“Fuck you,” he huffed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You still loved him. 

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

PARIS, FRANCE

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

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

Now, you just felt like an idiot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It is,” he agreed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not the worst,” he countered. 

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

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

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

“Is that what we are now?”

“I never said we were good friends.”

“Frenemies?”

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

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

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

LONDON, ENGLAND

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fun. It’d be better if you came.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you still want one?” Patrick asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s fine. I’ll shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pat?” you squeaked. 

“Yeah?” he asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laughed and shook your head, not bothering to argue with his words since you both knew they were pretty accurate. 

“I mean, I’m sure she’ll be inviting you to Thanksgiving and Christmas long after we’ve moved on with other people and have our own families.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. You were sure of it. You thought you could genuinely feel the movement of your most vital organ slowly sinking into a pit of stomach acid. 

You tried not to let your smile falter, considering that Patrick was looking right at you with a sweet look of his own plastered on his face. You wondered if this was some sort of test, to gauge how you felt after a day of rekindling the love the two of you thought had burnt out. 

Or maybe, more realistically, he’d already come to accept the reality that you’d been stalling on accepting: your relationship was truly over. One fun day wouldn’t change the fact that your wedding had been called off, and that the two of you said things to each other that would alter the foundations of any solid relationship for years to come. 

Your heart was such a traitor. She refused to accept the simple fact that Patrick wanted to move on, and that your relationship was a thing of the past. Maybe, if you couldn’t convince your heart to accept that truth, you might be able to force your brain to. 

“And I’ll still be accepting that invitation, thank you very much,” you stated, trying to sound confident in your words. “In the meantime, let’s get ready before we miss this bus. You can tell me what your mom’s menu is gonna look like this year on our ride over.”

SOMEWHERE IN CENTRAL GERMANY

It was stupid for you to be torn up the way that you were over just a few simple words, but the more you thought about it, the worse you felt. 

In reality, it wasn’t just what Patrick had said to you in the hotel room. It was the fact that he’d been actively trying to move on with other people since who knew when, and the way he seemed to frequently verbally reiterate the fact that your relationship was over. By holding out hope that you might somehow be able to repair your relationship, you were being much more naïve than you even realized. 

You felt stupid. But you also felt confused, because as much as Patrick swore he was over you, and pursued other people, he was also far too comfortable acting like nothing had changed between you two. After all, he was the one flirting with you, and trying to attach himself at the hip to you as you traveled. He was the one who always managed to end up spooning you over the course of the night and woke up kissing whatever part of your body he was closest to. For god's sake, he’d just told you yesterday about how he’d searched high and low to find a bouquet of flowers that he thought you would genuinely like. And most damningly, you hadn’t forgotten the look of hurt on his face when he found out that you had slept with someone else. That wasn’t the behavior of someone who was over their partner.

To say you were receiving mixed messages was a complete understatement. You couldn’t understand how it was possible that the man who was currently leaning against you very affectionately, despite being on a cramped bus, was also totally over you and wanted to move on.

You didn’t know what you wanted to do about the situation, but you were sure that you couldn’t keep going like this. 

Your bus stopped somewhere in Germany for the evening, letting you all out to have dinner and do some light sightseeing before regrouping in the morning and heading to Prague. Somehow, that translated to going to a bar to try out German beer for you, Patrick, and a few of the friends you’d made while traveling. 

After a brief intermission of checking into your hotel room, your small group met up in the lobby, then set off to find a bar. 

Drinking while you were feeling a little upset probably wasn’t your brightest idea. The speed and volume at which you were consuming alcohol was a little concerning, but not nearly as concerning as how much Patrick was drinking. Eventually, even in your drunken state, you realized that you should probably slow down—if nothing else, to take care of him. 

But the two of you continued on, going from bar to bar, getting drunk at a level that probably would’ve been acceptable when you were younger, but was certainly going to take a major toll on you now. 

Forgetting about the repercussions of the future, you two were having a great time. Despite you being out with a group, it felt a little bit like the two of you were in your own little bubble. Nothing else in the world seemed to matter as the two of you took shots and danced together. Not the people around you, not the fact that you had to be up early the next morning to make it onto your coach, not even the fact that Patrick had implied that the two of you would move on and have families with other people only a few days ago. 

By the time that the rest of your group had called it quits, explaining that they wanted to be up and functional in time for your ride the next morning, you and Patrick were still in your own little world. It was only after you’d shared a few drunk cigarettes that the two of you decided that the fun should end, and that it was time to head back to your hotel. 

Unfortunately for you, midway through your trek back home, your drinking buddy had given up on walking, leaving you tasked with literally dragging him all the way back to your hotel. While a sober version of yourself would’ve been annoyed by the inconvenience, all you could really think about was how nice it was to have his body so close to yours.

After a tumultuous journey back, the two of you finally made it back to your hotel room. You had only been in the room for a matter of seconds before Patrick collapsed onto the bed and let out a loud sigh of relief, followed by an even louder yawn, as if he was the one who had just carried you down the road.

It was annoyingly endearing. 

You had half the mind to at least get somewhat ready before getting into bed, shedding your outermost layer of clothing before joining Patrick in bed. 

“Thank you,” he said to you once you laid down next to him. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, your head still pleasantly buzzing from the alcohol. “But I’m never doing that again.”

“Aww, why? We had so much fun,” he practically whined. “I always have so much fun when we’re together.”

“I had fun, but you’re so heavy. You’d never guess it. All those muscles,” in the midst of your complaining, you reached over to grab his bicep to demonstrate his point. 

He laughed, which made you laugh, though you didn’t exactly know what you were laughing at. Then, out of the blue, he randomly said your name in a very serious tone. 

“Can you help me with something?” he asked, sounding very genuine and giving you a look that you couldn’t quite place in your drunken state. 

“Anything,” you replied earnestly and meant it. You would probably do literally anything that he asked you to do at that moment. Move a mountain? You’d start pushing. Marry him? You’d wake up an officiant and come up with vows on the spot. Help him hide a body? You were sure you could find a shovel somewhere.

“Can you help me get my shoes off?” he lifted a foot as he spoke to demonstrate his point, a little pout on his lips. You were a little disappointed that he hadn’t asked you for anything else, but you also weren’t quite sure what it was that you wanted him to ask you for. 

You groaned playfully, a long and drawn out sound that you hoped would communicate that you were exhausted after dragging him through the city and comfortable where you were laying. Still, you leaned over and untied his shoes before gently slipping them off. When you looked back up at Patrick, his pants were newly half undone and halfway off, but it looked as if he had given up fully taking his pants off. 

“Need help with that too?” you asked, though you were already working on slipping the article of clothing off of his legs.

Though you tried to push the thought out of your mind, you couldn’t help but recall a similar night the two of you shared several years ago. Your relationship was still relatively new, but you were already very obviously in love. So in love that you’d gone out of your way to set up a surprise party to celebrate a particularly successful tennis match, decorating your apartment with photos of him with trophies and other tennis paraphernalia and inviting as many of his close friends that you could track down. Still riding the high of winning and his all-consuming adoration of you, Patrick had partied a little too hard, leaving you in charge of tucking him in at the end of the night. 

After bringing him a glass of water, the man snuggled into your sheets and slurred out a comment about how they smelled like you. You felt your cheeks warm as he continued on in a disjointed ramble, talking about how much he appreciated you and how no one had ever gone out of their way to make him feel like that before. He ended his monologue with a request for you to help him take his clothes off, and you happily obliged. It was tender and far more intimate than you’d expected, and ended in a drawn out kiss that left you giggling as you told Patrick that he tasted like Smirnoff Ice. 

Even as inebriated as you currently were, the nostalgia made you feel a little dizzy. 

By the time you’d finished helping him get his pants off, Patrick had clearly given up on getting his shirt off, too. Once again, you moved your hands up his body and helped him out with the piece of fabric. 

“Look at that. All ready for bed,” you commented, setting a hand on his bare chest. The small action made your heart soar, and you promptly decided that it was probably better for you to avoid touching him altogether. 

“My watch?” Patrick asked, lifting his wrist up to show you the accessory. 

“You can take your watch off yourself,” you replied, leaning back into bed and finally laying down. 

“Fine.”

“Night, Patty,” you said, reaching over to turn out the bedside lamp. 

“Wait,” he paused pensively, as if he was digging deep in the recesses of his mind to conjure up what he was about to say. “A kiss?”

“Patrick!” you gasped, sounding far more scandalized by the proposition than you actually were. Of course you would give him a kiss, you just weren’t sure you were ready to open up that can of worms, especially after you’d had a minor crisis at the realization that he genuinely wanted to move on.

“No goodnight kiss? C’mon. Fully commit to tucking me in,” Patrick insisted, as if it was the most logical thing ever. As if either of you had the self control to not let something as simple as a kiss spiral out of control. 

“Fine,” you sighed before pressing a gentle peck to his forehead, figuring that was the safest place to do so. A forehead kiss was about as platonic as it got with you.  “Sweet dreams.”

“Thank you,” he said, rather sweetly as his eyes shut. “Love you.”

Those words instantly gave you pause, causing you to suddenly feel very alert and very sober.

“Sorry, what did you just say?”

“I said I love you?” Patrick repeated, looking at you with confusion. “What?”

“Nothing,” though it was very much not nothing. In fact, if his confession was true, it would change everything. “Go to bed.”

“Wait, what?” Patrick grabbed your arm, looking very worried in the low light of the room. “You’re mad. You’re mad that I love you?”

You didn’t even know how you were supposed to react to that admission. While it had been exactly what you’d been dying to hear from him for months, it only further complicated your already very complicated situation.

“I’m not mad, I’m… I’m just tired. Let’s go to sleep, okay?”

Your explanation seemed to placate Patrick enough to let it go and go to sleep. He shuffled around to get comfortable behind you, before pulling you in to hold you as he’d done for the entirety of the trip. Except, tonight, it didn’t feel quite right. The mixture of his frequent rejections of you, paired with his casual confession that he still loved you made your head spin. 

The following morning, you woke up with a pounding in your head and a gross taste in your mouth—only one of which, you could fully attribute to the drinking you’d done last night. You clumsily reached for your phone, and found yourself pleasantly surprised to find an announcement about the delay of the next bus you would be getting on. 

You got out of bed with a grunt, your entire body aching with the reminder of having to drag Patrick through the city last night. Somehow, the sore muscles didn’t hurt nearly as much compared to the memory of being told that Patrick still loved you. 

You slowly paced back and forth around your hotel room, desperately trying to organize your racing thoughts. Did Patrick actually mean what he said last night? Or had been caught up in the heat of the moment? If anything, the latter seemed more likely, since he’d been very obviously trying to distance himself from you. But had he really been distancing himself from you, or just talking about distancing himself from you? If his care for you on the ferry had been any indication of how he really felt about you, it was possible that his drunken words were more honest than you were trying to convince yourself that they were. 

Finally, you decided to stop annoying the person staying in the room under you with your increasingly frantic pacing, and to go outside to walk. Some fresh air would be good for you anyway. 

“Where’re you going?” a muffled voice, heavy with sleep asked. You paused the tying of your shoes to look over at the bed, where Patrick was currently squinting at you.  

“I’m just going for a walk,” you told him. “Go back to sleep. The coach is coming late.”

“Wait for me. I’ll come with you.”

That was probably the last thing you needed or wanted. After all, the whole purpose of your walk was to help you sort out your thoughts about Patrick. To say he wasn’t a welcome addition to your trip was an understatement.

“Okay,” you said anyway, against your better judgment. It seemed like you hadn’t been using much of your judgment at all on this trip. What was one more poor decision on top of a series of poor decisions?

You watched him get ready from where you were sitting, quietly impressed with his ability to get up and be functional despite surely being just as hungover—if not more—than you. He also seemed wholly unaffected by the conversation you’d had last night, which was something that you certainly couldn’t say for yourself. 

With sunglasses perched on your nose and the weight of your entire relationship placed on your shoulders, the two of you headed out into the city, walking on the same sidewalks that you’d practically carried Patrick down the previous night. 

“Last night was fun,” Patrick commented, making small talk with you as you began to head down the street. 

“Some parts,” you agreed, hoping that he’d recall you grunting as you lugged him down the street, rather than your shock when he told you that he still loved you. 

“I honestly don’t remember most of the night,” Patrick said with a chuckle that almost sounded a little forced. You couldn’t be sure if he was being honest or searching for a cop out for the things he’d told you before you went to sleep, but you weren’t sure that it really mattered.

“Unfortunately, I do,” you replied. 

“Oh no. I hope I wasn’t too much of a pain.”

“You were like, slightly above average in terms of being a pain. Nothing I’m not used to.” You figured that maybe you could banter your way out of this situation. Perhaps if you just pretended that everything was okay, things would magically become okay.

But that didn’t feel alright. In fact, it wasn’t alright. If you ever wanted to improve your relationship with Patrick, you had to stop beating around the bush with him. You were both adults. You’d been together for years, yet you felt like you wasted far too much time not being straightforward with your thoughts and feelings. If there was going to be a next time for the two of you, you wanted things to be different. 

“You did say something kinda interesting last night, though.” While it had been easy to talk up a big game in your head, you immediately regretted the words that came out of your mouth. Regardless, it was too late for you to back out. 

Patrick laughed nervously before asking, “what?”

“You just… you kinda told me you still have feelings for me, or whatever. I just think, maybe we should talk about it. Or at least talk about us.”

The man next to you paled at your words. Your regret for bringing the topic up immediately grew exponentially. 

“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about,” Patrick said, though he was lying through his teeth and both of you knew it. You wanted to approach this topic with civility and an open mind, but his blatant lie was making that a rather difficult task.

“Are you kidding? We’ve been tip-toeing around it this entire trip.”

“We’re broken up. You called off our wedding. I don’t think it gets any more straightforward than that,” he dismissed with a gross simplification of the state of your relationship.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it. And even if it was, all I said was that I didn't think I was ready to get married. You put the final nail in the coffin when you told me you fell out of love with me. But I don’t know how I’m supposed to interpret you not being in love with me anymore when you still act the way that you act with me.”

You could tell the direction this conversation was going, your discussion quickly veering into argument territory as Patrick began to invade your space as he always did when you argued. 

“And how exactly do I act with you?” he challenged, though you were sure he knew exactly what you were talking about.  

“Do you want me to give you a list or something?” you asked, his anger becoming contagious.

“Sure, why not,” he said drily. 

“Fine. Let’s start with the cuddling, then. Please enlighten me, do you know any exes who spoon regularly? I mean, I certainly don’t. I don’t even touch my friends like that. So I don’t know what that really makes us. Or maybe how jealous you got when you saw me with someone else. I really can’t think of any sort of platonic explanation for that, and trust me, I’ve tried. And while we’re at it, I guess I should mention those showers. I respect the hell out of your faith in the thickness of these hotel walls, but I actually can hear you moaning my name while you’re in there. I’m honestly a little flattered, but I’m mostly confused.”

“Like you’re not doing the same,” Patrick scoffed. You knew him well enough to recognize that he was masking his true feelings with hostility, and though you wanted to engage in an actual conversation with him, you weren’t sure you would be able to take the high road in this conversation.

“Sure, but I’m not the one in denial of what’s going on here!”

“I’m not in denial. Have you ever considered that maybe I want to move on?”

“Do you, though?” you asked, pausing on the sidewalk.

“Clearly, I do,” he stopped right along with you, now really getting in your face.

“Clearly,” you repeated with a laugh. “Maybe you should start acting like it.”

“Maybe you should stop clinging to the past.”

His piercing gaze was unwavering as he waited to read your reaction. You knew how he liked to play this game, looking for an indication of any sort of weakness from you. You refused to give him that, though his words cut deep. 

“Okay,” you said calmly, though you were very much not feeling calm on the inside. “Well, thanks for letting me know how you really feel. Or how you think you feel. I don’t really know anymore. And I don’t think you know either.”

PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC

If you had known that telling Patrick that he drunkenly confessed to loving you would’ve broken the already very delicate relationship the two of you had built back up, you never would’ve said anything at all. As it turned out, having some of Patrick was better than not having him at all.

The contempt he now felt for you had become so strong that he didn’t even seem to be able to look at you. He sat next to a different person on the bus to Prague, not even sparing you a glance. When you arrived at the hotel, he made it a point to ask for separate rooms—something the two of you hadn’t done the entirety of your trip. As your tour began, he seemed to make a strong effort to separate himself from you, standing in the back of your group when you were in the front and vice versa. 

Usually, even after your worst arguments, you’d been able to find the time to talk out your feelings, but now it seemed like Patrick couldn’t even find it in himself to give you that.

You wanted to be mad at Patrick too. You were mad at him. But you missed him more than you were angry with him, and you yearned to be with him, no matter how crazy his constant antics drove you. 

Part of you felt frustrated that your relationship had become so cyclical since your breakup. You weren’t sure you could handle another cycle of fighting to the point of real anger, then making up with your relationship still a little more strained than it was in the past. You just wanted Patrick. Why did things have to be any more complicated than that? 

You desperately clung on to any bits of hope that your relationship might persist, coming out of this argument altered, but still existing. You snuck peeks at Patrick while you toured a beautiful castle and tried to bite your tongue until you stopped thinking of how badly you wanted to grab him and joke about his home looking like that castle. You wondered if he wanted to put your initials on a lock and put it on a bridge as much as you did. You wished you could ask him if he missed the warm body in bed beside him the way you did. 

