#Just casually talking about his ex-fiancé

[scoliosisgoblin]

Some Jerry and Void stuff

[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.

[kckt88]

Jilted.

Summary:

After Y.N is jilted at the alter she recieves comfort from an unlikely source.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Mention of Infidelity, Smut, Kissing, Fingering, Oral Sex (F Recieving), P in V.

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 8278

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

Y.N sat on the soft grass, her knees pulled up to her chest as she stared out at the river flowing in front of her, the bottle of champagne gripped tightly in one hand.

It had been meant for a toast on what should have been the happiest day of her life—her wedding day—but now it served a different purpose entirely.

Her mascara ran in dark streaks down her cheeks, mixing with the tears that continued to fall as she wiped them away with an angry swipe.

She raised the bottle to her lips and took a deep swig, the bubbles burning her throat.

She wasn’t sure if the burning was from the alcohol or from the bitterness that welled up inside her. Jacaerys, she thought, her lips curling into a frown as his name echoed through her mind. Her fiancé—no, her ex-fiancé—had come to her before the ceremony and confessed to being in love with another woman.

He had left her here, heartbroken and humiliated, without so much as a second thought.

"Fucking coward," she muttered bitterly under her breath, taking another swig. He hadn’t even had the decency to tell the guests himself that the wedding was off.

No, he’d left that task to her, left her to stand in front of their family and friends and break the news.

The memory of their shocked faces, the murmurs of confusion and pity, was still fresh in her mind. She had never felt more embarrassed.

From the distance, she could hear the faint sounds of music drifting from the estate.

She had insisted everyone still attend, considering everything had already been paid for.

At least someone’s having a good time, she thought bitterly.

The life she had imagined with Jace, the children they had talked about, the future they had planned—it was all shattered now.

She let out a huff of frustration, bringing the bottle back to her lips for another long drink.

“How could he do this to me?” she whispered, her voice trembling. She thought they had been happy.

What had gone wrong?

As she wiped her face with the back of her hand, she heard footsteps approaching from behind. Her shoulders tensed, and she let out an annoyed sigh.

"I thought I said I wanted to be alone," she called out, her voice rough from the crying.

She turned her head, to see Aemond Targaryen, her ex fiancé’s uncle.

He stood there, his long silver hair shimmering in the moonlight as he casually leaned against a tree, lighting a cigarette.

He took a slow drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the evening air before meeting her gaze with his cool, ever-watchful eye.

He was dressed impeccably as always, but there was an unreadable expression on his face as he watched her.

“Well,” Y.N said, wiping away another tear and taking another sip from the champagne bottle. “Come to gloat?”

Aemond raised a brow, but said nothing for a moment, simply taking another drag before responding. “Hardly.” His voice was low, calm, as though nothing in the world could ever rattle him. He let the silence stretch out before he added, “Just thought you could use some company.”

Y.N snorted at that, shaking her head. “I’m not exactly great company right now.”

"Neither am I," Aemond replied dryly, his lips curling into the slightest hint of a smirk.

He moved to sit down beside her, still keeping a comfortable distance, the smoke from his cigarette curling up into the air.

She glanced at him, unsure whether to be annoyed by his presence or grateful for the distraction. “You don’t strike me as the comforting type.”

Aemond chuckled softly, the sound almost surprising in its warmth. "I’m not. But for you I shall make an exception” he said, glancing out at the river.

Y.N stared at the cigarette Aemond held loosely between his fingers, the smoke swirling into the air in lazy patterns.

Without a word, she reached over and plucked it from his hand, bringing it to her lips for a long, deliberate drag.

The familiar burn of nicotine filled her lungs, and for a moment, she closed her eyes, savouring the feeling she hadn’t allowed herself in years.

Aemond arched a brow, clearly surprised. "I didn’t know you smoked."

Y.N exhaled the smoke with a scoff, her lips curling bitterly. "I used to. But I gave it up because Jace didn’t like it." She took another drag, the resentment heavy in her voice. "But he’s not here, is he? So, fuck it."

Aemond huffed a low laugh at that, when Y.N offered him the cigarette back he shook his head, before pulling another from his pack and lighting it effortlessly. "Fair enough."

Y.N watched the flame briefly before taking another long drag from her cigarette, letting the smoke slip from her lips in a quiet sigh.

The music from the distant reception still played faintly in the background, a cruel reminder of the day that should have been hers.

“Has Jace’s mother and stepfather left yet?” she asked, the bitterness creeping back into her voice.

Aemond took a drag before answering, his tone as nonchalant as ever. “Yes. They couldn’t get out of there quick enough.”

Y.N scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “No doubt Rhaenyra’s gone to coddle her darling boy. It’ll all be my fault, of course. I drove him into another woman’s arms, or whatever bullshit excuse she decides to come up with.” Her voice was sharp with resentment. “Seems to be a talent of hers—blaming others for her sons’ actions.”

Aemond’s lips curled slightly as he glanced at her. “I’ve experienced that myself.”

Y.N knew exactly what he was referring to. Her gaze lingered on the scar that marred the left side of his face, the reminder of the day Jace’s younger brother, Lucerys, had slashed out Aemond’s eye when they were children.

Aemond had never received an apology. Lucerys had never been punished. Another one of Rhaenyra’s sons shielded from the consequences of his actions.

She took another drag, feeling the cigarette burn down to its end before stubbing it out in the grass. Her thoughts swirled darkly, anger and confusion twisting together.

She unscrewed the champagne bottle again and took a swig, then wordlessly offered it to Aemond. He accepted without hesitation, taking a drink before handing it back.

“There’s one thing I can’t understand,” Y.N muttered, staring at the bubbles rising inside the bottle.

Aemond flicked ash from his cigarette, giving her a sidelong glance. “What’s that?”

Y.N shook her head, her brow furrowing. “If Jace is in love with someone else, it’s obviously been going on for a while-why not just end things with me? Why ask me to marry him? Why go through all the planning, the ceremony, spending all this money—for it to end up like this?”

Aemond took a slow drag, his expression contemplative. When he spoke, his voice was cold and matter-of-fact. “Because he’s a fucking spineless coward.”

Y.N huffed in agreement, her lips tightening in frustration. "You got that right." In a sudden, angry gesture, she reached up and ripped the veil from her head, throwing it to the ground beside her.

The delicate fabric fluttered briefly before settling in the grass, forgotten.

Aemond stifled his cigarette in the dirt, watching her with a quiet intensity. Then he noticed the way her shoulders had started to shake ever so slightly, her body trembling from the cool breeze now settling in for the evening.

Without a word, he shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

Y.N blinked in surprise, turning her head slightly to look at him. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice softening.

Aemond nodded, his sharp gaze lingering on her face. He noticed the fresh tears that were sliding down her cheeks, the pain evident despite her attempts to mask it with bitterness and anger.

For a brief moment, he hesitated, unsure if she would accept comfort from him.

He shifted slightly, reaching out but pausing just before his arm could settle around her shoulders. “Is it okay?” he asked quietly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

Y.N gave a small nod, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

With that, Aemond wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into a warm, firm embrace. Y.N didn’t resist.

She leaned into him, burying her face into his shoulder as the tears came faster now, her body shaking with quiet sobs.

He held her tightly, letting her cry without saying a word, offering her the kind of quiet strength she hadn’t known she needed.

After a few minutes of quiet sobbing in Aemond's embrace, Y.N suddenly pulled away, furiously swiping the tears from her cheeks.

Her jaw tightened as she shook her head, her voice firm with newfound resolve. "I’ve shed too many tears over that man today, and I refuse to cry anymore."

Aemond, watching her closely, reached into his pocket and pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief. "May I?" he asked, his voice as gentle as it had been all evening.

Y.N hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”

Aemond shifted closer, lifting his hand and gently placing it under her chin, tilting her face up toward him.

His touch was unexpectedly soft as he wiped away the stray tears that still clung to her cheeks, dabbing at the streaks of mascara with deliberate care.

His fingers brushed against her skin, and for a moment, their eyes locked, the spark of something unspoken passing between them.

Neither of them moved for a moment, but then their faces inched closer, the tension in the air palpable.

Y.N’s breath caught in her throat, and Aemond’s hand paused under her chin, his gaze flicking briefly to her lips—

Then his phone buzzed, shattering the moment.

Aemond blinked, his expression shifting as he reluctantly pulled his phone from his pocket.

He glanced at the screen, his thumb brushing across it to check the message.

It was a text from Helaena: Heading home with Aegon. You coming?

Aemond’s lips thinned for a moment before he typed back a quick response: No. I’m staying with Y.N.

He waited a moment, then Helaena’s reply came through: Take care of her.

Aemond slipped his phone back into his pocket, turning his attention back to Y.N, whose eyes were still clouded with the remnants of her earlier emotions.

“Is everything alright?” she asked, her voice quiet but steady.

"It was just Helaena," Aemond said with a small shrug. "She’s heading home with Aegon and asked if I was coming."

Y.N gave a half-hearted smile, her tone self-conscious. “You can leave if you want to. You don’t have to stay with me.”

Aemond looked at her, his gaze unwavering. "I’ll stay if you want me to."

Y.N’s eyes softened at his words. “I’d like that”.

Aemond glanced down at the empty champagne bottle between them, an amused smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "We might need more to drink, though," he pointed out, his tone light as he lifted the bottle, giving it a little shake.

Y.N huffed a quiet laugh, the tension in her chest easing ever so slightly. "I’ve got a mini bar in my room," she said, standing up slowly.

She clutched his suit jacket tighter around her shoulders, the warmth of the fabric still clinging to her.

Aemond stood up as well, slipping his hands into his pockets as he gave her a small, knowing smile. "Lead the way."

Y.N met his gaze for a moment before turning toward the estate, her steps steady, the weight of the evening still heavy on her—but somehow, with Aemond beside her, it didn’t feel quite so unbearable.

As Y.N unlocked the door to her room, Aemond’s sharp eye immediately took in the sight before him.

The rose petals on the bed, arranged meticulously in the shape of a heart, a cruel reminder of what this room had been meant for.

The honeymoon suite. He glanced over at Y.N as she kicked off her heels without a second thought, crossing the room and draping his jacket over the back of a chair before heading straight for the mini bar.

"Don’t you have to pay for that?" Aemond asked, raising an amused eyebrow as he watched her pull out a handful of miniature bottles.

Y.N flashed him a mischievous smile. “Yes, but it’s not me paying. It’s Jace-he used his credit card to pay for the room-”

Aemond let out a genuine laugh, the sound rich and deep as he crossed the room. “Well, in that case-” He grabbed a handful of the tiny bottles, particularly all the whiskeys.

He poured them each a drink, watching as Y.N downed the amber liquid in one go, grimacing at the harsh burn it left behind.

Y.N sat down on the bed with a soft thud, laughing as Aemond handed her another drink. He tilted his head, curious. “What’s so funny?”

She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “When I woke up this morning, I never imagined I’d end up in the honeymoon suite-with Jace’s uncle.”

Aemond smirked as he leaned against the bedpost, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Could be worse. You could be with Jace.”

Y.N burst out laughing, shaking her head. “Yeah, and none the wiser to his cheating.”

Aemond’s expression darkened for a moment before he gave a slow nod. “Blessing in disguise, then.”

Y.N raised her glass, her eyes locking with his. “Here’s to spending the night in far better company.”

Aemond’s smirk widened. “Here, here.” They both downed their drinks in unison, the liquid burning all the way down, and Aemond poured them each another.

As the silence settled between them, Y.N leaned back slightly, her gaze drifting over him with a curious intensity. “You know,” she said slowly, “I always thought you didn’t like me.”

Aemond looked at her, caught off guard. “No-why would you think that?”

She shrugged, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass. “You never looked at me when I was around. Never spoke to me unless you had to.”

Aemond sighed softly, running a hand through his silver hair. “It’s not that I disliked you,” he said quietly. “I just-find it easier to push people away.”

Y.N tilted her head, her expression softening. “That’s not a healthy way to live.”

Aemond gave her a wry smile, his gaze flickering with something like understanding. “Neither is changing who you are to suit someone else’s idea of you.”

Y.N blinked at that, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Aemond took another sip of his drink before speaking. “I mean how you changed when you started up with Jace. You stopped being-you.”

Y.N scoffed softly, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What would you know about that?”

Aemond’s voice was steady, unflinching. “Oh, I know plenty. Like how you gave up smoking because he didn’t like it. How you turned down that dream job offer because Jace threw a tantrum about you being away too often. And how you stopped dyeing your hair because he didn’t like the colour.”

Y.N opened her mouth to argue but quickly closed it, swallowing hard as she looked away. “That’s not—”

Aemond cut her off, his voice firm. “What happened? Of course it is. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me. Any man who treats a woman like that is no man at all.”

Y.N looked down at her glass, biting her lip. “Maybe…”

Aemond scoffed, sitting down on the bed beside her. “There’s no ‘maybe’ about it,” he said, his voice low but insistent. “You don’t need to change yourself for anyone. You are perfect just the way you are.”

Y.N turned to face him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You think I’m perfect?”

Aemond downed the last of his whiskey, his gaze intense as it locked onto hers. “Yes,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “I always thought so.”

Y.N’s heart skipped a beat at his words, her pulse quickening as she leaned forward just slightly, her voice barely audible. “So, you wouldn’t change me?”

Aemond shook his head, his expression sincere. “No. I like you just the way you are.”

The air between them shifted, thick with tension as Y.N slowly leaned in closer, her gaze drifting to his lips.

Without thinking, she pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. Aemond froze for a moment, caught off guard, but then responded, the kiss deepening as something ignited between them.

After a breathless second, he pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against hers. “I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with restraint.

Y.N shook her head, her hand cupping his cheek as she looked into his eyes. “You’re not. I want this. I want you.”

Aemond’s resolve crumbled at her words. He leaned in again, and this time, the kiss was urgent, filled with all the emotions neither of them had spoken aloud.

Aemond’s hands began to roam over Y.N’s body, his fingers gripping the fabric of her wedding dress.

In his desperation, he tugged too hard, the sound of ripping fabric breaking the silence. He froze for a moment, pulling back, eyes wide with regret as he muttered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—"

But Y.N shook her head, a wicked smile curling at the corners of her mouth. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice husky with desire. “Rip it some more.”

Aemond’s breath caught, a soft laugh escaping him as he eagerly obeyed. His hands found the delicate silken fabric again, tearing at it with abandon.

The sound of buttons popping off echoed in the room, the gown splitting further under his grasp, until the once-pristine dress hung in tatters from her body.

His eye darkened with lust as he took in the sight of her, and before she could say another word, his mouth was on hers again, kissing her with a fervour that sent heat coursing through her veins.

Y.N moaned against his lips, her arms winding around his neck to pull him closer, pressing his lean body against hers.

As their kiss deepened, her fingers tangled in his long, silvery hair, tugging gently, and Aemond groaned into her mouth, his hips shifting toward her at the sensation.

Her hand trailed up to the leather strap of his eyepatch, her fingers brushing it tentatively. She broke the kiss just enough to whisper, “Can I take this off?”

Aemond stiffened for a moment, hesitation flashing in his eye. "It’s-unsightly," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want to scare you."

Y.N shook her head softly, her thumb brushing over the strap reassuringly. “It’s okay-you could never scare me”

He closed his eye, giving a small nod of consent, and Y.N carefully removed the patch, letting the worn leather slip from his face.

She gazed upon him, her breath catching as she took in the sight of the jagged scar that bisected his face, the brilliant sapphire gleaming where his left eye once was.

Y.N didn’t flinch or recoil. Instead, she reached up, cupping his face gently in her hands.

She pressed a soft kiss to the scar, her lips brushing over it with reverence, and whispered, “You are so beautiful.”

A single tear slid down Aemond’s cheek, and he pulled her into another kiss, this one tender and full of unspoken emotion.

Y.N responded with equal fervour, her hands running down his chest, fingers slipping beneath his shirt, feeling the hard muscle underneath.

As their bodies pressed even closer together, her hand drifted lower, fingers brushing over the bulge straining against his trousers.

Aemond’s breath hitched, a low groan vibrating in his throat as she cupped him, the pressure sending a rush of heat through him.

“I need you” exclaimed Aemond quietly as he pulled Y.N into his arms and ran his nose up and down her cheek, his hot breath tickling her skin.

“Then take me” whispered Y.N as the rest of her ruined dressed slipped from her body.

“Not wearing a bra, you naughty girl” muttered Aemond as he pressed a firm kiss to Y.N’s shoulder and directed her to sit on the bed.

Aemond’s singular blue eye roved over Y.N’s body, thinking how beautiful she was.

“Open”

Aemond smirked as Y.N obediently opened her mouth; he ran his thumb slowly over her plump lower lip before slipping it inside her mouth.

Without further prompting Y.N closed her mouth and began to suck, her tongue sliding along his thumb, Aemond watched as a small trickle of drool made its way down her chin.

He leaned forward and ran his tongue over her chin as Y.N continued to suck the thumb he had in her mouth.

“Such a good girl”

He removed his thumb and grasped Y.Ns chin, holding her mouth open as he leaned forward and spat in her open mouth.

“Swallow”

Aemond growled as he watched Y.N obey and swallow, her eyes never leaving his.

“Give me your hands” ordered Aemond as he slowly slipped off his tie and his shirt.

Y.N placed her wrists together and held them towards Aemond.

Aemond pressed Y.N backwards, so she was laying on the bed, he loomed over her as he hooked his long fingers on the tie and moved her arms above her head.

“Aemond” gasped Y.N.

“Don’t move your hands” said Aemond sternly.

Aemond pressed a series of delicate kisses to Y.N’s neck before he nipped at her ear lobe.

“Be a good girl for daddy” whispered Aemond as he moved his lips to hers.

Y.N whimpered as Aemond pulled away and began moving down, pressing kisses and running his tongue over her body as he went.

Aemond could still smell vanilla infused lotion that she had no doubt massaged into her skin earlier in the day.

When Y.N began squirming, Aemond knelt down beside the bed, reaching to remove her knickers, he bunched them up his hand before he pressed the white lacy material to his face, inhaling the scent of Y.N’s arousal, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

After stuffing the underwear into his pocket, Aemond slid his hands up Y.N’s smooth legs and held open her thighs as he moved forward and teasingly pressed his nose against her slick folds.

“A-Aemond”

“Hm, so wet for me baby” rasped Aemond.

“P-Please”

“Please-what?” asked Aemond.

“Please daddy. I’ve been so good” moaned Y.N as Aemond’s mouth descending on her cunny.

Ravenously, he pressed into Y.N’s core with his tongue, in and out.

Remembering that Aemond had ordered her not to move, Y.N clutched the bedspread above her head, her fingers digging into the fabric.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core and lashed hard at her clitoris with his tongue, pulling on it with his lips.

He was hard, fast and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunt.

Y.N ground down on Aemond, hard; his tongue speared deeper inside her, and she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

“That’s it come for me baby” urged Aemond, his fingers reaching forward to caress her pearl.

“AEMOND” screamed Y.N arching off the bed as she peaked.

“Hm” muttered Aemond as he pressed a series of kisses to Y.N’s inner thighs.

“P-Please A-Aemond. Need you” begged Y.N.

Aemond rose from the floor, his chin shining with her slick, he smirked as he swiped the back of his hand over chin and then ran his tongue over his hand, savouring the delicious taste of Y.N.

Aemond reached forward and manoeuvred Y.N onto all fours, pressing her face into the mattress,  as she braced her weight on her arms.

Y.N was a delectable sight indeed, her arse in the air, her wet cunt on display, gods he needed to be inside her, but first he reached over her body and quickly untied her hands.

Throwing his tie over his shoulder, Aemond squeezed the meat of her arse before he slapped her, delighting in Y.N’s squeal of surprise.

He then bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his large hands kneading the soft pale flesh, before he sunk his teeth into her.

“AEMOND” squealed Y.N.

“Hmmm”

“P-Please Aemond” whispered Y.N, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the mattress.

Aemond stuck his finger in his mouth before he ran it over her puckered hole.

“Is this alight?” breathed Aemond.

“Y-Yes. Put it inside me. I can take it” whimpered Y.N.

“Tell me-Tell me if it’s too much” replied Aemond as he slowly pressed his finger inside her.

“Ooh Aemond, yes. Please. More” babbled Y.N as he moved his finger in and out before adding a second.

“Your doing so well-my darling” moaned Aemond as he moved his fingers inside Y.N.

“I want you-please Aemond”

“Now baby, I’m going to fuck you until you scream” said Aemond, delighting in the way Y.N began nodding and whimpering.

“Y-Yes” whimpered Y.N

“FUCK” groaned Aemond as he removed his trousers and took his cock in hand and began rubbing it along Y.N’s wet folds.

“Please, daddy. I want it-I want you, please don’t make me wait anymore” begged Y.N.

“Fuck, that’s it” moaned Aemond his hard length filling her cunny in one smooth stroke.

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Y.N, his fingers in her arse and his cock deep in her cunt was so good.

Aemond began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts, his fingers moving in rhythm with his cock.

“Harder-more-please” wailed Y.N

“My dirty girl” growled Aemond, his fingers moving faster.

“Aemond-” whimpered Vaelynn.

“That’s it-take it-take all of me” muttered Aemond as he removed his fingers, and grabbed hold of Y.N’s hips and increased the pace of his thrusts.

Y.N took one of Aemonds hands that was on her hip and brought it to the back of her head.

Knowing what Y.N wanted, Aemond placed his hand on the back of her head and pushed her face into the mattress, her back arching.

His cock reaching deep inside her as he moved with such ferocity it could rival an animal, his long silver hair sticking to his sweaty back.

Aemond then grasped both of Y.N’s arms and held them behind her back as he pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed around the room.

Y.N’s cries of pleasure were muffled by the mattress, her face buried in the soft fabric.

Her body arched in response to Aemond’s relentless rhythm, each cry escaping her lips in a series of desperate moans that reverberated through the room.

Aemond’s grip on Y.N was fierce, his movements relentless. He drove into her with a force that seemed almost brutal, but Y.N took every thrust with an almost frantic eagerness.

Her body trembled under him, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she surrendered completely to the intensity of their coupling.

“Fuck-that’s it” moaned Aemond.

He released Y.N’s arms and then took hold of her hair, twisting his fingers into her messy tresses before he pulled her backwards, her sweaty back colliding with his chest.

Aemond held Y.N tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

One hand grasped her hip, his blunt fingers digging into her flesh. Whilst his other released her hair and moved to her throat, squeezing gently.