But every time you looked at him, he was pointedly not looking at you. As your group paused on the bridge to allow couples the time to make their own locks, Patrick didn’t even spare a glance in your direction. You were sure that even if he did miss you in bed, or wherever else, he would never tell you about it. 

You didn’t want it to be over—but you couldn’t keep clinging to hope that it wasn’t. 

GENEVA, SWITZERLAND

Getting to view the breathtaking scenery of the Swiss Alps as you sat on a cable car had been a dream of yours for years. What wasn’t included in that dream was dodging the glare of your ex-fiancé as the two of you sat in silence on that very gondola. 

Unluckily for the two of you, you were stuck together for the afternoon. Private skiing lessons in the Swiss Alps sounded like a great, even romantic, idea while you were planning the trip, but it was far from romantic now. 

The two of you stood on opposite sides of your instructor, the tension between you so thick that in the midst of his safety spiel, he paused to ask if everything was okay between you. After a stilted reply of yes, your instructor looked at you both skeptically before carrying on. 

Seeing as Patrick was an athlete who spent his childhood school breaks in Aspen, he was pretty decent at skiing already. Far better than you, a novice who was moving a little bit like a giraffe standing on its feet for the first time. 

While it wasn’t your first time skiing—that had been on a family vacation you’d tagged along on with the Zweigs—you certainly were not experienced enough to be keeping up with Patrick, who had the experience and the ego to give even your instructor a run for his money. 

It was entertaining to watch him in his element, his competitive side coming out despite the fact there was no competition anywhere to be found. He was significantly faster than you wherever you went, and skied with a confidence that you doubted you would ever be able to exhibit. In the past, this behavior may have been slightly endearing to you, but right now, it was mostly a little annoying. 

You and your instructor stood above Patrick, watching him effortlessly glide down the mountain in front of you. If you weren’t so agitated, you might actually have been impressed. As if your instructor was actively reading your mind, he leaned over to say something to you. 

“I think he’s trying to impress you,” he said quietly, though the subject of your conversation was an entire slope away. 

You nearly choked on your own saliva at the observation. “No way.”

“What do you mean no way?” he laughed. “Trust me, I’ve been doing this for years, and I’ve seen it all. Couples, crushes, friends, coworkers. I know posturing when I see it.”

“Trust me, he could care less.”

He looked at you with a doubting squint.  “Why don’t we go down there and ask him?”

“Absolutely not,” you laughed. The thought of asking Patrick anything after the interactions you’d had seemed absolutely ridiculous. At this point, you wouldn’t even ask him what time it was. 

“Sorry. Let me rephrase that. That was me telling you that it’s time for you to go down the slope.”

You looked downhill at where you needed to go, noting that it was far steeper than what you’d been practicing on leading up to this point. You had been looking for an excuse to stall going down it, but now that your instructor had said something about that, you couldn’t not go.

After taking a deep breath, you began to go down. Gaining a bit of speed, you also found yourself growing slightly more confident, closing your eyes and feeling the cold air press against your body. While you were enjoying your speed at first, it was quickly growing out of hand, and you began to panic as you realized just how fast you were going. Desperately trying to pull your skis into a V shape to slow down, you were horrified at the realization that you were far too late, and actively heading towards a cluster of trees. You didn’t know what to do other than to accept your fate, and everything had happened so fast anyway that you found yourself tumbling into a tree, a searing pain on your ankle and tailbone as you laid out on the rocky ground.

Everything felt like it was moving slowly and quickly at the same time. One second, you were alone in the snow, and the next, Patrick and your ski instructor were hovering over you, goggles on their foreheads as they looked at you with concern.

“Are you okay?” you were finally able to make out once the slight ringing in your ears had ceased. 

“Did you see how hard she crashed? Of course she isn’t fucking okay,” Patrick’s voice huffed, though slightly muffled from your helmet covering your ears.

“My ankle,” you said, as if that gave them enough context. You wondered if they could see the tears beginning to pool under your goggles. The pair looked at your limb, though with your snowsuit covering it, they really couldn’t see much. 

“Can you walk?” your instructor asked you. 

“I haven’t tried, but I’m gonna go with no.”

“We’re gonna have someone check you out. Don’t worry, they’ll be here soon,” your ski instructor told you. You blinked a few times and mustered all the strength you could to nod. 

The longer you sat, the more you began to realize how badly everything hurt. From your head down to your surely swollen ankle, you weren’t feeling too hot. You closed your eyes, suddenly feeling very exhausted. Maybe a quick little nap was exactly what you needed to feel a little better.

“Hey, don’t do that. You hit your head pretty hard when you fell, so you might have a concussion.”

“I don’t, I’m just tired,” you explained, though you didn’t know for a fact that it was true. In fact, with the pounding in your head, you more likely than not had a mild concussion. 

“Well, you kinda have to stay awake,” Patrick told you, though he surely knew it was easier said than done. You were surprised when you felt his gloved hand take yours and squeezed your hand softly. “Hey, why don’t you tell us a story?” he suggested, clearly just trying to keep you awake.

“Do you wanna hear the story about how he proposed to me?” you asked the instructor. You weren’t sure why that was the first thing to pop into your head, but it was a long enough story to keep you awake until help arrived. You wished your goggles were slightly less tinted, so you could at least see the scandalized expression Patrick was probably making. You loved when you made him react like that, since the roles were usually reversed. 

“Well, yeah. Of course,” your instructor responded with a hint of a laugh. “You guys are engaged?” he directed towards Patrick.

“This is our honeymoon,” you replied before Patrick had an opportunity to respond. You wished you could see the confused look that your instructor was surely making.

“So what happened?”

“When he proposed?” you asked to clarify. 

“...Sure.”

“Well, for a little context, Patrick here is a professional tennis player. He’s really good too. So given my athletic ability, as you got to see today, I never really played with him. Like, he would always ask me to just play a fun, quick little round and I would always tell him no. Mostly because I knew he would crush me. I did play a little bit back in the day, but I was nowhere near his level. I mostly preferred to be on the sideline while we dated. I mean, I came to every single one of his games. I’m pretty sure my office introduced remote work to us because of me, since I was traveling all the time to see him.

“Anyway, one day, after a day of buttering me up, and I mean, he was really laying it on thick. I don’t know how I didn’t think something was up,” you laughed as you recalled the day, how Patrick had scheduled a nail appointment for you, then wined and dined you during a very romantic midday picnic. “But he asked me to play a little bit of tennis with him. I think I just thought he spent the day buttering me up so that I would play tennis with him, not that I would agree to marry him, but I digress. 

“We get to the tennis court and Patrick’s nervous like I’ve never seen him. He was a little jittery all day, but this was a different beast. Looking back, I really don’t understand why. He should’ve known I was going to say yes. Anyway, we’re playing, and somehow I win, even though I’m extremely rusty and have absolutely awful form. Obviously I knew Patrick threw the match for me, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t gonna gloat at him. 

“So I’m doing my victory spiel and I walk over to his side of the court, where he’s digging in his bag. He’s so quiet, which should’ve been a sign that something was up, and I’m thinking he’s about to pull out more tennis balls and tell me we’re doing a rematch, so he can really crush me. Instead, he pulls out a box and gets down on one knee. He gives me a speech about how he didn’t care if he never won another game of tennis in his life, because as long as we were together, he was a winner. It was really sweet. Obviously I said yes.”

You finally looked over at Patrick, though you couldn’t perfectly read his expression through the darkened lens of your goggles. You wondered if he felt any of the same feelings that were currently simmering in your own chest. Though, you didn’t get to stew too long, as help arrived just as your story came to a close. 

You were taken to an infirmary and given a series of tests, some to see the state of your head and other to see how the rest of your body was doing. Surprisingly, you made it out without too much serious damage. Your ankle was sprained, but nothing that would make it take too long to heal. You had a concussion, which surprised you, given your ability to recall so many details earlier in the day, but it was a very mild one. At least you’d made it back into your hotel in one piece. 

You really just wanted to relax for the rest of the evening, and you had plans to do exactly that, when there was suddenly a soft rapping at your door. 

You got up, and with help from the crutches you were provided, you hobbled to the door and opened it. On the other side was Patrick, who you were both surprised and unsurprised to see. 

“Hey. I got your room number from the front desk,” Patrick told you. “Do you mind if I come in?”

“Sure, but I’m probably going to sleep soon,” with some effort, you sidestepped the doorway to let him in.

“Do you need anything? Want anything?” he asked as he made himself at home in your room, evaluating what you already had. 

“I’m good, I think.”

“How’re you feeling? They wouldn’t let me see you at the infirmary.”

“I’ve been better,” you shrugged, sitting down on the foot of your bed to take some pressure off of your aching ankle. 

“I bet. Are you icing that?” he asked, gesturing to your most obvious injury. 

“I haven’t been able to make it out to the ice machine,” you confessed, though the doctor had suggested ice for the inflammation. 

“Let me go grab some for you,” he said before disappearing out into the hallway. Once he left, you laid back in bed, letting out a sigh of relief at how much better being flat felt. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like being taken care of this way. It seemed like no matter how bad things got between the two of you, you would always care for one another in some capacity. You wondered what had gone through Patrick’s mind when he saw you hurt yourself. You wondered if that changed anything in the way he felt about you. 

He knocked on the door once more to tell you he was back, though the door was already unlocked. 

“If there’s anything else you need, I mean anything at all, just call me. I’m just down the hall from you,” he told you as he bagged up the ice he retrieved. 

He sat down on the foot of the bed, where you’d previously been sitting, and tenderly set the bag of ice on your ankle, clearly not wanting to hurt you any more than you were already hurt. He looked at you a little sadly before standing back up, not wanting to linger in your presence too long. 

“I’ll let you get some sleep,” he explained, already turning to head towards the door. 

“Thanks, Patrick,” you paused, looking for any other words you had for him. “Good night.”

“Night.”

SOMEWHERE IN ITALY

The next few days in Switzerland had been extremely boring. Due to doctor’s orders, you mainly stayed in bed, avoiding screens by reading books, and looking out the window to view the mountains that you were currently missing. 

Although you had to miss a lot of the fun your tour was going on, like a cheese and chocolate tour, you somehow still received an anonymous delivery of cheeses and chocolates—though, you were pretty sure you knew who was responsible for that. 

Patrick didn’t seem like he wanted to overstep any boundaries, which you respected, though you really could’ve used some company whose ear you could talk off. Hell, you’d even take another nasty argument over the resounding silence of your room. 

Luckily for you, by the time your group was traveling once again, you were starting to feel slightly better, concussion and ankle-wise. Though, your head was starting to hurt from listening to a person at the front of the bus go on about how much they needed the bus to pull over somewhere. 

After a period of incessant complaining from someone on your bus, the vehicle finally came to a stop at a small rest stop in the middle of the Italian countryside. 

Not willing to pass up an opportunity to stretch your legs, you got off at the stop, briefly stopping inside the building to look at what they had to offer before stepping behind the building, watching the wind blow through the overgrown weeds. 

Your attempt at enjoying the quiet, idyllic countryside was disturbed when you were joined by a smoking companion. 

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he said. 

Before you could stop it, a sad smile appeared on your face. The two of you hadn’t spoken since your brief conversation in your hotel room, despite the mystery snack deliveries and the promise of coming if you called.

“I’ve been worried about you,” he said plainly.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” you dismissed. 

“You’ve spent the last few days all alone in a room with a concussion.”

“It’s mild.”

“You fucked up your ankle.”

“It’s healing. It’s not all that bad.”

“Well, I’ve been worried anyway,” he passed you his partially smoked cigarette and you took a drag from it, though you were sure that was one of the things you shouldn’t be doing with a concussion. 

“Thanks, I guess.” you said. “So is this just a wellness check, or…?”

“No, well, yes. Obviously I was worried about you physically, but I also was wondering about how you were in general.”

It was strange to see him clumsily mince his words, given how bold he usually was.

“Oh? What changed between here and Germany?”

“What changed? What changed was that I watched you almost die.”

You laughed aloud at his over dramatization of the event. “Patrick, I did not almost die.”

“How would I have known that? I just saw you flying downhill out of control and crashing and it terrified me. I couldn’t imagine a world without you in it.”

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to interpret his words, especially after the wild ride you’d been on throughout the trip. You weren’t sure you could handle another emotional bait and switch. 

“Pat, maybe we should talk about this later. The bus is probably taking off soon.”

“No,” he stopped you with a hand on your arm, calling you back with a desperation you hadn’t seen in him in a long time. “I don’t want to waste another second without you.”

“Okay,” you said, though you weren’t sure that you should buy into it yet. “Go ahead, then.”

“I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want you or don’t want to be with you,” he confessed, which genuinely took you by surprise. With the way he’d been dodging your attempts at building a connection, you certainly didn’t think he’d tell you something like that. 

“Then why have you been pretending?” you asked, hoping that your somewhat harsh words didn’t betray your genuine curiosity behind his behavior. 

“I don’t know,” he said. It was a terrible, unsatisfying answer. One that didn’t explain a single reason behind his behavior. “I guess I just can’t wrap my head around the idea that anyone would want to keep me around long-term.”

You looked at him with shock in your eyes, your mouth slightly agape at the confession. You couldn’t imagine Patrick, overconfident, bold, and self-assured, who you’d been dating for years, not feeling secure in your relationship–to the point where he’d been actively trying to push you away out of anticipating how you’d feel about him.

“When you told me you weren’t ready to be with me, it just confirmed everything I’d been worried about—that one day you would wake up next to me and realize that I wasn’t the guy you wanted. I guess it just happened sooner than I anticipated.”

You almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “If you felt like that, then why’d you tell me you weren’t in love with me anymore?”

“I thought if you were gonna leave me anyway, I might as well beat you to the punch.”

You were giving it your all to keep it together at this point, feeling slightly vindicated to know that Patrick was lying about no longer loving you, but mostly devastated that your whole relationship had been uprooted over an assumption that Patrick had made about you. 

“I… I don’t even know what to say,” you looked out into the grass, then back at Patrick. “I wish you’d stop assuming that you know what I want all the time.”

“Hey you two, last call for the coach,” your tour guide suddenly interrupted, looking very obviously annoyed that the two of you were holding the bus up. 

“Sorry. We’ll head back now,” you apologized to the guide. “We’ll continue this conversation later?” you directed towards Patrick. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. 

VENICE, ITALY

Putting a hold on your conversation probably wasn’t the wisest idea you’d ever had, considering that your next few days in Italy were set to be your busiest this far. 

Between gondola rides on different boats and exploring historic palaces, the two of you didn’t have much time to stop and have as serious of a talk as you wanted to have. Even if you did somehow manage to pick up where you’d left off, there were so many people around you that it didn’t even feel worth it. 

Luckily for you, your hotel had a private beach attached to it, and as you spent your evening by the beach, watching the sun go down, you were pleased to find that you were joined by familiar company. 

At first, Patrick didn’t say anything as he sat down on the same chair next to you. The two of you enjoyed the serene sunset and privacy that the beach afforded you in silence, though you were sure that things wouldn’t stay that way for long. 

“I love you, you know?” he finally piped up, breaking the silence with a very bold declaration. 

You looked at him calmly, though you weren’t feeling very calm on the inside. You’d been waiting to hear those words from him from the moment that the two of you broke up. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to react to it now, though the confession was better late than never. 

“I love you too. I never stopped,” you told him simply, as if the realization that you were stuck on him hadn’t been haunting you for months now.

“I never did, either. It was cruel of me to ever tell you that I did.”

You nodded in agreement, wondering if Patrick would ever understand the full extent of the damage his words had done to you. “It was, but I understand where you were coming from. If I had known that you didn’t think I was going to stick around, I would’ve gone about what I did differently,” you began to explain. “I think it came across as me not wanting to marry you at all. Of course I wanted to marry you. There was just so much else going on in my life then that the timing didn’t feel right.”

“But the timing might be right someday?” Patrick asked, a hopeful lilt in his voice. 

“The timing will be right someday. Maybe sooner than either of us know,” you shot him a wink, then broke into a grin as he pulled you into a firm, loving embrace. 

ATHENS, GREECE 

The rest of your time in Italy mainly consisted of making up for lost time, with the two of you partaking in far more PDA than what was ever necessary and thoroughly documenting your time abroad together as a couple. 

Thanks to your injury, you were slightly slower than the rest of your group. But that certainly didn’t stop Patrick from lagging along with you, letting you lean on him for support when you needed it and pausing to sit and take breaks with you whenever you noticed that walking was taking too much of a toll on you.

It was nice to be back with him, to not have to feel stupid for feeling what you felt or feel the pressure of knowing that you should probably be trying to move on. The only unfortunate part was how little time the two of you had left on vacation, with you heading home after spending a few days in Athens. If only the two of you had been upfront about your feelings earlier, then you could’ve been having as great of a time as you were having now during your entire trip. 

The two of you briefly floated the idea of having somewhat of a shotgun wedding, but scrapped it after realizing that you would prefer to have your family and friends there to celebrate with you. After all, many of them had been on the emotional rollercoaster that was your relationship right along with you. 

For the time being, the two of you were perfectly content with being together, and knowing that neither of you had any intentions of leaving. 

Somehow, that made your last few days of vacation feel infinitely better. 

ATHENS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

You scrolled endlessly on your phone, sending out a few messages to friends and family to let them know that you were heading back home. While you typically felt a few nerves before boarding a plane anywhere, you couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of excitement, both at the thought of being able to go back home and sleep in your own bed, and at the potential your newly reformed relationship had. 