“Give it to me please” pleaded Y.N her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder, her arm reaching behind her to tangle in his hair as their lips connected in a messy, passionate kiss.

Aemond felt his balls draw in; his peak was approaching.

But he didn’t want to finish like this, he wanted to see her face as she came around his cock.

Aemond withdrew, ignoring Y.N whimper of protest as he rolled her onto her back and slipped inside her again.

Y.N wrapped her legs around Aemond’s waist, drawing him closer as he began to thrust inside her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“A-Aemond, I’m close-please” begged Y.N.

He snaked a hand down Y.N’s body and played with her clitoris, teasing it with his fingers.

“Oh gods” moaned Y.N as her whole-body began to shake.

“Come for me, love” breathed Aemond, his thrusts starting to jerk.

He was close. So close. Just a little more-

Y.N screamed as her desperately needed peak exploded from her body, making every limb tremble as her body bucked around Aemond’s cock.

Aemond’s own peak nearly took him off his feet. The sensation took over his body as he spilled rope after rope of his seed, he had no recollection of what he did or said for the good minute it took for his peak to crest, then subside.

He had never come so hard in his life.

For a moment he held himself over Y.N’s body, as his cock softened inside her.

After a few minutes Aemond gently pulled out and rolled onto the mattress beside Y.N, he reached forward and enveloped her into a tight hug.

“I-I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Not at all” replied Y.N smiling.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room as Y.N slowly stirred awake.

She felt the warmth of Aemond's body pressed against hers, his arms wrapped securely around her, holding her close. For a moment, she just lay there, taking in the strange turn her life had taken.

Yesterday, she had woken up believing she was about to marry the man she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with. But instead of the dream wedding she had envisioned, Jacaerys had cruelly abandoned her, leaving her humiliated and heartbroken.

And now, here she was, wrapped in the embrace of his uncle, having spent what should have been her wedding night in a completely unexpected way.

Y.N bit her lip as she thought back to the events of the night before. She could still feel the ache of Jace’s betrayal, but perhaps Aemond had been right—it was a blessing in disguise.

Better to have been spared more pain in the long run. As hurtful as Jace’s actions had been, Y.N knew deep down that the relationship had been built on shaky ground.

She had been bending herself to fit into his world, while he had been unfaithful and deceitful.

Her mind drifted to the night she’d spent with Aemond. A smile tugged at her lips as she remembered how incredible it had been.

It had been a long time since she had felt so wanted, so fully satisfied. Shamelessly, she couldn’t help but think that Aemond’s prowess in bed far surpassed Jace’s by miles.

The thought made her giggle softly to herself.

Aemond stirred beside her, pressing a lazy kiss to her shoulder. His voice was still heavy with sleep as he asked, “What’s so funny?”

Y.N turned slightly in his arms, her smile widening as she looked at him. “Just a thought I had.”

Aemond hummed, his interest piqued. “And what would that be?”

Y.N smirked, biting her lip playfully. “How skilled you are in bed,” she teased, watching as a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, though his cheeks flushed a faint pink.

He chuckled, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with amusement. “Not too bad yourself,” he added, his tone teasing as he pressed another kiss to her shoulder.

Y.N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but feel a little flutter of satisfaction at the compliment.

She shifted in his arms, feeling his warmth against her skin. “Do you fancy some breakfast?” she asked, her voice light. “I can order room service.”

Aemond’s lips grazed her shoulder again, and he hummed in consideration. “Sure,” he said, but then he shifted, his hard cock pressing against her body. “But in a little while-there’s something else I’d rather have first.”

Y.N giggled as she felt his hard cock pressed against her, his desire unmistakable. She turned her head to meet his gaze, eyes bright with amusement and anticipation. “Oh?” she teased, her voice playful.

Aemond leaned in, his lips brushing against hers, the heat between them quickly rekindling as his hand slid down her side, pulling her closer.

“Mmm,” he murmured against her lips, “definitely.”

Y.N giggled again, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed him deeply, already feeling the sparks of another passionate encounter beginning to ignite.

Perhaps this wasn't the wedding night she had imagined, but in Aemond’s arms, she felt a sense of comfort and desire she hadn’t known she was missing.

And as they lost themselves in each other once more, Y.N realized that maybe, just maybe, the unexpected turns in life could lead to something far better than what she had planned.

Y.N sat across from Aemond at the small table, the remnants of their breakfast spread between them.

The atmosphere was quiet, but not uncomfortable, until her phone buzzed, vibrating against the table. She glanced down, her face stiffening slightly as she saw Jace’s name flashing on the screen.

Without a second thought, she rejected the call and set the phone back down, picking up her fork as if nothing had happened.

Aemond raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you answer?”

Y.N shrugged, keeping her gaze on her plate. “I have nothing to say to him. If he’s calling to apologize, he can stick it up his arse.”

Aemond huffed a laugh, his lips twitching in amusement. “Fair enough. But you’ll have to talk to him at some point, won’t you?”

Y.N shook her head, her expression firm. “Not really.”

Aemond frowned slightly, curiosity evident in his face. “Don’t you live together?”

“No,” Y.N said, taking another bite of her food. “We still have our separate apartments. We planned to move in together after we got married.”

Aemond cocked his head to the side, a hint of confusion on his face. “That’s a little odd, isn’t it?”

Y.N let out a small sigh, her fork stilling on her plate. “At the time, I didn’t think it mattered. But looking back-I guess it was just Jace’s way of keeping his affair hidden. Separate lives, separate apartments. Made it easier for him to lie.”

Aemond noticed the sadness in her eyes, the way her posture slumped ever so slightly as she spoke.

Reaching across the table, he gently took her hand in his. His thumb grazed over her knuckles, and his voice softened. “If you wish to forget what happened between us last night and this morning, I’ll understand.”

Y.N looked up at him, shaking her head immediately. “No,” she said firmly. “I don’t want to forget. I just-I’ve realized I’ve been living a lie for so long and I’ve spent years with the wrong man.”

Aemond smiled softly, his grip loosening as he let go of her hand. “The right man is out there somewhere,” he said, his voice low and sure.

She smiled at his words, though there was a flicker of something deeper in her eyes. Checking the time on her phone, Y.N bit her lip in thought.

“What are you doing?” Aemond asked, sensing her change in mood.

Y.N hesitated for a moment before answering, “I, uh-was the one who paid for the two-week honeymoon in Italy. It was supposed to be a surprise for Jace, but obviously, he’s not going anymore.” She gave a soft, bitter laugh. “But I’m not about to waste all that money. I still plan to go. The flight leaves later tonight, so I’ve got time to go home, grab my suitcase, and head to the airport.”

Aemond nodded. “That sounds nice.”

She was quiet for a moment, her mind clearly racing, before she suddenly blurted, “Would you like to come with me?”

Aemond blinked, surprised by her offer. “Me?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice growing quieter. “I have an extra ticket, after all-”

Aemond hesitated, an apologetic expression crossing his face. “I’m grateful for the invite, truly, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

The embarrassment was immediate, and Y.N could feel her cheeks burning. “-Oh, it’s okay,” she said quickly, forcing a smile as she pushed her plate away. “I-I shouldn’t have asked.”

She began fiddling with her fingers, her appetite suddenly gone. Aemond watched her closely, noticing the way her mood shifted, her body tensing with the sting of rejection.

His gaze followed as her hands moved to her engagement ring. Without a word, Y.N slipped it off her finger and placed it gently on the table, the small band glinting in the morning light.

“Have I upset you?” Aemond asked softly.

Y.N shook her head, though her eyes remained downcast. “No,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “It was my mistake. Last night was obviously just a one-time thing, and I let my imagination get the better of me.”

Aemond’s heart sank, guilt gnawing at him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, though he knew his apology would do little to ease her pain.

“There’s no need to say sorry,” Y.N replied, wiping at her eyes discreetly as she gathered her things. “It’s my fault.”

Aemond’s chest tightened as he watched her silently cry, her movements hurried and full of hurt. She stood up and walked over to the corner of the room, grabbing her ruined wedding dress, now nothing more than shredded fabric, and threw it into the bin without hesitation.

Once all her things were packed, she picked up the spare plane ticket—the one meant for Jace—and crumpled it in her hand before tossing it in the bin as well.

The tears were falling freely now, though she tried her best to keep her composure.

Y.N turned to Aemond, her voice barely above a whisper as she said, “Thank you-for everything,” before quickly leaving the room, the door closing softly behind her.

Aemond sat at the table, his fingers toying absentmindedly with the engagement ring Y.N had left behind.

The silence of the room felt suffocating, and the more he thought about what had just happened, the deeper the pit in his stomach grew.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

His mind drifted back to the first time Jace had introduced him to Y.N. He remembered the surge of jealousy that had ripped through him, a sensation so raw and unexpected.

Jace had Y.N—and he didn’t. She had been more than just beautiful, though her beauty had certainly caught his eye.

It was her intelligence, her wit, and her infectious laugh that had captivated him. He could still hear it in his mind, the way her laughter lit up a room and made anyone within earshot want to join in.

Aemond had tried to bury those feelings. He had told himself over and over that if Y.N was happy with Jace, then so be it. He cared about her enough to wish her well, even if it meant stepping aside.

But the more he tried to forget her, the harder it became. His feelings for her had been relentless, unyielding, and he hated how they refused to fade no matter how many other women he took to bed.

None of them had been her. None of them even came close.

When Jace and Y.N’s wedding had been announced, Aemond had dreaded the thought of attending. The idea of watching her marry his nephew, of seeing her in a dress meant for someone else—it had been too much.

He’d almost convinced himself not to go. But in the end, he had decided it would be the perfect opportunity to say goodbye, to let go of whatever foolish hope he had clung to for so long.

Then the wedding had been called off. The moment he had heard about Jace’s cowardly confession, something inside him had snapped.

He had always disliked Jace, but now, now he hated him.

Jace had cheated on Y.N, broken her heart, and abandoned her on the day they were supposed to be married.

The bastard had left her alone and humiliated in front of everyone. Rhaenyra and Daemon, of course, had rushed to coddle their darling son, leaving Y.N to fend for herself.

It made Aemond sick.

When Y.N had run out of the room, her voice thick with tears as she insisted that everyone should still enjoy the reception, Aemond couldn’t just stand by. He had to find her. He had to know she was alright.

And when he did find her—sitting by the riverbank, her hair a mess, mascara running down her cheeks—she had still been the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

But seeing her there, so broken and alone, had torn at something deep within him. He knew she didn’t have any family left to lean on, her parents long gone, and her grandmother recently passed.

She had no one. So, he had sat beside her, intending to comfort her, to offer whatever solace he could. He never expected how the night would turn out.

It had been one of the best nights of his life.

Taking Y.N to bed hadn’t just been a fleeting moment of lust. It was something Aemond had fantasized about, but actually experiencing her, feeling her trust, her passion—it had been indescribable.

The way she responded to him, the way he could bring her pleasure—it was something he had dreamed of for so long, and the reality of it was far better than he ever imagined. Even that morning, waking up with her in his arms, he had felt something he hadn’t in years.

But then he had ruined it. He had ruined everything.

His words, his hesitation—they had shattered the fragile connection they’d built in the span of one night.

He replayed the scene over and over in his mind, the way Y.N had pulled away from him, the hurt in her eyes when she asked him to come with her to Italy.

He cursed himself for not saying yes. He’d watched as she silently cried, throwing the wedding dress in the bin, discarding the plane ticket, and leaving him behind with nothing but regret.