Your scrolling was interrupted by Patrick’s presence, carrying a coffee and a breakfast sandwich in his hands with a slightly goofy look on his face. 

“Sorry for taking so long. I think everyone and their mother wanted coffee today,” he explained as he sat down, passing you your items as he got comfortable next to you. 

“No worries. I’m just glad you were running late to grab us breakfast, instead of trying to switch our seats like last time.”

The two of you shared a laugh before Patrick said, “That feels like a lifetime ago.”

“It basically was,” you dismissed. 

Once it was announced that your group was boarding, the two of you stood up quickly, attempting to gather your bearings before getting on the plane. 

“‘Till next time, Europe,” you bid the country goodbye as the two of you made your way to the line. 

“Should we come back to Europe? I was thinking our next honeymoon should be somewhere else. Maybe Bali.”

“Oooh, Bali sounds nice. I think anywhere warm and with a beach is good,” you explained, though you really didn’t care where you went, as long as Patrick was there by your side.

[khjswifey]

{Forever You Are My Star} [K.HJ]

Kim Hongjoong x Atiny!Reader

Idol Au, Long distance relationship au

After two long years of dating, you finally get to meet you boyfriend and at your favorite group's concert too! But hold on...the leaders voice sounds a bit familiar.

A/N: I hope you all enjoy my first fanfic! I want to continue this lil au, and possible make more for the other members! Let me know if you would be interested in that, Other than that:

Happy Reading!

Tags: @soobinshouseplant

𓂂 ♱⠀◌ ⠀◯ ⭑ ⸱ ៰ ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂 ♱⠀◌ • 𓂂 ♱⠀◌ ⠀◯ ⭑ ⸱ ៰ ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂 ♱⠀◌ •

“Hey Baby..”

“Hiii…”

A soft chuckle filtered through your phone speaker. 

“I’m sorry for calling you so late…”

“Joon, that’s completely fine, You know I stay up late anyways…”

You hear a sigh before he begins to talk again.

“Baby.?”

“Yeah?”

“You still live in (city name), right?”

“Yea, why do you ask?” You asked, curiosity/excitement lacing your tone. Your boyfriend chuckles at you, “Well, we’ll finally be able to meet!” You gasped in excitement, nearly falling off your bed.

You and your boyfriend, Joon, had been dating for about 2 years now, and yes it was a long distance relationship.

The two of you had met online through your art twitter. You did a lot of fanart of your favorite kpop group, Ateez, as well as tattoo ideas. The tattoo designs are what introduced you to your loving boyfriend.

He replied under one of your posts, interested in commissioning a design and it has been you and him against the world ever since. 

Yes, you don’t know how he looks, and he may have various different pictures of you, but you put all your trust in him and you highly doubted he was a catfish.

He always showered you with gifts, and always called you when he got the time to. He rarely showed his face, but you saw his desk and his work area.

You believed he was real and you were excited at the prospect of finally being able to meet him.

“I can tell you’re excited…” Joon started, “I am too..I can’t wait to hold you…” You felt your face heat up as you heard him mumble something in Korean under his breath. 

“What was that?”

“I said I can’t wait to hold you and have you whimpering underneath me, Jagi..”

You squealed in embarrassment as you slammed your phone on the bed. You heard him laughing at you before calling your name.

The two of you sat in silence for a little while after that, nothing but the soft clicking of your boyfriend's laptop coming through the speakers. He finally spoke up again with a little chuckle.

“Well…I bought you a concert ticket…” 

“Joon!”

“What? I thought it was a good idea since we both like concerts~!”

You only hummed in response, not having the time to argue with him tonight, your phone pinged and you sighed.

“I’ll see you in two days!”

“See you~”

Your phone hung up and you went to check your Ticketmaster account, your eyes widened,

You got the tickets! -

X1 Atiny VIP Ticket

My future husband: You’re welcome~

My future husband: I love you.

𓂂  ♱⠀◌  ⠀◯  ⭑ ⸱ ៰  ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂  ♱⠀◌ • 𓂂  ♱⠀◌  ⠀◯  ⭑ ⸱ ៰  ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂  ♱⠀◌ •

“Y/n, how do you know he will be there?’

“Don’t you think you’re being used..’

You groaned at your friend. “F/n. I don’t think a catfish would drop the money for this ticket like that. It was expensive.”

“So!? Maybe he’ll try to use a little money to kidnap you!”

You grew frustrated as you did your makeup. You had told F/n about what had happened and to make sure you were safe, she was coming along.

F/n was never supportive of your relationship, always judging you for ‘wasting’ your time on a dude that you are only just now meeting. But you also couldn’t blame her, girls did go missing when meeting their online boyfriends. But no matter how you tried to convince her, she wouldn’t listen to you. She didn’t even like Ateez! So she was basically wasting her money.

“What if he’s lying to you about his identity-”

“That’s enough, F/n!!” You yelled at her, finally snapping from the constant negative comments. “If you wanna come then come. But if you’re not going to shut the fuck up already!” 

F/n stared at you in shock. “How dare you? I’m trying to keep you from getting catfished!!” She yelled back and you rolled your eyes pushing past her, grabbing your bag. 

You got your keys and looked at her, “Find your own ride to the damn concert. Don’t bother being around me.” You said leaving her behind.

You were actually surprised she even still came to the concert. You glared at her and she gave you an apologetic look when she caught up to you. 

When you walked into (venue name), you beamed with excitement. Not only were you going to finally meet your boyfriend, you got to see your all time favorite kpop group!

It was refreshing to be around fellow Atiny, you chatted with several around you in the pit. You ended up getting real close from you leaving early. Your blood was pumping through your body when the lights finally dimmed. You screamed as you watched as the members of Ateez came onto the stage.

It felt unreal, it didn’t feel real at all. You couldn’t believe that you were finally here. A couple of songs had gone by when you finally found the time to let your boyfriend know where you were. But you were shocked to see a message from him around 2 years ago that simply said;

“Look at the stage.”

When you looked back up, you locked eyes with Kim Hongjoong, the leader of Ateez, your bias, your Ult bias to be exact. His eyes were locked on you as he introduced himself to the crowd. Your brain froze. 

When he spoke, his voice sounded familiar, and not just from you listening to music. No it was like you knew him on a personal level.

“F/n…” You said, capturing your friends' attention, concerned at your tone. “What’s wrong? Is it that boy?” She asked.

You looked back up to the stage, watching as Ateez prepared for their next set of songs.

“I think my boyfriend is the leader of Ateez..”

“...You mean as a joke right…?”

“....”

“...oh…”

𓂂  ♱⠀◌  ⠀◯  ⭑ ⸱ ៰  ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂  ♱⠀◌ • 𓂂  ♱⠀◌  ⠀◯  ⭑ ⸱ ៰  ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂  ♱⠀◌ •

“What do you mean you think your boyfriend is a member of Ateez!?” 

It was after the concert, and you were instructed by your boyfriend to meet him afterwards backstage. All you had to do was tell the security your name and they led you to where you were now.

F/n was very skeptical and was weary about leaving you alone, but after a while of convincing she finally left, making sure she had you added on Life360 just in case.

You stood there waiting, watching as various staff members worked around you. You were starting to think that he wasn’t going to come at all.

You looked down at your phone and sighed, turning to leave.

“Baby!” 

You whip around to find the owner of the voice, and lo and behold it was Kim Hongjoong. He was now dressed comfortably, makeup gone and a soft blush on his face with a lazy smile.

You smile wide and run up to him, nearly tackling him to the ground with a hug. He laughs and wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly as if you were going to vanish if he let go.

When he did let go, he pulled away a bit to place a kiss on your lips. You melted into his grasp only pulling away when you needed air from the male. 

The two of you looked at each other for a while. One half of you wanted to fight him for lying to you, but you knew he had his reasons, but the other was so happy that he was real and that he was not only your idol, but your lover.

“Hongjoongie…” You mumbled, hiding your face in his chest.

He chuckled as he held you close to him, “It’s so nice to hear you say my name…” He replied, finally pulling away.

When he did, he held your hands and swung them back and forth. He looked like a lovesick puppy, his eyes filled with love and adoration.

“Do you have anywhere else to go?...” 

“No not really…”

“Well…could you maybe come back with me?”

You giggle at his bashfulness, nodding. “Of course, You have a lot of explaining to do..”

Hongjoong smiles before pulling you along with him.

𓂂  ♱⠀◌  ⠀◯  ⭑ ⸱ ៰  ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂  ♱⠀◌ • 𓂂  ♱⠀◌  ⠀◯  ⭑ ⸱ ៰  ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂  ♱⠀◌ •

Hongjoong paid for your visit to his hotel room, not leaving until he made sure you were safely on your way.

When you got there, you finally got to meet the other members, it was surreal for you. Just yesterday you were catching up on missed content, laughing as you watched Ateez go about their antics. Now you are meeting them and apparently dating their leader.

To say you were nervous would be an understatement, you were nearly shitting bricks. 

But it actually went over well, Hongjoong introduced you to them one by one. You happily introduced yourself, shaking their hands until you got to Wooyoung, who had a smug grin.

“You’re really pretty. No wonder cap-” He was cut off by Hongjoong flinging something at him. You giggled at this as the rest of the evening with the boys went fine. It was spent with you explaining how you met Hongjoong, talking about how much you loved their music and how you really appreciated how nice they were being to him.

Later on, Hongjoong led you to his room, which you tilted your head at.

“I thought you guys shared rooms when you went on tour?”

“We do, the guys wanted to give us privacy though..”

You felt your face heat up as you walked over and flopped on the bed. Hongjoong then joined you, leaning his head on your stomach.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, basking in the silence before he spoke up.

“I’m sorry…” He started, moving to sit up, you moved to sit up at the head board. 

“Hon-”

“I’m sorry for not telling you who I was y/n…I was scared…” He admits and it hurt your heart with how he avoided eye contact. He sighed before finally turning to you.

“When I found out you were an Atiny..I got scared. I thought you were only gonna like me because of who I am on stage…” You watched him carefully as he continued. 

“I thought you weren’t gonna love me for me…So I hid it. It’s why I rarely showed my face when we talked. But when I saw your face…” Hongjoong reached over to cup your cheek, eyes misty. You felt your own tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to fall.

“Hongjoong…” You started moving closer to the male, your faces barely touching. “I’m in love with you…all of you…the Idol you and the normal you. Yes I may be an Atiny, but I love you. Not your career.” You say softly leaning on him. 

“I was worried…that you wouldn’t like me once you met me. That you would’ve thought I was a weirdo or that-mmph!” Your rant was cut off by Hongjoong kissing you, he pulled you into his arms, your eyes widened as he silenced you. They eventually fluttered closed as he deepened the kiss, only pulling away to hide his face in the crook of your neck.

“You’re always loved by me…I trust you y/n..”

A small smile ghosted across your features as the two of you stayed that way for a while.

You felt at peace knowing that you could now love both forms of him..

𓂂  ♱⠀◌  ⠀◯  ⭑ ⸱ ៰  ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂  ♱⠀◌ • 𓂂  ♱⠀◌  ⠀◯  ⭑ ⸱ ៰  ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂  ♱⠀◌ •

You were sad when you had to say goodbye to your boyfriend. One night was definitely not enough time for you to get all what you had to say to him off your chest.

And there was obviously a lot more that Hongjoong wanted to do, but that would have to wait for the next time you would meet.

So when you got home, you were watching through your concert footage when you got a notification.

‘Ateez_official_ has made a post’

You clicked it and felt your heart do a mini flip.

‘[#Hong_stagram] Forever you are my star ❤️’

It was a black and white picture of the two of you holding hands with the caption;

‘[#Hong_stagram] Forever you are my star <3’

𓂂  ♱⠀◌  ⠀◯  ⭑ ⸱ ៰  ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂  ♱⠀◌ • 𓂂  ♱⠀◌  ⠀◯  ⭑ ⸱ ៰  ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂  ♱⠀◌ •

[stvrni0lo]

𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

nick sturniolo x platonic!reader (fluff)

summary: reader is having a hard time so they turn to nick for comfort

warnings/notes: reader has long hair, not proofread

requested?: yes!

> > >

You had been feeling like shit for what felt like forever. Nothing you did seemed to turn out right, and you were stressed for seemingly no reason. Everything you did to try and make you feel better had turned out to be in vain. You still felt absolutely horrible.

One person who could always put a smile on your face no matter what was Nick.

He could always cheer you up on your worst days, and if not he acted as a listening ear whenever you needed. He was a really good friend - your best friend.

Therefore as soon as you called him, he had dragged Matt with him to come pick you up immediately. That was one thing you appreciated about him - he was fiercely loyal and stood by his friends, no questions asked.

Dragging you up to his room, he sat you on his bed.

“Okay, tell me what’s wrong,” he said. “And don’t say nothing - you were practically sobbing on the phone.”

You took a second to think. What was wrong? Nothing particularly grueling was going on in your life.

“I honestly don’t know. I just feel stressed for no reason,” you admitted, shoulder slouching slightly.

It was nice to finally be in his room. It was kind of like your safe haven away from the world. There was nowhere more relaxing than just hanging out with Nick.

He sat down next to you, hugging his arm around your shoulder.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

You just shrugged in response. You honestly felt sort of bad. He was trying to help, and you were only bringing the mood down by being so negative.

An idea popped into his head.

“Sit on the floor,” he instructed.

Giving him a weird side look, he rolled his eyes. You had no idea what was going on his brain. At least his floor was clean though.

“Just do it, please.”

You shifted your weight off the bed, sitting criss-crossed on the floor in-front of his bed. The bed creaked as he leaned over, opening his drawer and pulling out a hairbrush. He sat behind you and took your hair out of it’s messy ponytail.

He ran his hands through it a few times, untying some of the knots before he began brushing.

“My mom used to do this,” you said, eyes closing.

Nick smiled before responding. “Me too. Before I went bald.”

You laughed slightly at the memory of him with shaved hair. The stress had already began to lift off your shoulders.

The sound of your knots breaking could be heard as Nick gently combed through it, running his hands along to make sure it was neatly done.

“Can I try braid your hair?” he asked, “Madi taught me how but I still need practice.”

You nodded silently, enjoying the quietness of the room.

Your eyelids began to feel heavy as you felt his hands part your hair into three sections. He worked slowly, not wanting to break your relaxed state. If there was one thing about Nick, it’s that he was incredibly good at reading people, and right now he knew you just needed someone to be there - not to talk, but to sit in silence with you as you pondered.

“I remember once that you said you liked when people played with your hair,” he said as he finished up the last few pieces of the braid.

“That was forever ago.”

He grabbed your hair tie off his wrist from when he took your hair down and tied up your plaited hair.

“Yeah but I always remember what you tell me. That’s why I’m your favorite friend,” he replied jokingly.

You scoffed playfully at him, leaning your hand back to feel your hair. It was surprisingly neat, but when you went to look in the mirror you burst out laughing.

“Nick, what is that?”

He feigned a look of offense. “It’s quite obviously a braid.”

You shook your head at him, laughing at the abomination on the back of your head. After taking a picture of it, you sat back down onto the bed, still in disbelief at what he had done to your hair.

“You definitely need more practice,” you said.

“This is how you treat me after I just did your hair for you?”

Raising your eyebrow at him, you replied. “I can hardly call that ‘doing my hair’”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving his hand at you. “Now get into bed and we can watch a movie.”

Pulling the hair tie off the end of your hair, you crawled into bed. You snuggled into one of his pillows as he turned off the light, grabbing his laptop and sitting next to you.

“Seriously though, thank you,” you said.

“Anytime.”

You both fell asleep with a random disney movie playing in the background. Finally, you felt relieved and fully rested. You could always trust Nick to brighten your day.

- - -

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@lollibumblebee

@d0wnt0wnstu4n1ol0

@gracietaylorsversions

@20nugs

@thetriplets3

@stxrniqlo

@sunshinewwx

[justmeinadaze]

Ghost in the Machine Part 2 (Eddie X You)

A/N: It seems I need Daddy Eddie lately <3

Warnings: Daddy Rockstar Eddie and Fem Stripper Sub Reader, SMUT, degrading, dirty talk, FLUFF, ANGST, reader mentions that she doesn't talk with her parents, fears about releasing control, Eddie doesn't push her (He's a sweet boy), mentions of their jobs and the negatives. Nothing too dramatic in this one.

They do have a text conversation in the beginning and Eddie's is in red.

Word Count 4511

Part 1 Here

“Good morning, pretty girl. Or afternoon rather. I don’t know. All I know is I’m up.”

“Anyway, I just wanted to say I hope you have a good day and we should be finished by about 7. See you later!”

You smile at the messages Eddie had sent you wondering if you should reply. You didn’t want to seem too eager but you didn’t want him to think you didn’t care. 

Ugh! What is it about this man that is making me think shit like this?

Throwing your phone aside, you decide to not respond and go about your day like you normally would. The problem was you didn’t have anything to do. After taking a shower and making lunch you found yourself sitting on your couch zoning out as you scrolled through the tv. After a while you gave up, throwing the remote on the table, and grabbing your laptop. 

I shouldn’t look him up. We’re going to talk later and what’s online probably isn’t all true anyway. 

Sighing, you guiltily type his name in the search bar and browse what comes up. 

As to be expected, a lot of information about Corroded Coffin came up first. You skimmed through regular bio pieces about how they formed and how excited they were when their first single became popular. A few had videos attached that you played, watching how Eddie behaved. He was slightly reserved during each interview, trying not to sound nervous as he spoke. When you found some videos with fans, however, his whole demeanor changed. He became so much more animated and smiled wide as he talked to people especially little kids who had on Corroded Coffin t-shirts. 

There were a few tabloid reports about actresses he supposedly dated or slept with. One article had a blinding white light flash in his face as he tried to shoo away the people taking the photo. One of the articles had a video of him being thrown into a cop car, sticking out his tongue as they drove away. 

Is this who he really is?

You began feeling yourself get antsy forcing you to click away from articles like that and scroll through his social media. It looks like the only thing he had was an Instagram he barely used however a lot of the pictures he did have made you smile. There was one fairly recently with him standing next to an older gentleman who was wearing a shirt with their band name as they both stood backstage at what you assumed was one of their concerts. Eddie was holding up the rock & roll symbol as the other man was mid laugh. 

Your phone suddenly dinged as a message came through. 

“Hey sweetheart. We’re taking a little break here but we’re almost done so I should be there in about an hour or so. Is that ok?”

“Yeah, Eddie. No problem.”

Closing your device, you began to get ready for your visit from a famous rockstar. 

#####

Eddie smiled wide as you giggled at his story about the shoot. When he showed up, his hair was relatively styled and he was wearing some light make up they put on him. While you two ate the food he brought, he regaled you with stories of other photo shoots that had been way more chaotic as well as some stories from the road. 

He did make a mental note that you didn’t respond with stories of your own or even say anything really. You continued to grin as you sat there nodding your head and intently listening in as you hung on to his every word. 

“Well, sweetheart, as much as I enjoy talking about myself, I’d love to know a bit more about you.”

“Oh, there isn’t much to tell.” 

His eyes scanned over you as you took a sip of your drink, avoiding his gaze. “Why do I doubt that?”

“Good question because you shouldn’t.” The metalhead tilts his head to your remark, relishing your sassy tone. “Honestly, there isn’t much to me. I moved here, I strip. I’m broke so I signed up for the ‘side business’ and now I’m here.”

“Mhmm and before you moved here?”

“I lived somewhere else.”

“Where?”

“None of your fucking business.” 

This time Eddie’s eyes narrowed as he glared in your direction. Sass, he loved, but out right disrespect was something completely different.

“Look at me. I said look at me, little girl!” His voice raised as you turned away from him at his first request. “I can handle your attitude but you will treat me with respect and not fucking talk to me like that. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.”, you sneer through clenched teeth. 

He weighs the options of forcing you to say it correctly. You weren’t technically his yet but you had let it flow so freely from your lips last night that he considered giving you a bit more of a taste of what a relationship with him would be like or at least the kind he preferred. 

“Good.”, Eddie exhales. “Y/N, I’m not trying to pry but I’m not one of your clients or whatever. I genuinely just want to learn more about you.” He notices you soften slightly so he jumps on the opportunity. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t we play a game.”

“Game?”

“Yeah, a game. Think of it like twenty questions. I imagine you did some snooping today before I came over which I also assume has you wanting to ask some questions of your own. Ask me anything you want and I swear I’ll answer but in return I would like you to do the same.”

When your eyes find his chocolate ones again, you can’t help but smile at him. He seemed so sincere and you already told him you struggle with releasing control like that so you thought he would know how to guide you through while getting you to slowly open up. You finally nod and his grin grows.

“Ladies first.”

“Oh, I feel special.”, you smirk. “Ok, um, on your Instagram there’s a picture of you backstage with an older man. Is that your dad?”

Eddie blinks as he scoots a little closer to you. “Interesting. Before I answer, may I ask why out of all the questions, THAT is your first one?”

“You seemed different next to him, happier. It made me the most curious.”

“Fair enough. Wayne was very much like a dad but he’s my uncle. He raised me for a good chunk of my life.” He gnawed on the inside of his cheek. “Do you get along with your family?”

“Define ‘family’.”

“How about we stick with mom and dad for now?”

Swallowing, you push down the urge to tell him to fuck off. “My parents and I haven’t talked in a very long time.”

He nods before taking a sip of the beer in his hand. “Yeah, I know how you feel.”

Eddie’s eyes briefly flash that same glint of loneliness you noticed after he gave you his phone to put your number in. Your brain runs through multiple topics to ask, fearing that if you stay on your current one, he’ll want to dig more into your history or he’ll continue to be hurt by his own. 

“Your turn, sweetheart.”

“I’m scared.”

His eyes immediately locked with yours as he searched with concern. “Of me?”

“No. I told you last night I struggle with letting go of control. A lot of my history…my life…I’ve kept to myself and never really talked about it. I get the vibe that your kind of the same. I don’t want you to be hurt or force yourself to tell me things.”

Eddie turns his body a bit more to face you as he speaks. “Y/N, you’re right. I don’t go around talking about my history because it’s not something people need to know especially since 99% of the people that walk into my life walk right back out again. But…I don’t know, baby. Maybe I’m just really hoping you’ll stay.”

You pleasantly sighed at his last sentence and he smiled in your direction. 

“How about this? How about we talk shop. I tell you what I’m looking for in a relationship and vice versa.”

“Can we still do the questions? Because I have a few there.” Eddie’s grin grows as he nods. “You said you want to talk care of me. What exactly would that entail?”

“Everything, I guess. I want to talk with you about things like our days or anything really. I want you to feel comfortable being open with me not just emotionally and mentally but physically.  I want to kiss you till your lips are numb. I want to make you cum till you beg me to stop and then some. I really want to handcuff you to my mattress and fuck your tight little pussy till you can’t walk straight.”

Your eyes closed as you tried to control your breathing. 

“Was that too much?”

“No, no. I, um, so this wouldn’t be…intimate?”

Eddie blinked again as his head tilted. “Define intimate.”

“Are you going to get jealous about men at my job?”

“Are you when it comes to mine and other women?” You shake your head and he nods. “No I won’t get jealous but I want you to know that…you at least don’t have to do that ‘side business’ anymore. I can help you if you need money for anything.”

“Eddie, I can’t take advantage of you like that.”

“How about you think about it this way? Instead of fucking multiple men, you’ll only be fucking me. I can give you however much you usually make in a night and then some.”

It’s your turn to nod as you push some hair back behind your ear.

“Is there anything you don’t like, Y/N? Something I should steer clear of.”

“Don’t…hurt me. I mean I like it rough but not too rough you know?”

“Gotcha. So no canes, flogs, or any of that other stuff?”, he playfully smiles. 

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“What?! Pretty girl like you in your field doesn’t know about that side of the BDSM spectrum?”, he asks in a lighthearted tone making you laugh. 

“What about you? Anything I should avoid?”

“A couple. One I’m a little steadfast on, the other has some wiggle room.” Eddie takes a sip from his drink before placing it on your coffee table. “I, um, I struggle with being touched. I spend so much time getting grabbed on day in and day out sometimes I just need a minute.”

“I understand that.” His eyes shift to you as he watches you speak. “I mean, obviously, as a stripper men think I’m free reign. When I have a bad day or something I just need people to go away. Can you let me know? Like whenever we see each other, if you don’t want to be touched just tell me and I can fuck off.”

Eddie laughs at your choice of words and it makes your smile widen. You liked his tooth filled laugh; it seemed genuine. 

“Of course. But I expect you to do the same.”, he scolds with joke filled eyes.

“Yes, sir.”, you giggle. “What was the other thing?”

“Disrespect. I can handle sass but disrespect…”

“Define disrespect.”

“The way you answered me before. ‘None of your fucking business’.”, he mimicked making you blush. “I don’t like that. Don’t talk down to me either.”

“Aw, poor rockstar. You don’t like being talked down to or put in your place?” You knew what you were doing and so did he. When he glanced your way again, you could see the fire. It wasn’t necessarily angry but more like he was amused. Now if this is what that looks like, you’d hate to see fury because his beautiful brown eyes were currently burning holes into your own. 

“I don’t know, whore. Do you?” Your mouth fell open at his response as he slung his arm over the back of your couch and scoot so close to you that his knee was touching yours. “I’m not like the other men you fuck, Y/N. I’m not going to throw a tantrum because you talk back or leave because you hurt my feelings. I have no problem playing your game and putting you in your place.”

“Said the man who struggles with ‘disrespect’.” You say the last word in a deep, sarcastic dad tone as you grin wickedly in his direction. The chuckle that leaves his lips, however, startles you as he looks away and runs his hand over his shirt, pretending to straighten it. 

“Oh, baby. I can’t wait for you realize sentences like that have consequences.” Eddie continues to look anywhere else that isn’t your face and it kills you. You desperately want his attention again. “You said nothing too rough but what about things like choking or hitting?”

“I don’t mind either. The, um, the way you choked me last night was okay.”

“Do you have a safe word?”

“No. I’ve never done this before.”

“Ok, we can utilize the stop light system. If I ask you what color you’re at, green is good, yellow is slow down, and red is stop. Just say red if you feel uncomfortable.”

“Alright, Eddie.”  You growl in frustration as his eyes remain downcast. “Eddie? Please… can you look at me?”

“Oh? Little girl wants my attention? After being a brat a moment ago, I don’t think you deserve it.”

Your instinct is to touch his chest and curl up on his lap, cooing in your high pitch voice you use on the job to get him to do what you want but after his confession about being touched you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Plus, you have a feeling your normal tactics won’t work on him here.  

Sliding onto the floor, you place yourself on your knees next to his leg.

“Please, Daddy.”

Eddie’s chest deflated as his eyes closed, trying to hide the pleasure hearing you say that gives him. When he opens them again, they meet your big doe ones as he leans forward with his elbows on his knees. 

“I really did just come over with the intention of talking to you.”

“I know. We can still just talk if you want to or maybe we can watch a movie…” As you glance towards the tv, he places two of his fingers under your chin, and turns your face back to look at him. 

“We’re not going to watch a movie, sweetheart.”

“Oh, um, ok. Do you want to maybe see my bedroom?”

Eddie nods and as he rises to his feet, he extends his hand for you to take, helping you off the floor. 

“What do you say?”

“Thank you.”

He steps into your personal space and just like last night you can feel his cigarette smelling breath warming your lips as he hovers just above them. 

“Thank you…?”

“Thank you, Daddy.”, you whisper. 

“Good girl.”

When you don’t move his smile widens as he gestures down a hallway with his eyes and you laugh nervously before leading him to your room. 

“Aw, this is cute.”, he grins as he looks around taking everything in. 

“What did you expect, Mr. Munson? Some neon lights with a stripper pole in the middle.”

You watch him as he continues to explore, ignoring your sass as he scans through your music.

“Geez, I didn’t think people bought albums anymore.”

“I do. I like the way they sound.” Walking over to where he was standing, you run your fingers through you collection and pulled out one he definitely recognized. 

“Well shit. I didn’t know we sold any physical albums either.” Taking the Corroded Coffin album from your hand, he quickly gave it a once over before handing it back to you. “Seems like you don’t listen to it very much.”

You shrug as you place it back in with the others. “What album gets you in the mood for work?”, he asked.

“Huh?”

“You’re getting ready for the evening to go to a client’s house or to the club where you dance. You know it’s going to be a long night of hoots, hollers, and flirty touches with drunk assholes until 3am. What do you listen to, to get you mentally in that headspace?”

“I don’t know to be honest. I think it just depends on my mood.”

“Let me ask you this then. Did you listen to music when you got ready to come over last night? What did you put on?”, he asks when you nod. 

Lightly moving him to the side, you grab the album on top of another stack by the record player and set it up before carefully dropping the needle on the record.

“You keep dreaming and dark scheming Yeah, you do You're a poison and I know that is the truth All my friends think you're vicious And they say you're suspicious You keep dreaming and dark scheming Yeah, you do.”

Eddie’s eyes meet yours as the man begins to sing and he can see the music already affecting you as you begin to lightly sway. 

“It’s a band called Two Feet. They’re rhythm and lyrics just…” Your voice trails off as he continues to watch you. He doesn’t move or say anything and his strong, powerful demeanor is making you wetter by the second. This time you move, pushing your body so close to his you can feel his heartbeat against your own chest. His chocolate eyes scan your face before landing on your lips. 

“I feel like I'm drowning I'm drowning You're holding me down and Holding me down You're killing me slow So slow, oh no I feel like I'm drowning I'm drowning.”

“Please, Daddy.”, you whisper, desperate to feel his mouth on yours. 

Eddie obliges tilting down to kiss you firmly as his fingers tangle in your hair to bring your face as close to his as possible. Walking you backwards towards your bed, he falls on top of you as his lips continue to dance with yours. 

“Y/N...I need to hear…hear you agree to…what I’m asking for.”, he pants out between each peck and heavy breath. 

“I—we can end it at any time?”

“Of course. Of course, sweetheart.”

“Ok. Ok, Eddie.”

He softly smiles as his fingers caress your cheek. “Can I see your body? Can you show it to me, please?”

“Please? I wasn’t expecting that.”

“You treat me with respect and I’ll do the same.” 

Rolling to his side, he allows you space to remove your shirt and pull down your jeans with your panties.

“No bra? Naughty little girl.”, Eddie teases as runs his hands along your legs. “You really are beautiful, princess.” Guiding your leg over his waist, you licked your lips as you felt the tips of his fingers glide ever so gently up and down your inner thigh. “Look at you. I haven’t even touched your pussy yet and you’re making a mess already.”, he chuckles with slight condescension that has you pouting.

“Oh, come on now, pretty girl. Don’t make that face. Is all of this for me?” When you only nod, his palm lightly but firmly slaps down against your folds making you yelp. “Properly, please. I want to hear you. I always want to hear you.”

“Y-yes, Daddy. It’s all for you.”

You both groan as he slides his fingers between your lips, the sound of your slick causing the bulge in his own jeans get tighter as it pressed against the denim.

“Fuck me, baby. Can Daddy taste you? Are you going let Daddy make you feel good?”

“Yes, Daddy. Please. I need you to.”

After yanking his shirt over his head, he tosses it to the floor and slides his body between your legs, tenderly kissing parts of your skin along the way. When his tongue licks a long stripe through your folds, your eyes roll back as you loudly moan.

Eddie can’t help but laugh under his breath at the sound. 

“Do you like how my tongue feels, pretty girl?”

“S-so wide. Please don’t stop.”

He does as you ask and your whole body comes to life as he explores every part of your cunt; making mental notes at what makes your whimper the loudest. Coming off you, he gathers some of your arousal with his fingers and slowly pushes two of them into your entrance.

“Goddamn it, sweetheart. You are so fucking tight.” His mouth eagerly wrapped around your clit as he pumped his digits inside you. Eddie’s eyes remained on your face as he watched you squirm and play with your breasts. 

“Yes, Daddy! Pl-please! I’m gonna…”

“That’s it, baby. Let go and cum for Daddy.”

Practically screaming, your body shook as you came, your hips grinding against him. Eddie continued to lick you, smirking as he felt your body twitch with the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

Kissing his way up to your lips, his smile grew wider as you beamed up at him with hooded eyes. 

“You did good, princess. You taste so good and your pussy is so tight. I’m going to ruin you when I fuck you.”

“You’re not going to fuck me now?”, you whine.

“No, Y/N. Not tonight.”

“Do I get to at least make you cum?”, you ask gesturing towards his groin. 

Leaning against your headboard, he collects you to his side till your head was on his shoulder with his arm wrapped around you as he kissed your forehead. 

“You want to make Daddy cum, honey? Go ahead and take out my cock.”

Your eyes remain on his as you tug at his belt with one hand before unbuttoning his pants and guiding them down his hips enough for his cock to spring free. You had felt him the night prior but seeing him now made your eyes widen. He really was going to ruin you.

“You can touch me.”, he murmured.

Licking your palm, you reached out to hold him and his dick twitched at the contact. Your mouth salivated as your thumb grazed the pre cum already dripping from his slit. Eddie deeply exhaled at the action but as you leaned forward with the intention of choking on his cock, his hand grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back. 

“Nu uh. I said you could touch me not taste me.”

“Please, Daddy. I really want to.” He shook his head and you whined. You actually whined like a child as you crooned your face into his neck. 

His fingers roughly tugged on your hair, forcing your eyes to meet his. 

“Who’s in control here?” Your lips formed into a thin, defiant line causing him to yank harder making you moan at the action. “Answer me.”

“You are, Daddy.”

“If you want to keep giving me that fucking attitude, Y/N, I can jerk myself off while you watch. Be grateful I’m allowing you to do anything.”

“Can I at least spit, please?”

Taking hold of your palm, he brings it to his lips as he lets a glob of spit fall into it and places your hand back around him. Watching his face, it killed you that it was now contorted in annoyance. You wanted him to feel as good as he had made you feel.

As you began to stroke him, you curled your body closer to his and tenderly kissed his cheek. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to give you attitude. I just want to feel you in my mouth so badly.” Eddie moaned at your confession as your hand twisted around him, your thumb occasionally grazing his tip. “I want to feel you in the back my throat. I want you to feel me gag around you and make a mess over your cock.”

His calloused palm ran down your side till you felt his fingers pinch your nipples making you mewl in his ear. 

“That’s right, Daddy. Touch me. Use me to cum.”

“Fuck. F-faster, baby.”