Aemond stood up suddenly, his chest tight as he walked over to the bin. He reached in and picked up the crumpled plane ticket, smoothing it out in his hands.

As he stared at it, the weight of the decision he knew he must make pressed down on him.

Y.N stood in the queue at the airport, clutching her passport and boarding ticket. Despite the whirlwind of emotions from the last 24 hours, she was determined to make the most of this trip.

It was supposed to be her honeymoon, but now, it was a chance to truly move on from Jace—and perhaps even from Aemond.

The thought of him stung more than she wanted to admit, but she knew she had to clear her head, away from all of it.

The boarding attendants had just opened the doors, and people began filing onto the plane. Y.N took a deep breath, ready to step forward when suddenly, she heard her name being called.

Her heart skipped a beat. She turned, and there he was—Aemond, rushing toward her, his long strides quick and desperate.

Before she could say a word, he was in front of her, wrapping his arms around her. His apologies poured out between kisses—on her forehead, her cheeks, her lips—as he held her tightly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he kept saying, breathless and frantic.

Y.N blinked in surprise, her brain trying to catch up with what was happening. "Aemond, what—what are you doing here?" she asked as he finally pulled back, his eyes full of urgency.

Aemond took her hand and gently pulled her out of the queue, leading her to the side. "I would've gotten here sooner, but I couldn’t find my damn passport,” he explained, almost laughing at himself, “and then I had to pay to change the name on the ticket.”

Y.N stared at him, still trying to comprehend. "But you said it wasn’t a good idea—coming with me," she reminded him, her voice tinged with confusion. “What changed?”

Aemond let out a breath, shaking his head. "I shouldn’t have said that," he admitted, regret heavy in his voice. "Because I’m a complete idiot."

Y.N crossed her arms, raising a brow. "You can say that again."

He smiled, but it was fleeting, his eye soft as he looked at her. “I’ve spent too many years watching from the sidelines, Y.N. Letting my feelings fester and pushing you away because I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought you were happy with Jace, and that was enough for me. But I was wrong. And I know it’s probably going to take time, but I want to prove to you that I can be the man you deserve.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Years?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond nodded. “Years. But I kept it to myself because-I thought you were happy, and that’s all I ever wanted for you.”

Before Y.N could respond, the flight attendant interrupted. "Ma'am, are you getting on this flight?" she asked, her voice professional but expectant.

Y.N looked back at the attendant, momentarily torn. She handed over her ticket and passport. “Yes,” she said, glancing back at Aemond.

As the attendant checked her details and nodded, Y.N turned back to Aemond, her heart racing. “What about you?” she asked softly, her emotions all over the place.

Aemond’s hesitation lasted only a moment. He met her gaze, and the vulnerability in his eye was unmistakable. “Please,” he said quietly, “give me a chance.”

The attendant turned to Aemond. “Sir, are you getting on this flight as well?”

Y.N smiled at him, her expression softer than it had been earlier. “Yes. He’s coming,” she said confidently.

Aemond's lips lifted in a relieved smile as he handed over his ticket and passport. The attendant checked his documents and smiled back, nodding as she cleared him to board.

As they walked toward the plane together, the reality of it all sank in. Aemond draped his arm over Y.N’s shoulders and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

For the first time in a long time, Y.N felt something close to peace. Maybe this trip wasn’t about running away or moving on anymore.

Maybe it was about finally finding what was meant to be.

Two years later, Aemond stood tall and proud, his eye never leaving Y.N as she walked down the aisle toward him. She looked radiant, her smile glowing under the warm sun, her white dress flowing like waves with each step.

Aegon walked beside her, grinning as he gave his brother a playful wink when they reached the altar.

The sound of the sea crashing gently against the shore created a perfect backdrop for their beachside wedding. The sky was clear, the soft breeze carried the salty air, and everything about the day felt like a dream.

Aemond held out his hand, his heart swelling with love and disbelief that this moment was finally here.

As Y.N took his hand, their eyes locked. He stared at her, his chest tightening with emotion. She was everything he had ever wanted, and now she was about to become his wife. He mouthed softly, "I love you."

Y.N blushed, her smile growing even brighter as she mouthed back, "I love you too."

Their small, intimate ceremony had only his siblings—Helaena, Aegon and Daeron—his mother Alicent, his grandsire Otto, and a few close friends. It was exactly how Aemond had always imagined it. Simple, quiet, perfect.

The priest began to speak, but Y.N’s mind briefly wandered, filled with gratitude for the strange twist of fate that had led her to this very moment. She thought about Jace jilting her two years ago and how, in hindsight, it had been the best thing that could have happened to her.

If not for that heartbreak, she wouldn’t have Aemond. The man who now held every piece of her heart, who made her feel seen, valued, and loved in ways she never thought possible.

As they exchanged vows, hands tightly clasped, Aemond’s thumb brushed gently over her knuckles, a silent reminder of his unwavering devotion.

Even during the ring exchange, they couldn’t stop smiling at each other, their gazes filled with tenderness and joy.

Everything felt so right. Aemond slipped the ring onto her finger, and she did the same, feeling the warmth of his skin as he squeezed her hand in reassurance.

When the priest finally proclaimed them husband and wife, Aemond wasted no time. He cupped her face in his hands, pulling her in for a deep, passionate kiss as everyone cheered softly around them. His lips moved against hers, full of love, full of promise.

When they finally parted, his voice was filled with pride and happiness as he whispered, "Mrs. Targaryen at last."

Y.N laughed, a sound so joyful it made his heart leap. "At last," she echoed, gazing up at him with all the love in the world.

As they stood there, hand in hand, the sun setting behind them over the ocean, they both knew that this was only the beginning of their forever.

TBC

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

ICYMI: There are so many Japanese qls airing weekly, so I’m going to start posting this little round up at the end of each week. All but one of these are on Gaga and I highly recommend watching! Yes, even the ones I'm not loving! We need to encourage these Japanese studios to keep giving us access to their content. Changing up the order this week so as not to lead on a bum note (we can end on one, instead:)).

Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yara ka

When we left off with Kazuyo’s confession last week, I said this: “Kazuyo is such a sweetheart that I really hope she'll stick around rooting for this pair once she inevitably gets let down gently.” And we got all that and more this week, because this show is my perfect angel that has never done anything wrong in its life. I love that Kazuyo is not only at peace with Sakae’s feelings for Soga, but very enthusiastically supportive of his pursuit. I love this friendship, and I love that we’re spending real time on Kazuyo’s feelings in the aftermath of this rejection. And we continue to see bits of the past relationships that have been weighing on Sakae and Soga. This show really cares about its characters and it shows. Sakae’s confession at the end of this episode was another great moment of grace and kindness and I’m looking forward to Soga’s response once he has a chance to process alongside some healthy jealousy as Sakae’s ex returns.

Perfect Propose

The first two episodes of this new jbl dropped today, and I loved it. Overworked young salaryman, Hiro, is falling apart. His childhood friend, Kai, finds him lying exhausted on the street and invites himself to move in to take care of him. Kai explicitly declared 1) that he is gay and 2) that he considers himself Hiro’s fiancé within the first five minutes, and helped Hiro get off so he could sleep properly in the first episode. This drama really said eat real food, have a nice orgasm, and get a good night’s sleep and you will be happy, and it seems to be building to some themes about the harm caused by the culture of overworking. I support this message!

Ossan's Love Returns

...where to even begin. This "honeymoon" episode was bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S. I went from crying to laughing hysterically to gasping to staring in mute horror at my screen to laughing to crying again. This show is so good at keeping these characters grounded in authentic emotion even as their behavior spins far out of the realm of how real people behave. It's a minor miracle that I can be gaping at Maki in disbelief and then bursting into tears two seconds later because of one perfectly executed line. I don't even want to talk about what specifically happened in this episode, I just want you to go watch it.

Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna 2

WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK, BABY!!! I got my hot little hands on the first four episodes of this excellent second season and let me tell you, the joy I felt to see Yuki and Kasuga again! I love that we came back to find out the gals have been eating like queens and blowing the budget. Plus, there's a new baby lesbian in the building! This season is really delving into Yuki's exploration of her sexuality, and the show is handling it with the expected gentle grace. I am enjoying the journey and putting on my patient pants to settle in for a long wait before these two actually officially get together.

Chaser Game W

This was a rougher week for this show, in that the pacing felt very jerky as the story suddenly executed a rapid turn in the romance that did not really work. The backstory reveal was weak (very poorly motivated noble idiocy), Itsuki's casual decision to start caring for Fuyu's child at the expense of her own life and Fuyu's decision to let her was under-explored, the messages about the importance of these women's work was decidedly mixed, and the sudden love confessions straight to sex didn't get proper build up. Add Fuyu continuing to be a violent drunk who treats Itsuki like shit, and it's hard to root for this pair--I am not really invested in the romance. This show is clearly going somewhere with its commentary on gender roles as it relates to Fuyu's behavior, and I hope wherever it is will feel worth it.

Sahara Sensei to Toki-kun

This show ended this week, and I pretty much hated it, but I will always love Toki despite the mess this show made of his story. We have one more show coming from Drama Shower for the season, and I sincerely hope we can end on a good note with this project.

[mynameismckenziemae]

can you do a bob x reader? anything w protective bob? i’m a sucker for a “who did this to you?” trope🤭 i trust your creativity and writing, take any liberties!!

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! A-hole ex boyfriends, talks of previous domestic abuse, violence, blood, (non consensual) derogatory language, a little smutty-smut at the end.

This is a bonus scene from Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone (first chapter here)

________________________________________

“We’re meeting the caterers at the venue at 5 but otherwise we don’t have anything planned for today,” you tell Bob as you brush mascara on your lashes.

You were back home in Minnesota with Bob for a long weekend to see family and do some wedding planning.

“What would you do on a cold rainy day growing up?” Bob asks, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Roller skating, but the rink closed shortly after I graduated high school, otherwise we’d go to the mall or the movies. That’s actually where I had my first kiss with Andrew Fischer,” you sigh dreamily just to tease him.

He’s on to you though and pinches your butt. “Can I take you to the movies?”

“I’d love that. Maybe you’ll get a kiss too, if you’re lucky.”

________________________________________

“I’ll drop you by the door and meet you inside after I park,” Bob says as he pulls into the lot.

“Thanks, not sure you’d want to be seen with me if my hair were to get wet,” you laugh as you check it in the mirror. Your hair was a curly mess on a good day; the humidity was making it borderline out of control.

He shifts into park and grips your knee before you get out. “I love your hair, and there’s nothing about you that would make me embarrassed to be seen with you, Sun.”

You’d been kidding but the reassurance was always nice.

“Love you,” you smile and press a kiss to his lips. “Meet you in there.”

________________________________________

You wait in the quiet lobby, humming to yourself while you watch for Bob.

“Sunny?”

A cold chill runs down your spine at that voice.

“Hi Di-Derek,” you say, almost calling him dickhead (Bradley’s fitting nickname for your ex-boyfriend).

You haven’t seen him since you caught him in bed with another woman and were happy to see he looks awful

“I thought that was you, I thought I’d say hi since I was walking past. What are you doing here? Last I heard you were still in Cali, fucking some guy in the army,” he says casually, like what he just said isn’t extremely offensive.

“I-I’m not…we’re-,” you stutter but trail off as he keeps talking, stepping closer as your back hits the wall.