“Is that you need, Daddy?”, you coo as you pump him quicker, squeezing your hand tighter around him.

Eddie’s lips land on yours for a passionate kiss as his tongue massages your own. You mewl at the taste of yourself as his mouth travels down your cheek to your ear.

“Your hand feels so good on me, sweetheart. Fuck… maybe if you beg me…D-Daddy will let you swallow his cum.”

As his lips and tongue caressed your throat, his ear hovered just close enough to your mouth for you to whisper you pleas to him as he groaned at the sound. 

“Please. Please let me taste you, Daddy. I’ll be a good girl. I promise. Please…”

Eddie’s jaw went slack and you felt his face scrunch against your skin. Roughly gripping the back of your neck, he guided you over his cock and you opened your mouth just enough for him to thrust himself inside of you. 

“Fuck me, babygirl. Your mouth is so fucking warm. Don’t move. Daddy’s going to give you what you want.”

After a few more sloppy movements of his hips, he grunted above you as you felt ropes of his release hit your throat. As soon as his hands fell, you utilized the opportunity to run your tongue along his tip, licking him clean. 

Gently kissing up his stomach, you laid your head on his chest as you listened to him breathe. It took him a while before his fingers finally reached up to play with your hair as he laid his arm on top of the one you had strewn across him. 

“Eddie? What are the rules for after?”

“That’s up to you, sweetheart. Do you want me to go?” You didn’t see but he softly smiled as you held him tighter.

“No…but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I’m actually quite comfortable if I’m being honest.”

“Me to. Which is new for me.” He cranes his neck to look at you and you lean back a bit so your eyes can find his. “If I’m being honest.”

“I don’t know if this needs to be said, Y/N, but you’re safe with me. If at any point you do feel uncomfortable or you need tell me something please feel free to be open with me.”

Nodding, you smirk as you sit up, grabbing the bottom part of his jeans at the legs and tug them off before throwing them aside. Eddie watches you with amusement, grinning as well as you tug his shirt over your head and climb back into bed to pull his boxers back up over his hips. 

Turning off your bedside lamp, you take his hand, and place his arm over your waist as you melt your body into his own. Sliding his other arm under your pillow, he leans forward to softly kiss your shoulder as he brings you closer to his chest.

“Good night, pretty girl.”

“Good night, Daddy.”

#######

[arachnoia]

holy shock ➶ . ˚ ༉‧₊˚ˑ༄ؘ | miguel o’hara

miguel o’hara x fem! reader (nsfw!)

a/n: literally I love you guys smmmm! i’m so glad you guys loved ‘gone’ 🥹 here’s pt 2!

again im trying new things bc im not rlly a smut writer but if y’all want smut, im down to write it! it’s j not my strong suit and y’all can prob tell.

ILL SHUT UP! ENJOY!

warnings- this has a lil nsfw, p in v, lil bit of angst, untranslated spanish, second part to gone

pt1- ‘gone’ pt3- ‘finally’

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

“HE TOLD YOU HE DIDN’T YOU IN HIS LIFE? WHAT?” Peter looked at you wide-eyed and Mayday raised her eyebrows even though she has no idea what was going on. But her dad sounding shocked was enough to get a surprised reaction from her.

“Sort of…” you whispered. You kept looking at the sun’s glare, as if it had the solution to your crumbling “love life”.

“What do you think we were, Peter? What is your perspective? Why was Miguel your first thought?” You remarked. You felt your voice slightly crack from your questions thrown at Peter.

You also felt a little irrational.

You were angry too.

Not at Peter of course, but of how pathetic you think you look right now.

A slew of emotions piled onto you suddenly, all negative.

“Y/n…Aren’t you guys best friends?” His answer shocked you when it shouldn’t.

If you said yes, you wouldn’t be lying because that’s how your relationship looked like. But it’s not how it felt. It felt like something more.

“You could say that,” You said, glancing at the hyper cars from below.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

“Thank you…”

Miguel looked startled as he turned in your direction below. “For what?”

“Saving me. My thigh feels better and thank you for uh, saving me,” You yelled, smiling awkwardly. Hopefully he couldn’t tell how nervous you were from up there.

Miguel leaned his head to behind you, “What do you have there ?”

“Oh, fuck right! Uh, these are for you,” You swung up and held out a plastic white bag, plastered with “THANK YOU”s and “GRACIAS”s.

You felt so stupid.

You sounded so stupid.

He probably thought you were stupid too.

“I- uh…got you some empanadas. I know you like them from Doña Rosa’s restaurant, so…here.” Miguel’s eyebrows were raised and he chuckled. “You didn’t have to, Y/l/n.”

Stuttering? Really?

You blushed and felt nervous. He’s your best friend?? Why are you feeling this way??

You retracted your arm with the bag before Miguel grabbed your arm and sucked his teeth. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t take them now, Y/n.”

Your face felt like it was on fucking FIRE.

“Gracias hermosa,” He said smiling and snatching the bag quickly.

He said it in a teasing way, which lead you even more confused as to what the hell it meant translated.

You tilted your head in confusion, “What does that mean?”

What if he said he didn’t like them?

WHAT IF HE THOUGHT YOU SOUNDED LIKE AN IDIOT?!

He turned around and shrugged. “Means ‘thanks bud’. So thanks, bud.”

His nonchalant tone made you bite the inside of your cheek as you frowned at him, who was already opening up the bag of empanadas and munching on a fig one.

“Yeah, you’re welcome, bud.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“I just need time to breathe and take a minute, Peter. It’s not every day one of your best friends just tells you ‘Oh! You’re dead to me, you bastard, I hate you, I want you gone from my life!’ That just doesn’t happen,” you said, feeling an immense wave of sorrow hitting you, replacing the anger that was just there.

Peter, in his 38 years of living never ever thought he would be in this situation; giving relationship advice to his 27-year-old colleague.

“Have you tried talking to him about it?” That was the first thing to mind. As you can tell, he isn’t really good at this.

“Well yeah-“

“How did it go?”

You glared are him and your tone turned sarcastic, “How does it look like it went?”

The sky’s sunset looked beautiful. It had an array of warm and gorgeous reds, pinks, oranges, and yellows, with a hint of violet.

“Well, he blocked my number! He unfollowed me on his super duper secret Instagram-”

“Wait what? Miguel has Instagram? He’s such a…”

You laughed a bit, “…Deadkill? Why? Is it because he has the humor of an 80-year-old man? He’s not that boring, Peter. He has social media.”

“Y/n. The man says ‘Oh shock!’ Like man, just say oh shi-” Peter stopped and looked at Mayday, who was already looking up at him and was smiling cutely.

“I mean ‘oh shiitake mushrooms’…”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, “Well he cut off all communication from me! The bastard even blocked me on SPOTIFY. He deleted our shared playlist-”

“Woah. WOAH! Shared playlist? Me n MJ do that!” he gushed.

You nodded, “And he was the one who added the majority of the songs. Pinche puto.”

“Yeah, yeah. Um Y/n, hey I don’t know. Talk to him?” He said, giving you a sassy tone with his hands on his hips. ”Peter, you’re setting me up for failure…”

“It would be, you know, more real if you just talked it over. I’m not sure about the whole picture as to what happened between you two but Miguel has always been so…depressing and you really did brighten up his life to some extent.”

“Right-”

“Hey, before you start being all mopey, just talk it out. I know Miguel just wouldn’t be irrational because he’s just a very level-minded person.”

If only he was…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“You didn’t want to laugh. But the more he dramatically moved his hips, the less control you had until you busted out cackling.

You caught him dancing to Bachata while he was washing dishes in his apartment.

Why were you in his apartment? You came unannounced to hang out, thinking he wouldn’t really care, until you walked into him dancing to his bachata playlist.

“You should definitely teach me. I see you listening to this all the time,” you said, giggling.

He jumped and turned around, giving you a scowl. “Ay dios, what are you doing here?”

You walked infront of him and put your finger against his lips, “Shh. You should definitely teach me how to dance this.”

He stopped and gazed at you for a few seconds before he went over which led you to twirling around and him having his hands resting at your hips as he helped you sway them.

You were going to probably scream into your pillow once you got home and cry since you’ve been going at this for 30 minutes.

You felt kind of bad feeling that way about your best friend, but holy-

The current song stopped and you felt his breath against your ear as he whispered, “I can hear your heart beating fast. Are you alright?”

HOLY SHOCK?

“I-“

Before you said anything, he interrupted you just studying your facial features. He studied your lips, nose, beauty marks. The silence was then caught off by him kissing you.

You felt your heart stop for a second before you returned the kiss.

He pulled away and smiled, “I see that you didn’t try to stop me, hermosa.”

HOLYSHOCKHOLYSHOCKHOLYSHOCKHOLYSHOCK

“I don’t think I should stop you,” you whispered, getting a low chuckle from him before he carried you bridal style towards his sleeping quarters and laid you on his bed. He barely came back from a mission and was still in his suit while you were in your regular clothing.

“I see, you like calling me ‘hermosa’? What does that mean?”

He smirked at you and pointed at you, “It means beautiful, just like you.”

You got up a bit from your laid position and kissed him even harder, pulling his weight on top of you as you both were drowning in each other.

“Oh fuckkk…” He groaned, squeezing your ass before he started attacking your neck, leaving you with red and purple love bites. He reached for your collarbone and stopped.

“W-Why’d you stop,” you whined. You didn’t know what to feel at this point. Here you were, with your best friend who you had a crush on, making out in his bed. Did he feel the same way? You had to pinch yourself before you could decide it was an illusion.

It wasn’t.

“I need permission. Can you-“

Before he responded, you took off your shirt and slid down your pants, leaving you in your panties and bra. “Continue.”

He smiled and started to play with your clit and kissed you at the same time, as you moaned in the kiss.

“F-Fuck, O’Hara-“ you moaned

It’s safe to say that you still couldn’t believe what happened next when he asked for permission again.

He pushed a button from his watch, placing it on his nightstand to reveal his almost godly sculpted body…and his very, very long member.

Your eyes couldn’t help but widen, which he noticed and chucked.

“Do you think you take it?“

“I don’t know, but I can try,” you muttered. You didn’t know what just happened with your newly found confidence but you were rolling with it.

He ripped your panties off and put a condom on. He then, aligned his erected member to your vagina and went in.

“It hurts-“ you whined before he kissed you.

“Just take it, you’re doing good right now, cariño.” He said as he moaned a bit, enjoying how tight you feel around him.

‘Cariño’…that was new.

That’s what Doña Rosa called her husband whenever he came at random times in her restaurant when the two of you were ordering empanadas.

That’s what lovers call each other, right?

It didn’t take long for you to almost pass out from his girth entering in and out, giving you a wave of euphoria and a bit of pain.

Your mind was rushing at different places, all while hearing his little grunts and moans.

You were probably going to be sore tomorrow but it’s fine.

“I’m- I’m about to-“

“Yeah, me too,” he said before you both finished, feeling him fill you up.

“Shhh, sleep. You need rest now,” he said as he kissed your forehead and your eyes fluttered. He wrapped his sheets on you and patted your head. You softly smiled. It smelled like him and it smelled so good.

You recall him putting on some clothes and leaving, but thought he would come back.

You realized he didn’t when you woke up.

The only thing he left was a note on the other side of the bed you laid on, telling you that he felt every emotion opposite for love towards you. He wanted you to be gone from his life.

All you could do was just stare at a wall and cry.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Peter…are you sure that talking to him in person would help? I’m just-“

“Nervous? Yeah I get it. When me and MJ had our troubles, it’s always best to talk it out. Look at me now!”

“Peter, I’m looking at you and all I see is a middle-aged man in a superhero costume with a pink bathrobe, raccoon eyes, and a baby.”

Peter glared at you and rolled his eyes, “Wow I’m offended-“

You put up your arms, “Hey I’m sorry but that’s what I saw!”

“Mhm? Well, just talk to him. If he told you that in person-“

“He didn’t…”

Peter fumed, “Stop interrupting meeeee! Alright. That makes more sense then, honestly.”

You raised your eyebrow, “What do you mean by that?”

"What exactly did he do?"

You stared at him blankly, "He wrote a note.”

Peter scoffed and smiled cockily, “Miguel isn’t the type to do that stuff in writing!”

You cocked your head towards Peter, “And? What are you trying to say?”

Peter chuckled, “He didn’t mean it! That’s what it meant!”

You felt like your brain cells might have died from the statement Peter made.

What the fuck?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

yeah idk what I just wrote either.

tags ❤️‍🔥 (some don’t work and i’m so sorry 😭)

—— @catr4dora @leftcupcakedefendor @ushygushybaby @viriexo

[moonlight-prose]

EVERGREEN WASN'T SUCH A BAD DREAM

➝ A HURT DRABBLE

a/n: this first started out as a small idea jotted down in my notebook way back in august. i was trying to write hurt and it was being put on hold cause honestly i was scared to continue it. i didn't think i'd ever write it and honestly it didn't make much sense to me given the way the fic played out. but i couldn't get over the idea that these two got a little bit of joy in their lives. it's pre-chapter six so i hope y'all enjoy! divider by the incredibly talented @saradika.

summary: in the middle of destruction nature continues to follow the same path as before. starting with the first snowfall of the season. you just happen to be there to witness it with him.

word count: 1.5k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, soft joel, cold weather antics, fluff, a tad bit of romance, angst, grief, talk of the future in a hopeless world.

SERIES MASTERLIST

A blanket of white covered the world, turning everything brighter. The sun reflected off the snow, practically sparkling. You heard the crunch beneath your boots—the sound familiar and inviting. It called to the small fractured piece of joy that still remained in your body; begged you to finally let go and have some fun. Even as the world went to shit, the first snowfall never failed to make you smile.

Your breath collected in the air in front of you. Showing you just how cold it really was. Which only made you smile more—your nose practically numb with the frigid air.

“Fuck,” he muttered, slipping on the heavy gloves that he found in an old shop a few towns back. “It’s too cold.”

You shrugged, taking in a deep breath that burned on its way in. ‘Yeah but…it snowed.”

His eyes narrowed at your overjoyous smile. “It’s a pain in the ass to travel through snow.”

That was true.

Yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset about such a beautiful thing. Snow has always been attuned to joy in your life. The start of fun spent outdoors with your brother. Hot drinks with friends as your university began to set up for the worst. And sure there were the annoyances and hardships that came with this weather. But you had always found that the positives far outweighed the negatives in this case.

Joel couldn’t necessarily say the same. A bitter feeling of grief began to build in his chest—Sarah’s face entering his mind. They spent holidays in the snow. Holed up in the house as they watched a movie—usually a Christmas movie with a predictable script—often inviting Tommy for the night. It was a time he’d give anything to return to.

The weight in his chest pressed down painfully—attempting to drag him down. Back into the darkness he was so used to residing in.

Except something bright broke through its walls. As if sunlight was once again shedding its light over him. Warmth consumed him; offering him hope with a soft press to the agony that splintered him half. Only when he tore himself out his mind did he realize what it was.

The sound of your laughter.

Small flakes began to fall from the sky, catching on his hair and jacket. They stung his face slightly. He couldn’t focus on that though. Not when you were smiling, your bare hands trying to catch each snowflake—your tongue sticking out. For the first time he saw a childlike wonder in your eyes. The cloud of grief he’d grown so accustomed to—now dissipated as you played in the snow.

“Havin’ fun?” he asked as his lips pulled up at one side.

You laughed again and Joel felt a bolt of lightning go through his heart. Even though it was freezing outside, that warmth spilled into his chest, spreading out to the tips of his fingers. He understood what love felt like. How it affected a person, but this…this was more. This was the missing emotion he thought he’d never see again in this lifetime.

“As a matter of fact—I am having fun.”

You stepped closer to him, letting your freezing nose press against the hollow of his throat. He jolted, eliciting another small giggle from your lips. But he refused to move. Simply shifting slightly to open his jacket in order to pull you closer until his body heat seeped into yours. He wrapped his arms around you, tugging you until your feet were pressed between his.

“Gonna get sick,” he muttered under his breath.

A puff of cold breath left you, caressing against his skin and sending a shiver down his spine. “C’mon Joel, it’s fun.”

“Boston—”

“Don’t you remember fun?”

He stiffened, hands frozen on your back. Only this time you didn’t immediately apologize for possibly saying the wrong thing. You remained silent. Gave him a chance to process the pain that was no doubt overtaking his body, a grief you would never be able to understand. Each of you carried your own demons—dragged down by the weight of them daily, and only for a brief moment did you see him allow them to lift.

“I do,” he replied, his voice thick with torment.

You shut your eyes, ran your hands up his back and let out a breath. “Tell me about it.”

Tell me about your past. Tell me about her.

Joel rarely mentioned anything when it came to his past. That continued to be a locked door you held no key to and you accepted that. You took what you could with him. But standing there in the middle of a snowy serene winter, you finally wanted to see each broken part he hid from you. You wanted to watch the sunlight glint off them like glass and catch their beauty in the palm of your hands.

You wanted to know him.

“We’d celebrate Christmas,” he said softly, lips pressed to your hair. “Nothin’ fancy. Nothin’ big. But we’d get a tree.”

He never told you who Sarah was to him, never revealed what happened to her. You were just happy to finally hear about something joyous in his life. That once upon a time…he might have smiled. Hell he might have even laughed often. You could tell by the lines around his eyes, proof that this man had experienced more than just this.

“In Texas?” you pressed, face peeking up to see his gaze already on you.