“You know, you could lose a few pounds, and fix this god-awful hair,” he says, tugging none too gently on a strand, smiling at your wince. “Otherwise you look good. I’d still fuck you.”

“I suggest you back away from my fiancé,” Bob says lowly from behind you both.

“Fiancé? Why didn’t you say so?” Derek laughs in your face before pushing away from you and turning to Bob. “I’m Derek, Sunny’s-“

“Pathetic ex who cheated on her,” Bob finishes for him.

Derek’s fuming as he laughs cruelly. “Can you blame me? I know she was cheating on me too. Always gone, always begging for other guys' attention like the slut-“

You flinch at the sickening crack of his nose when Bob’s fist meets his nose.

“What the fuck?! You’re gonna regret that. I’m calling the cops,” he sputters as he reaches for his phone, blood pouring from his obvious broken nose.

“I wouldn’t do that, Derek,” you say, finding your voice. “Unless you want to be sitting in jail too.”

“Why?! He hit me?!” He says, shaking with rage as he tries to stem the flow of blood with his coat sleeve.

“Remember that night at the Hard Deck? When you grabbed my arms and slammed my head against the wall? Not only do I have pictures of the bruises you left but Penny has the video of it too,” you say, proud that your voice isn’t trembling.

“I barely touched your arms! And I didn’t slam your head against-whatthefuckever, it doesn’t matter anyway—that was months ago! It wouldn’t hold up in court,” he argues.

“Maybe, maybe not. But Bob here is one of those ‘top 1% naval aviators’ along with Bradley and Jake-who haven’t gone after you only because I said not to. You have no idea what lengths the Navy would go to protect them and how easily things can get swept under the rug,” you saw lowly.

His face pales when he realizes your implication and scrambles to his feet, muttering a half-assed apology before running outside.

Bob checks you over before wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head, “I’m okay. I never cheated on him, you know that, right?” You murmur against his chest.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I know you didn’t. Do you want to get out of here?”

You take a deep breath. “No, I’m not going to let him ruin our day.”

________________________________________

“Is your hand okay?” You ask as you take your assigned seats.

“Yeah it’s fine, I didn’t hit him that hard.”

“Hard enough to break his nose,” you laugh. “It’s gonna hurt like a bitch when they set it.”

“Good,” he says darkly.

“Was that the first time you’ve punched someone?”

“Besides when I was a kid fighting with my brother? Yeah.”

The previews start but you can’t seem to forget how hot it was when Bob didn’t hesitate to defend you. It reminded you of something.

“Do you remember the night we met and you scared of that jackass who called me a whore at the Hard Deck?” You whisper.

“Yeah, I remember everything from that night,” he responds, brushing hair off your forehead.

You smile. “Then you remember what I said after?”

His eyes darken as he recalls. “You said too bad we’d just met because you wanted to get on your knees to show your gratitude.”

You nod as you sink to your knees in front of him.

“Right now? Here?” He whispers as he looks around. But it’s just the two of you in the empty theater.

He’s already hard when pull him out of his gray sweatpants. You waste no time and use your hands with your mouth to work him over.

His head falls back with a low groan as he cums, filling your mouth as the opening credits come across the screen.

Just as you sit back down, an elderly couple enters the theater, sitting just a few seats over.

You can’t help but giggle when Bob shakes his head with a chuckle of his own.

________________________________________

Later you send a message to the group chat as Bob drives to the caterer.

Sunny: Guess who we saw today?

Rowan: Please don’t say Derek.

Sunny: It was Derek.

Bradley: *dickhead.

Sunny: Yeah…I almost called him that 😬

Bradley: Why didn’t you?

Sunny: I was waiting for Bob to park and he kinda had against the wall.

Bob parks and checks his phone.

Bob: He literally had her against the wall when I walked in.

Nat: OMG Sunny! Are you okay? Did he hurt you?

Rowan: Holy shit! Are you alright?!

Jake: What the fuck?! I’m gonna fucking kill him. I should’ve that night.

Bradley: ^Agreed.

Sunny: It’s okay. I was a little shaken up but I’m okay too.

Rowan: Thank God. How’d you get him to leave you alone?

Sunny: Bob rearranged his face with his fist ☺️

Jake: HELL YEAH!

Bradley: That’s my boy!

Nat: Just when I thought I couldn’t love you more Bob. 😍

Jake: Hey!

Nat: 😘

Rowan: Hahaha that’s awesome! Did he call the cops though? I could definitely see him calling the cops

Bob: He was going to until Sunny put him in his place.

Sunny: I brought up the pictures I took of the bruises and the video Penny sent me. I also told him how Jake and Bradley would have no problem going after him. I might’ve also said that the Navy wouldn’t hesitate to cover for them too 🤫

Jake: Fuckin ‘a right!

Bradley: I’d gladly sit in prison for that.

Rowan: ^That’s fine, but only if there are conjugal visits

Bradley: Duh 🙄

Rowan: Watch it Bradley…

Bradley: Yes ma’am 🫡

Jake: Gross…

Jake: Kidding, please go on. I wanna see how this plays out.

Nat: ^Agreed🍿

Sunny: Lolol I love you guys.

You silence your phone with a smile as Bob opens your door and offers his hand.

________________________________________

A/N: I hope I did it justice @lexixstewart

Tagging (please lmk if I’m annoying you by tagging you! I’ll take you off my taglist!):

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

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[leclsrc]

happy 1k! 38 with charles please <3

words unspoken – cl16

genre: fluff :), drabble, 1k celebration

38: whispering “I love you” before a chaste, delicate kiss. title from this

“And it painted a mural all over our kitchen. You know, on the back wall, the green one where you accidentally chipped off a bit of the paint? Yeah. With its hind legs, and a paintbr—just a huge—just, like, angels, and babies. Honest to God, it was better than the Sistine Chapel.”

“So this was a Michelangelo deer?” Your boyfriend asks humorously. “That’s funny. I just had a turtle painting Picasso in my dream the other night. What are the chances?”

“You are such a little shit,” you say, but you’re both laughing. Another day of sharing your dreams to each other—a habit that started out of a way to start morning conversations and continued because of how much you enjoyed listening to each other talk. Your dreams varied, from nightmares, to those of the ordinary type, to the weirdest, most obscure kinds of figments you could possibly conjure.

Like this one. “But that’s not all. So this deer. It’s done painting this magnificent mural, right?” 

Charles nods, genuinely interested, adjusting his glasses as he pulls you onto his lap, wraps his arms around your waist. “So it finishes the painting, and it turns and faces me, and behind it, the painting totally melts off! Like, gone. Just—all of it—poof. The wall’s all green again. And I’m begging the deer to paint it back.”

“Oh, it betrayed you!” Your boyfriend clutches his chest. “How could it possibly?!”

You flick his cheek to shut him up. “And it repaints another painting over it, as per my request, but it’s a totally different painting. It’s not even a painting. It’s just your and my initials, tiny and accompanied by a little heart. No angels. Or babies. Or chapel ceilings.”

“And that’s it.” He fiddles with the sleeve of your knit sweater.

“That’s it.” You turn from the couch and toward the kitchen, where you can spot the wide, forest green wall you’d been talking about. “Just by the fridge. A heart and our letters.”

“Okay. As a professional dream interpreter,” he says, eliciting a scoff out of you, “I would say this means we need to do the same thing.”

“Paint the Sistine Chapel?” You joke, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Or adopt a deer?”

“I’ve got my own animal in the house already, thanks.” You roll your eyes at the offhand joke but allow him to continue. “We still have spare paint in the kitchen cabinet from when you begged me to repaint the bookshelf white.”

“Race you,” you whisper, clambering off his lap and bolting toward the cabinets.

Unfortunately, you’ve hit a caveat. You can’t find the tube or can of white paint for the life of you, so despite your headstart, you find yourself staring at your boyfriend’s proud, paintbrush-and-paint wielding grin. You roll your eyes, gesturing for him to start.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he says. “How’d it look like?”

“Just let me—” you fight briefly over the paintbrush but eventually you’re drawing careful strokes of each initial, housing them inside a tiny heart. You place the brush down and step back, proud of your handiwork. “It’s just like the deer’s.”

He hugs you from behind, and you clutch his arms, both of you just staring at this new, human, lovely as it is imperfect, addition to your home. He leans down, stops right as your lips brush together, then whispers delicately, “I love you.”

You kiss him back, smiling. When he pulls away, you poke his nose. “I love you, too.”

—

“So it’s an extra 40 euros to get the green color matched and have that splotch painted over,” the super says boredly. 

You stare at the white. A “splotch,” he’d called it.

You wonder how many times you’ve called something a splotch, garbage, irrelevant, when in truth it meant so much more to a total stranger. You want to turn to the super, say, coolly, casually, “Oh, my ex-fiancé and I drew that a couple years ago, so it’s not a splotch, you son of a bitch.” But you’ve no time for deep thinking or mapping out possibilities. You need to empty the place by today.

“Yeah, just go ahead and add it to the charge,” you say politely. “I forgot what that splotch was all about, actually.”

[tightjeansjavi]

The Hills Have Eyes

A Dieter Bravo Story

Dieter Bravo x f!bestfriend reader x oc wife

A/N: so idk why Dieter decided to infiltrate my dreams last night but am I complaining? NAH cause here comes yet another idea that is going to rot my brain away! Y’all are gonna have to be patient because I don’t intend on having the first chapter out until July (the latest) also, face claim for Dieter’s wife is Aubrey Plaza. They give me bi panic, okay? 😰 The plot is plotting for this one and honestly? I’m so fricken excited (my other WIPS are not excited however)

Summary: Dieter Bravo has been your best friend since you were kids. He was your first kiss, first everything. He was your prom date and most definitely your first love. Dieter never grew the balls to officially ask you out. After graduating senior year of high-school together, Dieter dives head first into Hollywood. He lands a breakout role and he’s all that the tabloids can talk about. Years later you’re soon to be married to your long term boyfriend, until you catch him in bed with one of your own friends. Heartbroken and seeking comfort, you reach out to Dieter, who graciously invites you to his home tucked away in the Hollywood Hills. The second you see a ring on his finger, your heart sinks. Is everything all that it truly seems?

Warnings: angst, pining, heartbreak, typical Hollywood scandals, Dieter is in an open relationship with his wife, things get messy and complicated, drinking, drug use, paparazzi invading privacy, FWB, excessive partying, eventual smut, toxic relationship sprinkled in here and there, Dieter isn’t unhappy in his marriage, he just feels like there’s something missing, reader has never been exposed to the Hollywood lifestyle before, (+18) minors dni! I will add more warnings if necessary! My brain is blanking so I’m sorry if I missed some!

Sneak Peek below the cut

“You’re married?” Your heart sinks deep in the pit of your stomach when you see the shiny gold ring on Dieter’s ring finger. It shimmers in the light and he looks down at it like he’s never seen it before.

“Oh, this? Uh, yeah. I am married.” He shrugs like it’s the most casual thing that he could possibly say. “Does that surprise you, sweet cheeks? Don’t fret. My wife and I are in an open relationship. You wouldn’t believe the amount of Hollywood couples that are totally banging friends and strangers left and right. It happens way more often than you think.” He winked.

“Where is your wife now?”

“Morocco? Spain? Dunno actually. Last I heard she was in Greece. We really only see each other for big events and shit like that.”

“It doesn’t bother you..or anything?”