He nodded. “My brother usually joined us.”

Surprise lingered in your body, but you pushed past it. “You never told me you had a brother.”

And there it was, that small hint of a smile showing through the heartbreak on his face. “Yeah…Tommy.”

You tried to conjure up a picture of the other Miller. Did he have brown eyes like Joel? Was he older or younger? Was he still alive? Something told you with the way Joel reacted simply by saying the man’s name, that he remained okay. That somewhere on this Earth he was alive. You wanted to ask more, see if he’d let you in on a life you were never meant to be a part of. But pressing Joel to do anything—especially talking about his past—was not something that would go over easily.

“Did you play in the snow?” you asked, a smirk pulled at your lips.

He sighed, glancing up at the sky, a soft red stain flushing across his face. “We did.”

“I knew it.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, fingers pinching at your hip. Only to feel his heart flutter at the echo of your laugh being pressed to his chest.

He swore his heart responded to the sound, twisting in a way that he didn’t know was possible. It wasn’t wracked with pain, it wasn't threatening to drown him beneath his grief. It simply just existed.

Perhaps that’s what he could do for this one moment.

Stand in the snow as a man, holding a woman he loved, and exist.

“Hey Texas.”

He ran a soothing hand up your back, fingers lightly tracing the hem of your jacket. “Hm?”

“Will you play in the snow with me?”

Something lit up his eyes, the brown suddenly a lighter gold that struck a chord in your heart. He played you like a fucking guitar and with that one look, you’d let him. Joel took a breath, mouth parting, and did the one thing you longed to see. He smiled. Nothing small or minor, but a full blown smile that made your heartbeat cease to exist. For the first time…he looked happy. As if the man from before had shoved his way forward to finally give you a proper look at who he once was.

At the man he longed to be again.

“Yeah Boston,” he said, leaning forward to brush his lips against yours. “I will.”

A laugh escaped your mouth when he shoved you back lightly, hands reaching for the freshly fallen snow on the ground. You did the same. Digging your fingers into the freezing icy ground, pulling up a small amount to make a ball. Only for Joel to throw one at you, hitting you square in the shoulder.

“I wasn’t ready!”

He chuckled, heading for you. “Move faster.”

“Ironic you’re telling me that.” He stuttered, eyes flashing dark at the memory of having you the day before, but that faded with another grin. One that taunted you with something more.

A promise of a life that could be.

His arm wrapped around your waist, the snow falling from your hands as he hauled you backwards. A yelp escaped your mouth when he fell, your body landing on top of his—snow sticking to his hair and yours. The sun still burned bright in the sky, flakes continued to rain down around you, but for this one single moment…you existed in a space that felt good.

That felt normal.

“We’ll have a tree,” you said softly, rolling over to lay beside him.

He turned to look at you, eyes tender. “A tree huh?”

You nodded. “One day.”

“Okay,” he murmured, hand cupping your cheek. “We’ll have a tree.”

[dr3am5scape]

I’ve waited for you (Sevika x Female reader)

Hello guys! Finally time to continue back on writing Sevika’s fics. I remember writing a bit of her back in 2022. Guess I didn't had motivation to work on more, BUT HERE I AM! So here you go my fellow lesbians who needed something.

I do miss Sev it's not funny :(

My bad y’all I had to reread cuz I type so fast and had to go back for correction, forgive me😭😭😭

Anyways, please enjoy.💜💜💜

Lovely night in Zaun, the green lights dim throughout the streets. It was pretty silence on the road. You stayed in your wife’s bed, waiting impatiently to see her adorable face again. The room was very quiet and felt so empty as you thought about it. All you could hear only is the air conditioner cooling down the heat from all day and some of the noises from downstairs. That's the only thing you could hear but not the road outside. Could tell it was some people having a good time... but not for you it is. You didn’t want to think about other things, but your wife only and only her. It was now 1am, as you check on the clock on top of the wall above the headboard where your laying at. Suddenly, your heart skip when the keys jingles close to the front door as you heard it opened. Could it be her? “Sevika, love?” You ask yourself. Finally, you waited for hours to see her. You heard the sound of your wife mumbles as she walks in the bedroom quietly and takes off her jacket, hanging it up on her chair not noticing you were up. “Oh! Love, I didn't know you was awake." She jumps a bit. She saw how dark was the room and never knew you was up, til she saw your shadow from the dim light of the window. Sevika turn the light to finally see you look extremely tired. "Why you still up, sweetheart? You’ve been waited for me all night?” Sevika says in concern. She didn't want to be mean to you for staying up too long, so she pulls herself together, coming towards you. She bends down to kiss your forehead, meeting the same height. You were pretty short comparing to hers lol (like me XD) She holds you tightly enjoying the embrace she’s giving to you. “Well, I’m here now.” Then, you reply back. “Sev, I was so worried.” You caress her soft cheek, trailing your finger on her blue scar trying to not start crying. “I’ve waited the whole entire night. I couldn’t sleep. I just kept thinking about you for so long.” You said while leaning on her chest as a tear came down on your cheek. “Oh, my love.” Sevika caress the side of your beloved face, pressing you more. She then places your chin back up to meet her eye. “No need to worried, dear. I was thinking about you too. Now that I’m here, it’s over, love.” You had your anxiety moments thinking something would happened to Sevika if she wasn’t home. All those negative thoughts in your head had to be erased. Luckily, your wife had came to save you. “I was just nervous how long you was out there. I wanted you to come home early-“ Sevika shushes you. “Shhh, love don't worried so much. I’m fine. Everything went well. Were both safe.” She looks down at your beautiful eyes sparkle like diamonds. “You know how much I love you, right?” You sniff your tears and lifts a small smile. “Yeah, I know.” You calmed down for a bit and sighs. “Just wanted to make sure you was safe. That’s all. I can't keep thinking what would ever happened to you if-” Sevika cupped your both cheeks together, admiring how adorable your face were like a baby. “Love, do I have to say it all over again? Y/N, look at me.” She ordered you softly to do what she says and you did. “I was fine at work, I promise. And I came home safely didn't I? Yes I came home safe and sound. Nothing's ever gonna happened towards me...or you. I’m still here and we’ll continue to move on.” Your wife does her best to comfort you. She continues looking at you, which was such an awe moment. She couldn’t bear to look away from that puppy eyes of yours. “Now, can we finally get sleep? I’m exhausted…” Sevika says letting out a yawn. You nod. “Yes, same here.” Sevika lifts you up into her arms and without wasting enough time, she carries you to bed. She let you lay down first before she gets on top and turns her whole body to have her head lied on your upper chest. “Goodnight, love,” says Sevika droozing off to sleep with her work outfit on still. You caress her simple bun, while watching her. You finally felt relief from all the anxiety had in you. Eventually, you closed your eyes and gently fall asleep, not wanting to let her go.

The end.

(Yay! What a cute and heartwarming short story. I hope you enjoyed this a lot with Sevika. If your more into my fanfics, please follow me and I’ll be back writing more cute, romantically stories of our favorite milfs and others hehe). (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

[patroxlos]

hi! ive read your character analysis on ken sato and while they were specifically for your series, i found them really interesting. im planning to make a ken sato series myself, though i do intend it as a non-ultraman AU, but after reading ur latest analysis i kinda thought “yeah this might not work” dkdmdksks but thank you so much for the analysis, they were insightful, and thank you so much for putting your works out here, ive really enjoyed home base so far, and the vibe of the series is really up my alley. i hope youre doing well with your academics as well, and that youre always in good health & have enough to live comfortably!!

(im not sure if this mssg sounds negative or anything but i intend to just talk ab this, get it off my chest to the person who have written all the analysis. i did want to ask what you think would be viable in a non-ultraman AU but that would be crossing a line esp since im not close enough to u to discuss ideas for my own works akskdkw anyways this mssg has become too long!! again i hope u are always happy and healthy!!)

OMG please don’t feel discouraged from writing your own series I’m sure it would be lovely !!! AUs are a big part of fanfic culture and a non-Ultraman AU can definitely work!!

No worries at all if you need help w figuring out the AU hehe I think that as long as the following elements are still present, you’ll still be able to keep the essence of Ken Sato

He has a very complicated relationship with his father

He lacks any CLOSE relationships with others outside of his mom. I emphasize “close” bc I can see him being friendly and conversational with others and fitting in a crowd, maybe even have regular drinking buddies, but he would be the type of guy who you realize at the end of the night that you don’t know anything about him

He needs Emi in his life. There are a lot of fics that focus on Kenji post-Emi when she already left and that’s okay! I’m just saying that he won’t be the person he is at the end of the film without Emi, and SINGLE fatherhood is a BIG THEME of the film. Try incorporating her in any way if you want to write Ken post-character development. Also, remember that prior to Emi, Ken is self-serving! So don’t be afraid to write him to be selfish for that period.

He struggles with feelings of alienation from his culture and people. It doesn’t have to be the main focus of his struggles in your AU it’s just that we shouldn’t erase how he feels about being Japanese

Thank you for your kind words and I hope this helps!

Remember too that you’re always allowed to disagree with others regarding how they characterize Ken hehe just stick to your gut and do him justice in your own way 🫡

[goodlucksnez]

cw: Swearing (a lot-its baku yall), mentions of toxic past, door slamming, holdback, Ice freezing sound effects, todo/baku implied, b/aku trying to be nice, and apologizing (character growth okay), K/ink Baku implied

The past week it has been over 100 degrees and i wanted to bring that to a wav so who better then T/odo and B/aku-Enjoy!!

Next wav: Ha//zbin

Transcript

Jesus. fucking God. mother fucking piece of shit *slams door*

Good afternoon Bakugou

 Oi shut up. I'm in no fucking mood.

 Is everything alright?

 No fucking Strawberry Shortcake. It's not fucking all right. It's 100° outside and I have to fucking go on patrol while you lounge around

Are you upset at me?

Wow. Whatever made you think that? I am covered in sweat. You're lucky and no one decided to Light a match near me or ill blow up half the damn city. Oh my God. Fuck summer. Fuck this. This is a bunch of fucking

Is your…..Emotions tied to the weather outside.

Don't even fucking start with me. Half and half. I'm in no fucking mood. It's hot as satan left testicle out there. OK, now fuck of while I take a fucking shower.

Only his left.

*slams door*

 Ohh yeah. Wow, he was really mad.Well,I can help with that at least. I can cool it down in here. I guess I never really noticed it. It's slightly warm. Well. Hopefully this will make a difference to him.

Why the fuck do I walk outside? It's hundred and fucking.*slips on ice* What the hell is this icy hot? Why the fuck is the living room a god damn ice rink?

So you're upset when you're both too hot and too cold.

You not mad that it's fucking a ice rink. I'm mad because this is my god damn living room and you're fucking it up. Melt this crap.

I apologize I.*sneeze* Thought you wanted it to be colder?

I want it to not be 101 fucking degrees outside doesn't mean it needs to be negative fucking 50, fucking idiot. I swear. You don't have a fucking brain in there

I apologize bakugou.

 Ohh, don't fucking Bakugou me.

 It is your name, is it not?

 Oh, my God. You fucking piss me off so much. You fucking know that.

I apologize.

Was that the people of the fucking world didn't fuck up the air this much? I wouldn’t be so mad, OK?

Would you like a frozen dairy product?

Are you fucking asking me if I want ice cream?

Yes.

Get the god damn cookies and cream and don't say shit

*eating ice cream*

 Don't fucking look at me like that.

I apologize

don't get me started.

 I'm confused. Is the ice cream not helping you cool down?

Really pushing your luck there.

I don't understand.

This is hard enough, OK.

Oh, would you like me to melt it for you

 not the fucking ice cream!! this, feeling. I feel bad about how I acted.

OK.

Fuck I'm sorry, OK? I was just hot and annoyed at that. I'm sorry, I shouldn't-Have yelled at you. OK. Ohh you don't need.

Don't finish that fucking sentence. I was in the wrong you're in the right. Happy now.

Not really. You still look.*sneeze* what?

What the hell did you just do?

I'm…sitting here looking at you.

No, the fucking convulsion. What the fuck was that?

 I sneezed.

You what?

Uhm, I sneezed.

Since when do you fucking sneeze?

I am a human. I have bodily functions just like the rest of us.

You sure? Because half the time you act like a damn robot.

I*sneeze* I assure you I am quite human. Pardon.

What the hell is wrong with you? I've known you for five fucking years. I don't think I've ever seen you fucking sneeze.

You most likely have. You just probably didn't notice you kind of Live in your own

 don't change the fucking subject on me. Let me rephrase. The god damm question. Why are you fucking sneezing?

 Oh, what it may have to do with the ice show earlier.

What?

 My internal body temperature is regulated by both the ice and the fire that I control within myself within my center. When one Is more prominent than the other. It can cause side effects. More likely than not, when I overheat. I have a hard time cooling myself down. When I am freezing, it's harder to warm myself up. Causes painful memories. Over the years, I've gotten better at controlling my regulations.

 That's not how this works.

You make sweat that can explode. I don't think this needs to be scientifically proven.

 So what your ices makes you fucking sneeze. Then what was with the fucking Ice show just trying to show off.

 I was trying to make you cool. *sneeze* Pardon me. Evidently I seem *snneze*.

 You fucking short circuit, if that's what the fuck you did.

I prefer the term got out of balance, but I guess you could Compare it to a AI misfiring. I mean, if you think about it,

don't. Go all fucking nerd on me. What? What do I fucking do? Do I stick you outside?

 I'm not a rabid animal bakugou. It's fine, it's just. Just some sneezing.

You'll probably be over that fucking faster if you actually let your body do it.

 Excuse me.

 You're holding them in. Your body is trying to obviously, fucking expel something. Let it do its job. Why are you shortening its lifespan?

Did you just refer to A bodily function as having a lifespan. Now he's being weird.

Oh, everyone thinks you're so gid damn analytical. No one realized. How fucking savage you can be.

You got that hitching shit like deku. Do I have to flick your nose too.

If I didn't know better, I would say you're enjoying this

shut up. I'm not enjoying this. It's just rare, OK.

You fucking stifle again. I will fucking. Come over there.

Pardon me.

Bless.

What was that

Fuck off

[thedo0zyslider]

The third death game has certainly been an experience so far. Maybe a more negative one for Scar. The whole soulbond gimmick wasn't really working out for him, and probably hadn't been since the first day. It was working out fine for everyone else though...

Well, mostly everyone else.

The sun's starting to set now, as Scar travels the server on foot. Normally, at this time of day, he would be hauled up in the Red Velvet Keep, feeding Jellie and taking care of his pandas. But Scar didn't feel like staying ag the Keep today, so he'd feed his pets early, told Jellie she was in charge, and headed out. (He's pretty sure Jellie fell asleep right after he left, but she was a very good cat! She'd wake up and sort out any trouble if she needed too!)

He didn't know where Grian was, and probably didn't want to find out. Maybe he was baking bread with his secret admirer again. That did seem to be his teammates favorite hobby as of late.

It really was a coincidence he ended up by Ren and Bigb's box. Normally, he would've gone towards the Ranch go bug ol' Timmy, but he's pretty sure Tango would've actually set him on fire. So, Scar took to wandering around the server instead.

And his wandering had brought him here.

Scar approached the cobblestone box lazily, not thinking anyone would be out. It was almost dark out, after all! And fighting monsters wasn't really an ideal pasttime in this game. Then the sound of movement, of blocks being moved and placed, comes from nearby, and Scar's not so sure about his assumptions anymore.

"Is that a Ren-diggity-dog I see?" Scar says, spotting quite the familiar figure outside Box. He doesn't know what Ren is doing with those blocks, since his base seem to be done. Maybe he's trying to Box jelwey, or something like that. He did quite enjoy decorating the outside walls, for whatever reason.

"Scar!" Ren exclaims, looking over at his base's newest guest. His tail starts wagging behind him happily. Scar mentally compares him to an excited little puppy, which is basically what Ren is at all time. "How are ya man?"

"Oh, I'm good!" He smiles, remembering why he hsd left home and wandered out in the first place. Scar was not doing good at all, no siree. "Found out my soulmates seeing someone else, but I'm doin' amazing!"

"Er, right." Ren mumbled, leaning against Box's wall awkwardly. If Scar noticed how his tail stopped wagging, he didn't make an indication of it. "Forgot about that."

"It's fine Ren, it's fine!" Scar says, waving his hands dismissively. Ren isn't the one cheating, after all. He has nothing to be sorry for. BigB and Grian are their own people who could make their own choices, and they had apparently decided that soulbonds and their shared lifeforce meant absolutely nothing.

"Well, I do feel a little bad." Ren shrugs, not noticing how his sunglasses slide down his face. Seeing his eyes made his friend's expression look all the more troubled. "Your soulmate is messing around with mine."

"It's not your fault! I didn't expect you to have BigB on a leash or anything." Scar reassures, reaching over to give his friend a firm yet gentle pat on the shoulder. A very reassuring pat, if he does say so himself. Scar is very good at making people feel better. Usually.

Ren smiles up at him, seemingly reassured by the pat; if only just a little bit. (Which meant his pat had been a success! A small one, but a sucess nonetheless!) "Heh, yeah."

"How are you doing, Ren?" Scar hums, changing the topic away from his feelings at the first opportunity. He came out here to get away from all those gross complicated feelings about Grian and being cheated on! He doesn't want to talk about them on his nice relaxing walk! Not that Ren could've known that, of course.

"Uh, kinda not good, my dude." The dog admits, leaning against one of his base's walls. His tail has started to droop now, as well. "But it'll come to pass."

Scar frowns, idly resting a hand on hid hip. It's unusual to see Ren this sad. The sight is definitely more than a little worrying. "The cheating really bothering you, huh?"

"Is it not bothering you?" Ren counters, raising an eyebrow at him. Scar stiffens under that gaze, feeling the resentment and the hurt bubble back up again. He pushes it down before speaking.

"It is." Scar mutters. He doesn't say much else, and doesn't want too. Ren seems to sense that, and nods; not prodding any further like he might’ve normally done.

Scar shuffles his feet, feeling awkward. Neither of them say anything. He doesn't think there's anything to say. Sorry my soulmates seeing yours sounded lame. They didn't need to apologize for it anyways. Ren and Scar didn't need to say sorry fir anything, unless they started kissing each other too.

Oh, that was certainly an idea. A very good idea for payback. And giving Grian a taste of his own medicine sounded like a very good plan at the moment.

Scar hums, not giving himself any mkre timr to think about or doubt his brilliant new plan. "I did have a little idea though..."

"Really?" Ren asks, his tone playful and a smile returning back to his features. "What kinda of 'idea?' Another scam?"

"Oh, very funny Ren!" Scar laughs softly, taking a few steps forward. They would need to be closer for his plan to work, after all! "But no, it's not a business plan this time. It's something very different!"

"Different in what way?" Ren studies him, interested. His tail thumps against the cobblestone wall behind him lightly, now like a curious little puppy instead of a happy little one. Scar can't help but smile.

"Well, how about some payback?" Scar asked, a slight smirk spreading across his face. It's his salesman smirk, though he isn't selling anything this time. Unless he decides to make Ren pay up after the fact....

"Payback?" Ren ask tentatively, feeling his right ear twitch. Scar can almost see the cigs turning in his head as he studies their positions. But the light blub hasn't quite lit up yet. So he decides to give it just a hit more electricity.

A second later, Scar leaned forward, until thier noses were almost touching. Ren blinks back at him, said light blub finally lighting up in his brain. Something sparkles in his eyes. Scar wants to find out what.

"Oh, payback." He muttered, not moving away. Scar thinks Ren actually gets pulled in closer, like a magnet is drawing them together. The universe must agree with his plan then, if its pulling them closer!

"I take it your on board?" Scar asks, raising an eyebrow. Tentatively, he pushed Ren back a little, so he's backed into the wall. Ren lets him.

Ren snorts, rolling his eyes fondly. He takes one of Scar's hands in his own, and laces their fingers together. Scar tries not to blush too hard at the action. "Obviously. Now shut up and do it already!"

Scar smiles at his friends enthusiasm, and wastes now time after that. He kisses Ren softly, finding himself suddenly unsure as he pressed their lips together. Ren kisses back with a hum, clearly finding it enjoyable.

The kiss deepens after a moment, and after Scar has time to gain a bit of his confidence back. Not too deep, but deep enough to leave them needing air and pull away gasping. Which is exactly what they do, by the way, when locking lips and the lack of air because of it become a bit too suffocating to handle.

"That was....cool." Ren mumbled quietly, pushing his sunglasses back up his face. It doesn't do anything to hide how hard he's blushing. Scar has to hold back a giggle at the sight.

"Yeah." Scar agrees, just as breathless as he feels. (And probably looks, too.) He had to admit, Ren was a surprisingly good kisser! "Wanna do it again?"

"Of course, dude!" Ren agrees, laughing softly. Scar leans in to kiss him again, and is met in the middle. It's the closest thing to heaven he's felt all season, and he wants more. (And hopefully, Ren will be here to give him more tomorrow...)

He hopes Grian is happy.

[gingerjunhan]

Hii, can I request a Junhan x Reader Fluff story? Let’s say maybe where he is very insecure and is always scared that his lover would leave him because he’s too quiet or doesn’t show much intimacy (but he tries his best). Explain how his previous relationship didn’t last because of his quiet personality? (Flashback scene would be great showing their breakup) Reader listens and comforts him at the end 🥹

Sorry if this is too confusing!! Don’t be scared to adjust the plot if you want! <3

You’re stories are great and looking forward to more of your writings!

☆彡 hi anon!! tysm for the request and the love!! I hope you enjoy! :)

word count: 918 | pronouns used: they/them | genre: fluff, established relationship | cws: insecurities, lmk if I missed something :)

flashback → present day

“Hyeongjun, I really don’t think this is going to work out between us anymore.”

Hyeongjun felt his heart break at the sound of those words. He searched the face of his now ex-lover, looking for any implication that they were joking, or this might be a dream. “Wh-What?” He asked simply. “Why?”

“You’re always so distant. You never show affection unless I ask for it, and on the off chance that you do it’s just a little bit… awkward.” Their words were harsh, and Hyeongjun couldn’t believe their level of honesty. He struggled to find the right words to say, so he stuck with the only thing he could think of.

“I’m sorry…” he apologized, his voice small. Something inside of him screamed at him to try and comfort them, but he knew that now wasn’t the time. Even if he could comfort them, he knew deep down that he wouldn’t know how.

☆

“Hyeongjunnie!” You launched yourself at him on his mattress, landing next to him and wrapping his arms around him in a tight embrace. “How was your day?”

“It was fine,” he shrugged, wrapping one arm loosely around you while the other stayed folded beneath his head on his pillow, propping him up slightly to help him see the show he was watching. “How was your day?”

“It was so long!” You groaned. “I couldn’t have gotten out of work fast enough today. I swear my boss had it out for me today. Plus, my coworker didn’t show up to work again!”

“Really?”

“Really,” you huffed. “I don’t see how they can no-show twice a week and not get fired, but I show up five minutes late one time due to traffic and I get scolded.”

“It's tough being you,” Hyeongjun joked.

“It really is,” you chuckled back. A comfortable silence fell over the room as the conversation dipped, the sounds of the show Hyeongjun was watching filling the space instead. You pulled yourself in closer to him now, laying your head on his chest. “Are you comfortable with this?” You asked, voice soft.

Hyeongjun looked down at you with a bit of confusion. “Yeah, I’m comfortable. Why would I not be?”

“Well, you aren’t always the most touchy, so I just wanted to make sure.” Your voice was caring, and you clearly meant this as a way of getting his okay to lay with him like this. You smiled up at him before turning your attention back to the screen. Hyeongjun heard your words bounce around in his mind, and he couldn’t help but overthink them. Did it bother you that he wasn’t the most affectionate? Was that your subtle way of telling him to try harder? Did you take his lack of affection as a lack of like for you? What if you thought your relationship was one-sided? His mind raced, and he suddenly became aware of the arm he had wrapped around you. Was that not enough? Should he be trying harder? “Hyeongjun,” you called out to him, breaking his flow of negativity.

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I can hear your heart beating at a mile a minute,” you explained as your head stayed on his chest. “Plus, you’re stiff as a board all of a sudden. Do you want me to move?” You were worried you had made him uncomfortable, but then Hyeongjun looked at you with sad eyes, you knew something else was the matter.

“Does it bother you that I’m not affectionate?” He asked, a hint of pain in his voice.

“Woah,” you looked up at him, “where is this coming from?”

“Does it bother you?” He asked again.

“No,” you answered him truthfully.

“Please don’t lie.” His voice was nothing but a whisper now, and you could see that this was eating away at him. You sat up on the bed, looking down at him.

“It doesn’t bother me at all, Jun.”

Your nickname for him helped calm him slightly. “I just… don’t want you to doubt how I feel about you.”

“I’ve never doubted for a second how you feel about me,” you answered instantly, absentmindedly taking one of his hands. “Just because you aren’t as physically affectionate as I am doesn’t mean that you don’t care for me in the same way I care for you. You just show it differently, that’s all.” A small smile graced his lips as you spoke.

“You mean it?” He asked.

“Of course!” You beamed. “So what you aren’t very physically affectionate? You’re a great listener, and you show that you care through your actions or moments like this. Being willing to have a conversation like this must mean something, right?” Hyeongjun nodded in agreement. You both knew that this could be quite a sensitive subject for him, seeing that his reserved personality has gotten him into some tight spots with past relationships before. His willingness to open up about the topic has only come around a handful of times, but you knew it was something he wanted to work on. “I’ve never doubted our relationship for a second,” you reiterated to him. “Besides, you can’t get rid of me that easy.”

He chuckled at your joke, causing you to laugh a bit as well. You opened your arms to offer a hug to him, and he happily accepted your invitation. “Thank you for understanding,” he mumbled into your shirt before quickly pulling away.

“Of course,” you smiled fondly at him. “I’d never leave you over something like that.”

taglist: @dazzlingligth , @mini-mews , @mxlly143 , @somethingaboutcheese , comment to be added!⁎⁺˳✧༚

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS LUNATIC PARADE Imajin Webshop Tokuten Drama CD ”Being a Popular ★ Guy is Rough ~Greetings from Inside the Kigurumi~”

Original title: モテ★オトコは辛いよ～着ぐるみの中からこんにちは～

Source: Diabolik Lovers LUNATIC PARADE Imajin Webshop Tokuten Drama CD

Audio: Here

Seiyuu:  Hirakawa Daisuke & Kimura Ryouhei

Translator’s note: Laito & Kou are a really fun combination because they’re always dissing each other, yet they fail to realize how similar the two of them actually are. :p I didn’t think I would witness the day on which Laito gets ganged up on by a bunch of girls and doesn’t enjoy it though haha. The smell of his costume must have been really bad if it prevented him from enjoying that sort of situation. 

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

*Rustle rustle* 

Kou: Gosh…What did I -  Mukami Kou-kun, super idol in both the human and the Demon World - do to be forced to wear this stupid kigurumi…? I mean, I can’t imagine my agency would ever give green light for this! Haah~ …And on top of that, I’m paired up with Laito-kun out of all people. Ah-aah~ I would have much preferred M-neko-chan. 

ーー Well, Laito-kun’s a big freak who gets a kick out of these kinds of humiliating situations, so I’m sure he has no issue dressing up like this.

*Rustle rustle*

Laito: Cut me some slack, will you…? What makes you think I’ll willingly put on this stuffy and kind of smelly costume of some kind of strange creature which is neither cute nor cool-looking…!? None of this would've happened if it weren’t for that guy forcing us with the words ‘go and make yourself useful to others for once’. …Hic…Uu…Honestly, who wore this before us? I can’t deal with this stench…!

Kou: Why don’t you try and push through by telling yourself it was a girl who wore it previously? You’ve got a vivid imagination, don’t you? 

Laito: …Ah! I see! If I imagine it was Bitch-chan completely drenched in sweat…!

Kou: There you go. I bet you’re starting to feel a bit worked up, aren’t you~? Come on, admit it~

Laito: Worked up…

Kou: Worked up~? 

Laito: ーー No way! I mean, this stench is too much! I mean, you don’t get excited from this either, do you? 

Kou: Well, mine doesn’t smell~ 

Laito: Haah…!? What do you mean? 

Kou: I asked the lady in charge to arrange a brand-new Kigurumi for me beforehand, so mine is fresh out of packaging~

Laito: Hah!? Excuse me! That’s not fair!

Kou: Of course it is! I’m just using my knowledge as someone in the entertainment business. …Or rather, I’ve learnt from painful experiences in the past, you could say. 

Laito: Which means you’ve had to wear a smelly Kigurumi once before? 

Kou: For one of the TV programs I featured in, yeah. It was truly horrible…I thought I was in Hell.  

Laito: I guess there’s a hidden dark side to the flashy showbiz industry. ー Wait! That’s not what matters right now! If you knew these would smell beforehand, couldn’t you have told me about it!? 

Kou: Eeh~? But you know, I figured that maybe you’d be into that sorta thing so I wouldn’t want to ruin the fun for you~

Laito: Ugh…Nfu~ Aren’t you a nice guy? (2)

Kou: Fufufu~

*Knock knock* 

Kou: Hm? 

You enter the room. 

Kou: Ah, M-neko-chan.

You tell them to get ready to go on stage. 

Kou: Hm? Get ready? Okay, rogar! We’ll be right there! …Come on, Laito-kun! Sounds like we’re up next. I’ll zip up your costume so turn around? 

*Rustle rustle* 

Laito: Uu…The stench is only getting worse…It’s giving me goosebumps…I’m positive it was a guy who wore this before me…!! That’s the only way to explain why my body is reacting so negatively to iーー 

Kou: Yeah, yeah, sure. 

Kou zips up his costume. 

Kou: There you go, ready to go!

*Rustle rustle* 

Laito: Blergh…Uurgh…Cough, cough…Uu…Cough, cough…

Kou: Oh come on. You’re obviously overreacting. 

Laito: Cough, cough…Then why don’t you try getting inside this costume as well? Cough, cough…Blergh…

Kou: Yeah, yeah, I know. M-neko-chan is waiting for us out front so let’s get going, okay? …Ah, all I have to do is put on this rabbit mask and then I’ll be good to go too. 

Kou puts on his mask. 

Kou: There we go! Let’s go, Laito-kun!

Laito: Easy for you to say, but my vision is very limited, I can barely tell where I’m going! …And the bad smell hasn’t gotten any better either!

Kou: Geez, guess I have no other choice. Come on, I’ll pull you by your hand, so let’s go. 

*Thud* 

Laito: Uu…What did I do to deserve this…!? 

Kou: Come on, stop complaining and let’s just get going. 

The two of them leave towards the main street.

*Thud* 

Kou: Hey there, M-neko-chan~!

Laito: Haah…

You ask Laito if he’s alright.

Laito: Huh? What makes you think I’m doing okay? 

You seem puzzled by his costume.

Laito: This costume? Good question. At first I thought it was meant to look like a worn-out gardening glove or some kind of wilted summer vegetable…

Kou: I’m pretty sure I was told it’s meant to resemble a rabbit? 

Laito: Haah!? In what way!? 

Kou: Don’t ask me! 

Laito: Actually, your costume is a rabbit as well, isn’t it? Yours is brand-new and actually looks like a proper rabbit, so why was I stuck with this monstrosity which looks like an old dish rag? 

Kou: I guess it’s bad karma? You were making inappropriate remarks to the lady in charge of the costume earlier, weren’t you? Anyway, we better get work soon! M-neko-chan, you’ll guide us, right? Let’s go! 

Laito: W-Wait! Hold up! I can’t see very well, remember!? …Bitch-chan, please give me your hand.

You grab hold of Laito’s hand.

Laito: Okay…I should be able to walk like this…

Kou: Hey? Why are you abusing the situation to have M-neko-chan hold your hand? 

Laito: Maybe you just have bad karma~ Nfu~

Kou: …Hmph. That’s my line!

Girls start squealing in the background. 

Laito: …Woah!? Come on, Kou-kun, it’s your time to shine. Why don’t you go keep those girls over there busy? In return, I’ll make sure to keep Bitch-chan company~

Kou: Haah!? You better do your job properly as well!

Laito: I mean, I won’t accomplish much when I look like rotten cabbage, will I?

*Rustle* 

Kou: Woah!?

Laito: Well then, Bitch-chan. Come here. Just ignore that guy and enjoy your time with me instead~ 

 You frown.

Laito: Work? Like I said earlier, Kou will do that in my place. Ahー You’re a very serious person, so I guess you’re scared of being scolded, aren’t you? In that case…Why don’t you join me inside this costume? It’s a little smelly, but I don’t dislike the sound of being pressed up against each other in this already stuffy costume to the point of it becoming even more sweaーー Uwah!? 

Laito is attacked by some of the fangirls. 

*Rustle rustle* 

Laito: Eh? Eeh!? What is happening…!? Uwaahーー 

*Rustle rustle* 

Kou: Huh? 

You seem confused.

Kou: What’s happening? I’d like to know as well, honestly. For some reason, those girls are more into the rabbit which looks like it was used as a doormat than my proper rabbit costume. 

Laito: H-Hey…! C-Calm down…!! …K-Kou-kun…! Bitch-chan! Save me…!!

*Rustle rustle* 

Kou: Fufu~ Why don’t you keep that hoard of girls busy for a while? ーー That being said…

Kou takes off his mask. 

Kou: …Phew~ Haah…Aaaahー! It was so hot in there! I’m drenched in sweat!

You give him a towel. 

Kou: Hm? A towel? How considerate of you, M-neko-chan! But while you’re at it…Won’t you wipe me down? I mean, just look at all this sweat!

*Rustle rustle* 

Kou: Yeah, just like that. …Ah, there’s still a lot of sweat on my nape over here, it feels really icky. 

*Rustle rustle*

Kou: Aah~ Amazing, M-neko-chan…It’s kind of making me excited. Say, rather than staying here amongst the crowd, why don’t we go over there to have some ‘fun’? 

The girls suddenly run up to Kou. 

Kou: …Huh? Wait? What? …Uwah!!

*Rustle rustle* 

Kou: Waaah!! Y-You girls…! Calm down…!

Laito: Ugh…

You walk over to Laito and ask if he’s alright.

Laito: ….Hm? I’m pretty sure you asked the same thing earlier and once again…Do I look alright to you? I’m a complete mess after a whole group of girls had their way with me…You were watching as well, weren’t you? ーー Anyway, I’m gonna take this costume off now, so could you please unzip the back? 

You help him out of the Kigurumi. 