“Bother me? No, not at all my sweets. She does whatever she wants, with who she wants, when she wants. As long as it stays private. I do the same. It’s a win win situation babe.”He gingerly brought his arm around your shoulders, giving you a warm side hug as he gestured for you to follow him into his extravagant home. “Enough about me, my dear. I’ll make us some drinks, and you can tell me all about that no good rotten son of a bitch ex fiancée, and that backstabbing cunt of a friend. Extra dirty martinis makes everything better, baby. Trust me.”

This summer with your best friend, was about to get extra interesting.

[ringthebethal]

I believe in....? Joe Hendry/OC/Alex Shelley Chap 1

New Fic

Please Like If you want more

Bound For Glory 2022

Beth is backstage, lacing up her boots and mentally preparing for her upcoming match with her fiancé Alex and his tag team partner Chris. She adjusts her knee pads, focusing on the routine that keeps her grounded. The buzz of excitement in the locker room catches her attention.

Beth mumbled to herself ‘What's going on out there?’

Say his name and he appears….

Taya ran up to her out of breath followed by your best friend Jess. ‘Beth, you won't believe it! Joe Hendry is back!’

‘Joe? Joe Hendry?’ She eyes went wide as Jess grabbed her hand.

The girls moves closer to get a better view. Joe Hendry stands in the ring, soaking in the crowd's reaction, his presence commanding attention. Beth's heart skips a beat as memories flood back.

‘Holy fuck Joe...’ Beth felt a lump in her throat. She steps back from the curtain, her mind racing. She tries to shake off the emotions welling up inside her, but it's difficult.

Jess notices her reaction ‘Are you okay?’

Beth forced a smile ‘Yeah, I'm fine. Just... surprised, that's all.’

‘You two were pretty close, weren't you?’ She frowned when she turned to me ‘shouldn’t you be happy he is back.’

Jess glared at Taya ‘Joe is her ex boyfriend. He up and left TNA 2 years ago, just leaving her here’

Beth ran a hand in her hair ‘It just feels like a lifetime ago.’

Beth takes a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. She knows she has a match to focus on, but the sight of Joe has thrown her off balance.

Taya smiled ‘Maybe it's a good thing he's back. A chance to reconnect?’

Beth groaned at her excitement ‘Maybe... We'll see. I should gol finishing getting ready I got to manage the boys after this’

Jess gave you a side hug ’Good luck out there, Beth. And with Joe.’

Beth smiling faintly. Trying to hide her emotions ‘Thanks. I think I'll need it.’

Beth walks back to her gear, her mind still replaying the moment she saw Joe. She knows this is just the beginning of a complicated journey, one that might change everything.

———————————————————

After Beth's intense match, she walks backstage, still catching her breath from the adrenaline rush. She spots Joe standing by the locker room area, waiting for her. There's a mix of surprise and hesitation in her eyes as she approaches him.

Beth softly spoke ‘Joe... I didn't expect to see you here.’

Joe turns around, his expression a blend of nostalgia and regret. ‘Beth... Can we talk?’ he said grabbing her hand.

Beth looked hesitant ‘Sure. What's on your mind?’

They move to a quieter corner of the backstage area, away from the hustle and bustle of the post-match action.

Joe starched the back his head nervously ‘I... I need to tell you something, Beth. I've been thinking a lot about us, about what we had.’

Beth started to rant off ‘Joe, we've been through this before. You left, and...’

Joe stopped her ‘I know, Beth. I made a mistake, a big one. But I never stopped loving you. I still do.m

Beth looks at Joe, her heart conflicted. She knows she still has feelings for him, but the pain of his departure lingers. She starts to feel emotional ‘You hurt me, Joe. You left without a word, and I... I had to pick up the pieces. We were best friends and you did the one thing you promised me you wouldn't.’

Joe sighed running a hand through his blonde locks ‘I know, and I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. But seeing you again, Beth, it's like... nothing has changed for me. I still want us to be together.’

Before Beth can respond, Alex appears behind her, his presence casting a shadow over the tender moment between Beth and Joe. He strides up confidently, his demeanor a mix of possessiveness and charm.

Alex smiled casually ‘Hey, babe. There you are. Joe, right?’ Alex stuck his hand out.

Joe nods tersely, his jaw clenched as he meets Alex's gaze. He shook Alex hand firmly ‘Yeah, Joe Hendry. Nice to meet you.’

Alex steps closer to Beth, wrapping an arm around her waist possessively. ‘You were incredible out there. I'm proud of you.’ he placed a kiss on her lips softly a gesture that feels more like a statement of possession than affection. Joe watches, his expression unreadable.

Beth forcing a smile ‘Thanks, babe.’

Alex turned to Joe ‘Well, we should let Beth get ready. We got Dinner plans, babe right?’ He playful smacked her ass

Beth squealed ‘Yeah, I'll see you around, Joe’ Alex gives Joe a dismissive nod before leading Beth away.

Alex grabbed her hand ‘You seem pretty shaken up. What did Joe say to you?’

Beth tried to sound unbothered ‘Nothing much. We just... talked. It's been a long time since we last saw each other.’

Alex looked suspiciously at her ‘Just talked, huh? You sure he wasn't trying to stir up old feelings?’

Beth suddenly got defensive ‘Alex, it's not like that. We're just friends now. It's been years.’

Alex narrowed his eyes ‘Friends? Beth, I saw the way you looked at him. There's more to it than that, isn't there?’

Beth turned to face Alex and sighed ‘Look, seeing him again was a surprise. That's all. You're the one I'm with, Alex. I'm committed to you.’

‘You better be.’ Alex smiled his charming smile. ‘Just remember, you're going to be my wife soon.’

Alex pulls Beth into a possessive embrace, his hands firm on her waist. He leans down and kisses her deeply, almost as if marking his territory.

Beth pulled back breathless ‘Alex I swear you will be the death of me’ she smiled running her hand down his chest.

Alex smirked ‘Just making sure everyone knows you're mine.’ he pulled her into another kiss.

From a distance, Joe watches the scene unfold, his heart heavy. He clenches his fists, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and determination.

[fearfulachilles]

4. first day.

chapter four to buop (nanami kento x reader jjk medical au.) .

full contents here.

summary: it’s your first day at jujutsu metropolitan hospital’s free clinic. what are the chances you bump into that handsome stranger from the bar?

It had been like this for a month now. Satoru would coax Kento to come out to the bar with him and Suguru after work, despite Satoru not being one to drink alcohol in the first place. It was undoubtedly a pity invite.

Kento had been a shell for some time now. Food had no flavor, coffee lost its richness, the sounds around him became static, and colors were neutral. The people around him at work noticed how empty Kento had become after the wedding incident, but Satoru noticed it long before Kento was left at the alter.

Yu Haibara’s younger sister, Asami Haibara, was introduced to Kento about five years ago. He hadn’t any interest her, but they were both new to Jujutsu Metropotlian. Asami as a pharmaceutical rep, Kento as a doctor who had just transferred to the hospital, thanks to Yu’s recommendation.

They got to know each other slowly and began casually seeing each other after a year. The next, they moved in together. Things died down then, became boring and routine, and because of routine, they were engaged.

Somewhere in the midst of it, Kento had begun losing pieces of himself.

He stopped cooking, stopping trying new recipes, which was something he loved to do after work as a way to unwind. He stopped buying his favorite coffee beans, since it no longer tasted bold. He just bought the instant coffee closest to the cash registers in stores. He stopped listening and talking to others, no one realized how much quieter Kento could get than he already was.

The trips out to the bars were Satoru’s way of trying to bring back some joy into his friend’s life. Women would flirt with the trio, being handsome doctors will bring that sort of attention to you. Kento was never interested, though Suguru and Satoru would always find new partners to entertain.

Until yesterday.

What he thought was going to be another repeat of the numerous last weeks turned into something he didn’t think he’d experience.

You had caught his attention. You were captivating, beautiful, funny. He admired your boldness when you asked for a drink. He would’ve bought you every single drink the bar could make if you asked. He had noticed the vibrant shade of your hair, the sound of your laughter, and he loved the taste of your mouth on his.

It had been like the sun finally crept up from behind the mountains on an early winter morning, stepping out of the shade into the sunlight to have the coldness on his fingertips melt away.

He felt his skin heating up every time you leaned into his touch, the palms of his hands dampening with nervous sweat. He didn’t know what to say, but he knew he wanted to keep hearing your voice. Then, he asked you to leave with him, and you said yes.

Then, he cuts his time with you short. He didn’t mean to, but the sensation of you was so overwhelming and he hadn’t felt overwhelmed in years. You tried to be nice about it, but he knows about the stigma of cumming too early with a woman.

He never had to worry much about the stigma affecting his life. Kento has only had a couple partners, one in high school, a fling in college, and his ex fiancée. All three remember Kento’s cock more than they remember him. His stamina nearly knew no end with them, and though it sounded pleasurable, it wasn’t so much for Kento. All he did was chase the high only for it to get farther and farther away with all of the three women he’d slept with.

But with you, he had been bursting at the seams.

Yes, he was disappointed in himself at first. He wanted to feel your warmness around his dick and hear you when he made you cum around him.

He left the bar in his car soon after you exited. He messaged Satoru he had gone home, which Satoru responded with three thumbs down emojis, followed by a text of a winking face.

Kento thinks of you on his way to his front door. His cum is now hard and uncomfortable in his pants, and even though he wants to do nothing but shower, he can’t help but smile thinking of you. Perhaps, he liked that you made him feel so good so quick.

_________

You and your roommates stand in front of Jujutsu Metropolitan Hospital for a minute before making your way to the clinic portion to the side of the building. You were a bundle of nerves in the morning. If Nobara, Megumi, and Yuji felt the same, then they had a better way of hiding it than you.

Dr. Gojo greets you four in the clinic. You wonder why a doctor like him is doing the tedious task of hiring scribes and showing them around.

He splits you four into two groups, Yuji and Nobara in one, Megumi and you in another. The other pair are introduced to Dr. Ieiri, who they will be working with today. You and Megumi stay with Dr. Gojo for the day.

You learn the basics of Dr. Gojo preferences for his chart notes. Minimal, only medical information, he says he'll remember everything else on his own. You and Megumi both grab a hospital laptop to carry with you and you take turns writing the chart notes as you follow Dr. Gojo around to each exam room and patient.

Dr. Gojo is actually a neurosurgeon but he hasn't done surgery in nearly one year. You're not sure why and you don't want to ask. He sees Dr. Geto's post-op patients, who is also a neurosurgeon, and has taken over all of Satoru's surgical cases.

Satoru has a unique way of treating patients. Old ladies adore him, kids love him, young people prefer him. It's mostly because he spends the entire visit charming his patients with medical stories and facts of his personal life, which they all loved to hear. Then, after spending 25 minutes blabbing about everything other than medicine, he performs a couple of neurological exams and sends them on their way.

“Alright, my dear.” Dr. Gojo says, wrapping up with his last patient before lunch. It was a sweet elder lady who wore two wedding rings on her left hand, one clearly hers and the other not. Satoru offers his arm for her to hold on to and leads the elderly patient out of the exam room. “Call us if you start getting headaches often. Dr. Geto may have to crack you open again.”

The elderly patient giggles at Dr. Gojo's savage description of surgery. She so used to others walking on eggshells because of her age, so Dr. Gojo makes her feel young again with how real he is with her.