*Rustle rustle* 

Laito: …Pwah! Haah, haah…

Laito takes a couple of deep breaths. 

Laito: Aah~ Nothing like…fresh air…

You seem worried. 

Laito: Nfu~ Thanks to you, I’ve been revived. Ahー I went through hell and back. I’d much rather have girls flock around me while I’m in this state. I mean, you want to experience the direct touch of skin, don’t you? Besides, I couldn’t exactly enjoy the situation while bathing in that horrible stench. 

Kou: Excuse me!? Why are the two of you having a leisurely chat over there!? Save me already!! …I’ll apologize for what I did earlier, okay!? 

Laito: You heard him. Say, Bitch-chan, what do you think we should do? 

You suggest that you help him. 

Laito: Eeh~? Don’t you think you’re spoiling Kou a little too much? Do you have any idea what I had to go through? 

Kou: Hurry…!!

Laito: Eeeh~? Let me think~? Unlike Bitch-chan, I’m not that forgiving~

Kou: Uwaaah…!!

Laito: Geez, guess I have no other choice. Well then…Huh!? T-They’re coming after me now!? Why!? 

The fangirls ask if he’s Karlheinz’ son. 

Laito: Eh? If I’m Karlheinz’ son? I mean, yeah but…? 

They go even more crazy. 

Laito: Why!? Who cares about that!? 

*Rustle rustle* 

Laito: H-Hold up…Calm down!

*Rustle rustle* 

Laito: E-Excuse me!? W-What is happening!? Help me…!!

*Rustle rustle* 

Kou: That’s my line! Stop coming after me…!

Laito: I mean, you’re an idol but I’m just your every-day pervert! Let me gーー Uwah!

*Rustle rustle* 

Laito: I know I asked to be ganged up earlier but when you keep pushing from all sides…My body won’t last…! Uwah! Waiーー Stop…!!

You start walking away.

Kou: H-Hold up…M-neko-chan, where are you going!? 

Laito: Do something about these girls!

You shake your head. 

Laito: Eh? We should fix it ourselves? No wayー! How could you!? 

Kou: Exactly, M-neko-chan! Do you really not care about me at all!? Don’t leave me behindーー!!

*Rustle rustle* 

Laito & Kou: Save me, Bitch-chan/M-neko-chanーー!!

ーー THE END ーー

[mothybean]

Average

Jinx x Fem!Reader

a/n: A buddy of mine recommended me to post my fics here sooo...

This is a MA story!

Explicit Sexual Themes

Minors DNI

Both characters are 18 years old.

(Y/N is depicted as 5"1 with mid length hair.)

---

Chapter 1. Ordinary

There’s nothing worse than being average. Being average never won anyone an award. It never allowed one to be picked first for sports to join their team. Most of all, being average almost always drove my thoughts to make me feel as if I wasn’t important; as if I didn't deserve to exist with the rest of the society. Not quite a nobody, but not quite somebody: a depressing limbo.

Average. 

The way the word rolled off my tongue made me want to rip it out, tainting my mouth with such a despicable word. I’ve been average pretty much all of my life. I would rather be super nerdy if that allowed attention from someone other than my small knit group of friends. I yearned to be something other than what most would consider an NPC. It was a curse. 

I huffed silently as I let the negative thoughts thunder inside my head, each pessimistic worry bouncing back and forth against my skull like a rabid squirrel trying to escape animal control. I slumped in my chair, my arms dangling off the sides with my cheek squished against my notes staring off into a bookshelf across from me. I really should be studying, but I just couldn’t bring myself to pick my head up. I was too busy drowning in my dismal self-reflection.  As I stared at a random thick leather book spine, another intrusive thought appeared. Did studying in the school’s library during my free period make me even more average? Should I study underneath a busy overpass? Or maybe in the middle of the street?

“You look lively.” I heard a familial voice say behind me. 

Still too upset to move, I lazily lifted my arm to give them a half-assed wave before letting my arm go limp again. I heard Calista snort before she stood in front of me, blocking my intense staring contest between the leather book and me. She placed her hands on her hips, giving me her infamous look of disbelief.

“Goin’ through it again, huh?” Her displeased look softened into one of empathy, taking the seat in front of her.

I nodded softly, my cheek slightly sliding the paper beneath it. “Oh, Y/n. There, there.” She sighed, giving my head a couple of pats. “Is it the usual Y/n thought special a la carte?” She chuckled, leaning on the table with their head supported by her hands.

“Yeah…” I trailed off, flashing her a pair of somber eyes. “When is it not?”

She dropped her pastel pink satchel onto the table, the thud resonating between the table and my head. Calista started to dig through her bag, various sounds emitting from it as she blindly searched for something. A few more seconds of noisy clutter clashing around echoed before she exclaimed, “Aha!” She triumphantly pulled out the item, hiding it within her closed fist and extended it out towards me.  “Give me your hand.” Calista demanded.

I pinched my brows together with curiosity as I held my palm under her fist. She opened her hand and a small blue wrapped candy fell into my palm. A Blue Raspberry Warhead. I should have known. Were they my favorite? Yes. Did she only ever give them to me when I was being “sour”? Also yes. I felt a smile tug at my lips as I unwrapped the citric acid coated shell, my mouth already salivating from thinking about it. I finally separated my cheek from the table, sitting up straight in my chair as I popped the vibrant blue candy in my mouth.

“Better?” She beamed, closing her bag before dropping it at her feet.

I rolled my eyes, trying to regulate the amount of saliva I was producing and nodded slightly. She knew me better than anyone else. I was grateful for her.

“Yeah. Thank you.” I replied, moving the candy to my opposite cheek.

She watched as I enjoyed my little sour delight, her face visibly concerned before giving a forced shutter.

“I don’t know how you can just eat those with a straight face. Any normal person would be puckering until their whole face was sucked in.” She stuck her tongue out and let out a low, guttural sound of disgust.

I couldn’t help but laugh at her comment, sticking out my blue stained tongue at her. I guess I wasn’t completely “normal” after all. Even if it was over something trivial as being sour resistant. I’ll take it.

“Our free period is almost over. Wanna walk to class with me?” She asked, glancing at her matching pink smart watch while simultaneously reaching for her bag.

“Mhm.” I mumbled, gathering my loose notes sprawled in front of me. 

As I gathered my belongings, the raucous laughter of a group of girls reverberated through the library, their footsteps echoing loudly as they made their way towards the exit. Not wanting to look like a weirdo, I discreetly stole glances at them, envying their perfect hair and bodies swaying with each step. They were the epitome of popularity in our school, often referred to as the It Girls given by yours truly. I felt jealousy surge through my veins. They looked like fucking models while I’m over here looking like Plain Jane’s sister, Basic Betty.

There was one girl in particular out of the bunch that stood out to me, Jinx. Not only was her name super edgy, but she was the most gorgeous girl to me. Her strikingly long blue hair was typically meticulously woven into two flawless braids, cascading gracefully down to her ankles. Her complexion? Flawless. Her outfits were always so trendy, constantly wearing a mixture of alternative, yet stylish comfy clothes. And, probably one of my favorite attributes about her, she had a sleeve of baby blue cloud tattoos going down her right arm that were almost always visible. That girl was just effortlessly oozing perfection. She was so lucky. 

“Ready?” I asked Calista, tearing my eyes away from the girls, hoisting a single backpack strap on my shoulder. She replied with a smile and started towards the exit.

As I tailed a few steps behind her, my mind once again started to plummet into a tumultuous sea of self-deprecating thoughts, each wave crashing against the shores of my consciousness with a relentless force, dragging me deeper into the abyss of despair. God, I wanted to be her.

[hetalia-club]

Finally i don't feel alone in thinking the fandom is toxic, because I had to deal with a horrible amount of ableism (for literal disabilities I have and apparently someone thought I was incontinent and basically compared incontinent people to diaperfuckers) and even still I have to hide behind anon due to the fact the fandom also has a problem with stalking too, since i have been stalked by people who made private accounts around me and screenshotting everything I said to the point I had to actually talk to someone from the Trevor Project because I genuinely did not feel safe

apologies for the rambling, this fandom isn't normal about disabled people

Honey I'm so sorry :(. Yes people are mean and something about this fandom normalizes it. Idk what it is exactly. People say it's 'always been this way' and while that's true it HAS gotten WORSE. mainly because the fandom is smaller and the assholes just sort of all form a cult together and thrive off each others negativity. They say the people with the worse opinions are the loudest and that couldn't be more true within this fandom.

Also the ability to go fully anonymous on this sight is both a blessing and a plague. I do feel that there SHOULD be a way to find out who the anon was. I myself have been consistently harassed by a Spain kin for almost 5 years. It used to really get to me and it doesn't anymore. I truly just no longer give a shit. I went on Hiatus for 2 years and they CAME BACK! Like they were waiting in the shadows and like a bond vilian just turned in their chair and were like "well well well...". It's just kind of funny if you think about it I live rent free in their dome and they don't even know me. An I can't block them because they are always on anon. So I just delete it and carry on with my life. Last year my therapist diagnosed me with Avoidant Personality Disorder and it answered a lot of questions I've always had about myself. Which means I am an extremely shy person chronically so. I take things to heart even if I shouldn't. I feel things very deeply for myself and for other people and animals. My therapist taught me some tools to try and help me deal and I got an increase in my meds. One of those was to not watch the news or actively sought out negative events because those destroy me. I just can't take it. It's a huge trigger for me and I wish it wasn't I don't like the idea that I make it about me' in some way. It doesn't really do much but it numbs me a bit and makes me care less. It still affects me sure but I feel too unbothered to care. My AI covers have been a HUGE stress relief for me and a good distraction from my feelings. But again it's just a distraction. They are little boosts of serotonin to make and it makes me happy and it makes me even happier when someone enjoys it.

The reason I tell you this is to help you understand that no one really gives a shit. That sounds harsh but please let me elaborate on that. I mean I have straight told people "I am legit too shy to function and I do not like to talk about certain things because it gives me major embarrassment that can last actual days. Can we find a new topic or maybe pivot." but they don't actually listen to me about it. And I understand that it's hard to remember everyone's little quirks but to constantly have to remind people and for them to just "Oh yeah sorry... anyway like I was saying" really stings. Because of my disorder you can imagine I have an extremely hard time speaking my mind and standing up for myself. I want everyone to like me I don't want anyone to dislike me to a fault. I will ignore my own feelings and emotions to let others speak about what makes them happy even if sometimes it does sting. So I actually very much do know exactly where you are coming from with that. Just please remember that these are strangers online. Yes they can say hurtful things but the second you close teh app they disappear. They don't actually matter. And YES I am fully aware that this is easier said than done please believe me on that.

This fandom does have a serious issue with ignoring and disrespecting others disabilities. Especially some that are not really heard about/normalized much like yours or mine. I 100% know everyone thinks I'm lying about my personality disorder being a real thing If they don't want to understand me I can't make them, which sucks but I have no control over that. I wish it were not that way but we can't change other people and the way they think/ act but we can work on ourselves and how we process harassment. I wish you luck anon, you're never alone on this bitch of an earth, love you <3

[tessatales]

Is That What You Think? (Bucky x Reader)

A/N: Hey! This is a quick Song Fic because I’ve had this song on repeat and I had a vivid image of several of the marvel crews reaction to hearing Reader sing this song. I picked one character to write for rather than a ‘Marvel character react’ kinda post (did that make sense?)

Anyway! Enjoy!

Theme: Comfort, Bucky helps, words of encouragement, you can read this as a mutual pining/love story or as a platonic friendship (up to you lovely’s)

Warnings: non really, swearing (mainly in the lyrics) negative self image.

*Bucky’s POV*

‘I don't go out much

'Cause parties are too much

And I don't need any more judgement’

Bucky didn’t make a habit of listening in to people singing in their room, but something about the lyrics mixed with the emotion in Y/N voice made him pause.

With trained silence, Bucky crept closer to the door, stoping when the muffled sounds through Y/N’s bedroom door became clearer.

‘So, you keep your gossip

You're cool and you're toxic

Already got someone who does it’

Bucky went to knock on the door, only to have his hand dangling in mid air as the door creaked open with the first tap. Through the now ajar door, Bucky watched as Y/N continued to sing, their large headphones deafening them to their visitors knocking.

‘It's me, and that voice in my head

Telling me that I'm better off dead

If you think that you can make me cry

More than me, myself and I

Well, go ahead and try’

Better off dead? Bucky thought, his body going still with the shock of the statement. Backing away from the door, the ex assassin took a deep breath as he felt the wall make contact with his back.

‘If you talk to me like I talk to myself

I'd give you the finger, I'd say, "Go to hell"

You can be mean, make it sing pretty well

But you can't say shit I don't say to myself’

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?” Bucky whispered as he moved slowly away from Y/N’s door.

‘Yes Mr Barnes?’ F.R.I.D.A.Y whispered back, the female voice so close that if the person existed, they’d of been right beside Bucky.

“How do I find that song?” Bucky asked, his voice returning to normal as he entered his rooms.

F.R.I.D.A.Y was silent for a moment.

“I could get the song up for you Mr Barnes. Or you could listening to it via Y/N’s public playlist” F.R.I.D.A.Y replied.

Bucky thought for a moment, before taking his headphones from the stand by his bed.

“Send it to my headphones please”

“Of course Mr Barnes” F.R.I.D.A.Y confirmed.

*A few hours later*

‘I wish you could hurt me

So maybe when I bleed

I could blame somebody else

But she's sick and she's twisted

A bit masochistic

There's no point in calling for help’

As the chorus played again, Bucky made another note in his journal, his handwriting barely legible, as he scribbled to keep up with his own thoughts.

‘Like you're useless, you're stupid

You're hard to love

No one likes you, you're crazy, you're totally fucked

If you talk to me, like I talk to myself

I talk to myself’

Bucky paused the song, barely able to keep his emotions in check as he re-read the lyrics he’d noted down. Useless? Stupid? Hard to love?

“How can you think this about yourself Doll?” Bucky asked the silent room, his heart thrumming against his chest uneasily. With a sigh, he pressed play, hoping the song didn’t get any worse.

‘It's me

Yeah, that voice in my head telling me

That I'm better off dead

If you think that you can make me cry

Well, me, myself and I

Make me wanna die’

As the chorus played for the final time, Bucky could hardly see, his eye a blur as he read and re-read everything he’d written in his tiny black book. The Winter Solider sat motionless and unseeing for a moment, allowing himself to process everything he’d heard before reaching for the red pen he kept spare on his nightstand and getting to work.

*Your POV*

“Whoever’s knocking on my door at 1 am better have a good reason!” You shout as you stumble sleepily to your bedroom door. After a particularly turbulent mental health day, you’d hoped the extra sleep would help prepare you for a better tomorrow, but apparently the person at your door didn’t care about your beauty sleep.

“Who- Bucky?” Stunned at the Winter Soldiers presence, you stop your angry rant before it comes. Bucky looks disheveled in your doorway, the weak hallway light barely hiding the messy hair and stress lines on his face.

“Who died?” You asked, only half joking. Bucky didn’t blink, only stepping forward to envelop you in a hug. You hadn’t realised how ally you’d needed one until you’d felt his arms cross your body firmly, holding you tightly against him as you felt your legs buckle slightly.

‘We love you Y/N” Bucky whispers into your hair, placing a kiss on your forehead before letting you go.

“Of course i do, why are you saying that?” You replied, frowning at the man in front of you.

“We all don’t say it enough. Here” Bucky said, handing you what seemed to be several pages from his notebook.

“What?” You said, barely getting the word out before Bucky walked away.

“Read it” was all he said as he retreated back down the hall. Closing the door, you stared at the tiny bundle of notes in your hand, confusion shaking you fully awake.

Sitting on your bed, you unravelled the notes, looking at each page scrawled with black and red writing. Some of the writing was almost eligible; although it only took you a few moments to realise what you were looking at.

The song

You could see it now, the lyrics you’d woken up with playing in your head; letting you know that today was not going to be a good day to be in your own head. But something was different.

You could see the original lyrics, all of them scribbled in deep black ink but it was the red notes on the side that crisscrossed between the margins of the song.

Like you’re useless, you’re stupid What a ridiculous statement!

You're hard to love Bullshit! We love you, I love you.

No one likes you, you're crazy, you're totally fucked If i could climb into your head and tell you how all of this is totally wrong, i would. But I’m not asking Stark or that ant dude about the science of that.

Further down, where the lyrics talked about death, your breath hitched at what Bucky had wrote.

Well, me, myself and I

Make me wanna die.

How long have you felt this way? Do you feel this way all the time? Or just sometimes? Why don’t you come to us? Why don’t you come to me? You know we’d be here for you. You are loved, you are smart. You couldn’t be hard to love if you tried! Please read these notes when you need them. Please don’t suffer alone. We’re here. - Bucky.

It was the little red heart scrawled next to his name that broke the dam inside. Your tears spilling over until they spilled onto the page. You dabbed at the paper quickly, stopping the liquid before it distorted the only below.

‘Thank you’ you whispered into the darkness. You’d express your thanks, your love and your gratitude in the morning, but right now, all you wanted to fall asleep to was the deep red letters etched on the paper in front of you.

A/N: Hey guys! I wasn’t sure really how to end this one- you know when you get a half baker idea but it just won’t go away until your write it down? Yeah that was this story- yet no matter how much I though- the rest of the story wouldn’t bake! So apart from that, I hope you guys enjoyed this little story- I hope to make some more one shot fics soon