You and Megumi go on your lunch break, getting lost for ten minutes before finally finding the cafeteria in the hospital. You join up with Yuji and Nobara, who look depressed and pale. Turns out, Dr. Ieiri is a surgical oncologist and regularly deals with terminal patients. This fact had really darkened their day.

You and Megumi try to cheer them up, but nothing seems to work. Until you spot a very familiar older man with blonde hair sitting in the cafeteria a few tables away from you. You nearly choke on your salad, Megumi having to pat your back to help you out.

“I know something that's gonna cheer you up, Nobara.”

“Doubt it.”

“I see the guy from the bar. Like, the guy. Don't turn around—I said don't!”

Yuji had whipped his head over his shoulder, looking back at the tables and staff members behind you guys. He can't seem to find him and his eyes scan the room again and again. “I don't see him. Actually, what does he look like?”

You duck your head low, slapping Yuji's forearms repeatedly to get him to turn back around. You whisper-scream for him to stop and he does.

“Don't tell me he works here.” You whine, resting your forehead on the cool plastic lunch table. Nobara can't help but laugh, she's considerate enough to laugh quietly, but nonetheless she's laughing.

Megumi is seated next to you, facing the direction of where Kento sits at. “He's looking over here.”

You have to quit, right? This was a great opportunity, you met new people, saw your old friend, but now you have to move back home.

You pick your head up from the table and slowly look over to where you saw Kento. He sat at a table with a dark haired man wearing a white coat, and Kento was looking right at you.

You’re getting yourself a drink from a vending machine inside the cafeteria, they’re free for employees and you know you’ll need a pick me up after lunch. You suddenly feel a presence near you. You turn and look and see Kento standing near you.

You give Kento a sheepish smile. “Hi…”

“Hello.” He greets. His shoulders don’t seem tense or rigid like they did when you first bumped into him. “You work here?”

“First day. I’m a new medical scribe for the free clinic.”

Kento nods, thinking to himself. He opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.

“We don’t have to talk about it, we can forget about… us in your car.” You offer him an out.

“I don’t want to.” He replied confused.

“You don’t want to talk about it. Good, I—“

“I don’t want to forget about it.” Kento clarifies. His voice doesn’t waver, it sounds so certain and so sure of himself.

Maybe the out you offered was more for you than for him. You suck in a quick breath, feeling awkward. “I do. I was just looking for a one-time thing, and now we’re working at the same place, we’re bound to see each other here at some point. It’s just not a good idea.”

A little harsh, Kento didn’t expect that. He was going to offer to take you out to dinner, get to know you more, then fuck you right this time. He hadn't stopped thinking of the feeling of your skin. He missed feeling.

He doesn’t say anything back, and you can see the hurt on his stoic face. You say your goodbye to him as he stays silent and go back to your roommates to return back to work.

The second half of the day was a lot slower. You, Megumi, and Dr. Gojo had time to go through patient charts and Dr. Gojo was nice enough to teach you both about a few things. He’d bring up CT scans and MRIs of patient brains, explain each quadrant, explain what he sees, then quiz you both on the next one. You can tell you’ll learn a lot by working here.

“What specialties are you guys interested in?” Satoru asks. It’s an hour before the clinic closes and it’s slow. He twirls back and forth on the chair at the nurse station.

Megumi clears his throat and mumbles something. You and Satoru both furrow your brows and ask him to repeat himself. He does, louder. “Pediatrics.”

You can’t help but have a big smile on your lips. It’s so cute, thinking of grumpy Megumi working with babies and kids in the future. You and Satoru giggle to each other until it’s your turn to answer.

“I�� don’t know yet.” You admit, guiltily.

Satoru stands up from his chair, and you notice for the first time that day, how captivating he is. His hair is so bright, it looks like freshly fallen snow. His eyes are so crystal blue clear you can nearly see yourself in them. His voice and smile are so alluring, it’s no wonder why all the patients fond over him and all the nurses do anything he asks. He stands tall with broad shoulders, his white doctor coat doesn’t make him look any smaller than he is, it frames him nicely.

“Maybe you’ll join neuro and be with me.” He suggests, his voice honey smooth. You find yourself nodding, agreeing to whatever he just suggested.

You’re snapped out of your gaze when you hear a familiar voice call out for Dr. Gojo creeping up from behind you. It’s your stranger from the bar, he’s walking towards you (Dr. Gojo) to hand him some papers. He wore a scrub cap, clearly coming out of some kind of surgery.

“Kento!” Satoru smiles brightly, like he hadn’t seen him in a while. “I want you to meet our new scribes, they’ll be working with you tomorrow in clinic.”

Your eyes widen just for a second, no one but Kento really notices it. He offers a really small but polite smile, and he’s meant to be looking at the both of you, but his eyes lock onto yours only. “I look forward to working with you.”

[guess-my-next-obsession]

‘Tis The Damn Season: Chapter Three

pairing: marcus pike x f!ofc (nathalie moss)

chapter rating: E (18+ Only, no explicit smut but lots of steamy makeouts and wandering hands so putting an explicit warning just to be safe, talks of anxiety, talks of breakups/cheating, smooch city basically)

word count: 4k

series masterlist | series playlist

Nathalie hadn’t been on a first date in seven years.

The last time she’d done this—getting pampered and getting ready, squeezing on her best dress and making sure her red lipstick wasn’t bleeding onto her pearly whites—she’d was only twenty-one years old. She knew so little about herself, about what she wanted and didn’t want in a parter and in life. She used to be content with simply being desired, but now, after years and years of hard lessons and harsh truths, she craved so much more from this silly little thing called love.

As she stood in front of her full-length mirror examining herself, her hands smoothing over the fabric of the little black dress she’d worn for Valentine’s Day—back when she was still a bride-to-be, she couldn’t help but wonder how many of these newfound cravings were sated by Marcus’s presence in her life.

Most, her brain was quick to answer.

Marcus was kind, intelligent, funny, gentle, romantic, handsome, but above all that, he seemed to know her in a way her ex never did, even after years of living with her.

Marcus made her feel faint with his sort of natural ease in understanding her. She always had to fight so hard to be understood by her friends, partners, and even her own family at times. She was so used to feeling like she had to convince people to like her—to get her—and here comes Marcus, doing it as though it was as easy as breathing, flipping her world upside down.

“Who are you and what did you do with my gremlin daughter?” Mr. Moss leaned against the opened door of her bedroom as she fussed over her hair, combing through the curls so that they fell more like waves. Nathalie turned around with an eye roll and a chuckle, shaking her head at him as he grinned proudly at his teasing, a half-melted bowl of ice cream in his hands as it was “Sundae Night” at the Moss house. “You look nice, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, dad.” Nathalie walked over to her bed and grabbed her purse, making sure she had everything she might need in it.

“Oh, would you look at that!” Mrs. Moss gushed at her daughter’s done up appearance as she joined her husband in the doorway. “I hardly recognize you.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment, mom?” She asked with a nervous chuckle, their reactions to her appearance making her question whether or not she’d gone a bit over the top.

“Well…we’re just used to seeing you a bit more casual is all,” Mrs. Moss assured, though it did little to quell her daughters building anxiety. “Not that you don’t look stunning in your pajamas and sweats and pimple patches—“

“Thanks, mom.” Nathalie felt her stomach start to flip with anxiety, but thankfully, Marcus didn’t give her any time to simmer with it, his knocks on the front door making all three pairs of eyes widen with differing emotions—elation, amusement, and puke-your-brains-out panic.

“Let me go grab my shotgun,” Mr. Moss joked, earning a swat on his stomach from his wife.

“Hush,” she scolded before turning back to Nathalie. “You don’t even own a water-gun, you big idiot.” Mrs. Moss quickly turned her attention back to Nathalie, flashing her a bright, hopeful smile. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she spoke through an exhale as she grabbed her clutch and followed her nosy parents down to the front door, quickly throwing her coat and scarf on. Taking one last breath of confidence, she opened the door and instead of beaming at Marcus, she was greeted by someone she never expected to see again. “James?”

“Nat,” her ex-fiancé breathed out in relief upon seeing her, until his blue eyes focused and he took in her outfit, clearly not remembering he’d already seen her in that dress earlier that year. “Holy…you look incredible.”

“James, what are you doing here?” She asked in a sharp tone, her parents eavesdropping and hiding behind the open door.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed, boldly taking a step forward while Nathalie took two steps back. Sensing her hesitation, James froze and held his hands up apologetically. “Listen, I know we left things sort of…messily—“

“Messily? ” She asked in disbelief, turning to look at her parents for help. Her father was quick to make his presence known, staring down the man he used to view as his son. Nathalie begged him again, disgusted by his presence, “James, I don’t want to see you. I want you to leave.”

“Nat,” he pleaded softly, as if a little pout could remedy all the hurt he bestowed upon her over the years.

“James,” Marcus’ voice was both soothing and worrying as he approached her ex, taking slow strides up the porch steps until he was standing beside him, his eyes taking over Nathalie’s state for only a moment before turning back to her ex. Nathalie cringed. She didn’t want this to be the way their first date began, and she especially didn’t want Marcus to get the wrong idea about her and James—she’d much rather die than to be with him again. “What an unpleasant surprise.”

“Marcus,” James nodded at him, his tone full of irritation at the lack of privacy he was likely hoping for. The privacy that would increase his odds at appealing to her desperation and stupidity. “Nat, is there anywhere we can go to talk? Just the two of us?”

“No,” she chuckled, appalled by his casual persistence. “I told you. I don’t want to talk to you.”

He stared at her with pure shock. This wasn’t the woman he remembered—the living, breathing doormat he loved to walk all over was long gone.

“Besides,” she stepped passed him to where Marcus patiently waited on the porch, her arm looping with his. “I’m busy tonight.”

“With him?” James chuckled, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” Marcus nodded, suddenly looking so much different than the man she knew. He looked more masculine, more threatening, the change in posture even making him appear bigger. “With me.”

“Don’t worry, Nattie,” Mr. Moss assured. “If this asshead is still around by the time you get home, I’ll be sure to handle it.”

Nathalie couldn’t help but smile at her father’s protectiveness, the man usually so gentle he refused to hurt even a fly, but when it came to his baby girl he would stop at nothing to make sure she was not only safe, but happy.

“Nat!” James called out from the porch as Marcus walked her down her porch and freshly shoveled walkway to his car waiting by the curb. “C’mon!”

“Well…he’s persistent, I’ll give him that,” she chided as Marcus reached to open her door.

“He’s an asshole.” Marcus looked tense, his eyes hardly meeting hers as he held her door open, Nathalie carefully seating herself without flashing him.

As she waited in the car for him to walk around and climb in beside her, she felt panic start to bubble up in her again. Was he angry with her? Did he no longer want to go out? Was her drama too much drama for him to handle?

“Marcus, I’m sorr—“

“You look so fucking good,” he confessed as he sat down and shut his door, shooing all worry out of her mind yet again. His eyes turned to meet hers, a longing in them that made her thighs squeeze together out of instinct. Marcus tried not to notice, but the knowing smile that grew on his face told her he was far too vigilant to miss it. “I had a whole thing rehearsed in my head for when I first saw you. But that was before your idiot of an ex showed up to try and win you back.”

“Emphasis on try.” She reached over the center console and placed her hand on his knee, one of Marcus’ hands quickly dropping from the steering wheel to intertwine with hers. “I was worried I went a little overboard with the makeup, and the heels, and the hair, and the dress—“

“No, I love the dress.” He glanced over at her with a smirk, his eyes flickering down to her cleavage before lifting back to her own. “You look beautiful.”

“All this sweetness is gonna take some getting used to,” she confessed softly, unable to believe his compliments after years of being picked apart by James. Marcus lifted the hand holding hers up to her chin, lovingly pinching it.

“I’m a patient man,” he assured with a knee-weakening smile.

“You’re…a saint, apparently,” she chuckled, turning to look out of the window at their snow-covered town.

“Trust me, I’m not a saint.” Her eyes wandered back to his profile, studying him to try and find any sort of flaw or sin lying beneath the surface but she couldn’t see any from where she sat—just a handsome man that made her feel at home whenever she looked into his eyes.

“I’m struggling to see where your faults are,” she challenged, earning a bashful chuckle. “I’ve always thought you were so much better than everyone. Not even just your looks—“

“Tell me more about my good looks.” He glanced at her with a smirk.

“I think I’ll save that ego-boost for another time,” she winked, forcing a blush to his cheeks. “But no, beyond all that physical stuff, you’ve always just been such a good guy. You sorta set a standard, intentionally or not.”

“Well,” he laughed. “I’m good at seeming a lot better than I am, I guess.”

“Well, go on, then. What’s going on beneath the surface that I haven’t seen yet?” She challenged with an eyebrow raise and a smirk, Marcus shrugging through his shyness.

“I don’t know,” he spoke with a boyish bashfulness and a smile. When he turned to look at her, his train of thought was interrupted by the passing yellow light of the street lamps illuminating her face. Suddenly every word he knew seemed more meaningless than they did a few seconds prior, none of them quite able to describe her beauty well enough to earn being voiced to her listening ears. So, he settled on saying nothing at all, his eyes choosing to keep this moment of admiration a private one for now. “There’s lots of things.”

“Just give me one thing that makes you anything less than perfect,” she asked sweetly, oblivious to the fact that Marcus would already do whatever for her, including laying his heart out for her to judge and pick apart at her will.

“Okay, I rush into things a lot. That’s a big one,” he finally managed a response as they pulled into the parking lot of an upscale Italian restaurant. “Yeah, I just…in the past, I’ve gotten swept up in the romance of it all and I suppose I had a tendency to move a little quick.”

“I don’t mind moving a little quick every now and then,” she replied, tone thick with suggestion. Marcus chuckled and let out a sigh, struggling to find the willpower to do as his mother told and take things slow with Nathalie.

“You’re…” he chuckled as he struggled to find an adequate adjective to describe her. “I’d say perfect but that makes it sound like having flaws is a bad thing.“

“They’re not?” She questioned, shifting in her seat to better face him, content to spend the entire night right there in this parking lot listening to him speak.

“I don’t think so,” he shrugged, turning a bit in his own seat. Nathalie quirked an eyebrow at him in a silent demand for him to elaborate and he chuckled. “They go into making you, you just as much as the good stuff does.”

Nathalie smiled and nodded, her eyes locked on his. With her smile growing wider and more playful, she looked down at her lap and spoke, “So…if you don’t want to call me perfect, what am I then?”

“Thought-consuming, how about that?” He sounded bashful, his voice quieted to a rasp just above a whisper.

Nathalie didn’t care that they were in a parking lot, she didn’t care that anyone could walk past and judge them, she only cared about feeling his lips on hers again, his taste and feel intoxicating and soothing at the same time.

“Think that’s two words,” she breathed out as she leaned over the console between them, Marcus grinning as he met her halfway into a nearly painful kiss. Her hands held the curve of where his jaw met his neck while his rested on her face, keeping her close. When Nathalie tested out something needier, a swipe of her tongue over his lips, Marcus let out a groan that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her core.

“Mm,” he hummed as he found the strength to pull away, chuckling against her lips. “Taking it slow, remember.”

“That’s gonna be…”

“Impossible, yeah.” He laughed through a sigh and ran his hands over his face as he sat back in his seat.

“You okay?” She asked with genuine concern. Marcus was quick to nod and give her a soft smile to reassure her.

“Yeah, I’m just trying to…calm down,” he chuckled in embarrassment as Nathalie’s eyes lowered to his pants, his unexpected (and impressive) bulge causing her eyes to widen.

“Yeah, this is…gonna be difficult,” she laughed and lifted her eyes back to his, reaching over to pinch his bearded chin. “And really fun.”

“Yeah,” he beamed. “I think so too.”

“Do you still wanna go in?” She asked after a beat, earning a curious look from Marcus. “Honestly, we could just grab McDonald’s and sit in the car all night talking and I’d be happy.”

“Yeah?” He asked with a curl of his lips. “We can do whatever you want. I’m just glad to be here.”

“Me too.” She reached over and tugged him in for one more kiss, this time something soft and sweet rather than needy and heated. She wanted him to feel how happy he was already making her, how downright into him she was. His soft hum buzzing against her lips told her that he was hoping to do the same. “Okay, McDonald’s now.”

“Yes, Miss Moss.”

“So…” Marcus started with a smirk, pausing to chew on the fries he’d just lifted to his lips. The couple was sat in the McDonald’s parking lot, the bright yellow and red light of the Golden Arch glowing into the car as they ate.

“So?” Nathalie asked with a look of amused interest, taking a sip of her Coke.

“What, uh, what actually went down with you and James?” He asked, turning his head to meet hers. Nathalie kept her slight smile on, though a sigh left her lips. “You don’t have to tell me—“

“No, no. It’s not…I just…the thought of him always puts me in a bad mood, and I don’t want you to have to be around me like that,” she clarified, but Marcus only creased his brows in response.

“Nat,” he spoke her name sternly, bringing her eyes back to his. “You don’t have to hide yourself away from me. I work for the government, I’m good at handling a bad mood.”

She chuckled and nodded before reaching over and stealing one of his fries. “Well, I thought everything was perfect between him and I. That entire seven years, I was delusional and happy and peacefully ignorant to how just plain fucking awful he was to me.”

Marcus didn’t say anything, simply shifting in his seat to better face her, his fingers quietly lifting his fries to his mouth as she continued.

“Anyways, one night I’d been working pretty late at the museum, and so I’d texted him and let him know that I probably wouldn’t be home until around midnight.” Nathalie paused to take a bite out of her burger, missing the way Marcus watched her in endearment as she tried to hurry her chews, her hand waving as though it would help. “Sorry, this burger is so good.”

“I know, I finished mine in three bites.” Nathalie chuckled as she looked over at Marcus’ empty burger box. “Alright, so you’re at the museum—“

“Right,” she nodded, regaining her focus. “I texted him that I’d be home late or whatever, but then I managed to finish early, so instead of showing up at midnight like he thought, I ended up showing up around ten—and the first thing I see when I unlock my door? My fiancé and my fucking boss fully going at it on the couch I bought. Straight up naked, spread eagle.”

“Oh, god,” Marcus sympathized, shaking his head at her as she nodded.

“Yeah. So, I left immediately and spent the night at a friend’s place. I just remember feeling like I’d finally turned the fucking light on and could see that this past seven years of my life, I’d been so unhappy. Sleeping on my friends couch I finally realized that I actually hated James. I was only still with him because I was comfortable. Because he was gonna give me the life I dreamed of or whatever. But after seeing him with someone else, there was no way I could go back. So I packed all my shit up and left town, left my job, left everything. Now I’m just here…recovering.”

“Jesus,” Marcus sighed, his eyes full of sincere sympathy. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“It’s alright,” Nathalie chuckled bashfully, shrugging her shoulders. “After all, it brought me here.”

Marcus smiled as he leaned over, his hand cradling her jaw as he gave her enough space to reject him but there was no need. Nathalie quickly leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

What started out as a tender kiss soon became ravenous, Marcus’ strength seemingly to dwindle with each little burst of a makeout. His hand slid up her sheer stockings, warming the outside of her thigh as his fingertips reached the hem of her dress. Nathalie let out a soft, hardly audible moan as he allowed his fingers to continue traveling up underneath her skirt until he was gripping her hip.

“Marcus,” she breathed against his lips, suddenly aware of the public nature of their makeout.

“Sorry,” he panted as he pulled back, readjusting her skirt as he slid his hand back down to her knee.

“Don’t be too sorry,” she reached over for his chin, her fingertips smoothing along his bearded jaw. “Just maybe not in a McDonald’s parking lot.”

“Or your parent’s house…or my parent’s house,” he added, a frown forming on both their faces until Marcus seemingly got an idea. “Hey, I have to go into the city to finish up my shopping this weekend. Do you maybe wanna come with me?”

Nathalie looked stunned, but in a good way. The prospect of spending a weekend away in New York City with Marcus fucking Pike during Christmastime was the stuff of her teenage dreams.

“Oh no, is that too much, too fast?” He asked with panic all over his face, the first sign of that emotion that she knew intimately coming from him.

“No,” she reached her hand back to rest on his neck, scratching at the hairs on the base of his skull. “It sounds like a fucking dream.”

Marcus brightened again, leaning in to place a singular peck onto her lips.

“I can’t wait,” he smiled as he pulled away and packed his trash into the brown bag while Nathalie ate her last bite of burger before doing the same. “I, uh, think my parents are still out at church…if you wanted to watch a movie at my place or something? I’ve got…puzzles?”

Nathalie couldn’t help but chuckle at the boyish nature of his smile, his eyes clearly filled with hope for more time in her company. How could she ever say no when he was looking at her with his big brown eyes?

“I’m pretty good at puzzles.”

Marcus’s parents had indeed still been out of the house when they pulled into his driveway, but that was just about all that went according to plan.

As soon as the couple crossed the threshold of his front door, they couldn’t keep their hands off one another. Marcus walked her back against the wall of the entryway, making a family portrait rattle against the wall as she hit it with a soft thud. Nathalie giggled as his lips trailed down to her neck, the scruff of his beard tickling her the entire time.

“You smell so good,” he praised, too swept up in her to join her in her giggles. His voice sent a chill down her spine and she tightened her grip on his coat, tugging him closer until he was pressing his hips into hers. She gasped as she felt his bulge against her hip, quickly stiffening with each passing second. It wasn’t long before Marcus was breathing out against her neck, “fuck, I want you”.

“Take me upstairs,” she panted, her hand lowering from the lapel of his coat down to his cock, rubbing it through the fabric of his pants.

“Can’t,” he sucked a mark on her collarbone, a considerate one that could easily be hidden under a sweater. “My parents are gonna be home soon.”

“We can be quick,” she persisted, pulling his face from her neck and holding it as she looked into his eyes with a mischievous pout. Marcus beamed at her full of affection, his thumb lifting to stroke over her bottom lip.

“I don’t want our first time to be quick, baby.”

Nathalie felt like she was floating and melting and burning all at the same time as she listened to him call her ‘baby’, the look in his eyes just the cherry on top of an already dream-worthy moment that she never in her wildest dreams would’ve imagined happening.

“If you call me baby again, I’m gonna pass out, I think,” she whispered through her grin, her eyes falling to his lips as she pulled him closer for a kiss, Marcus chuckling into it when their lips met.

“Well, I’ll be here to catch you…baby,” he felt her smile grow against his lips, her giggle being kissed away.

As Marcus moved to deepen the kiss again, the couple was surprised by the front door opening abruptly, not giving them enough time to sort themselves out before his parents were taking in their flushed states.

“Marcus…Nathalie,” Mr. Pike greeted awkwardly as Mrs. Pike gave the couple a beaming smile, clearly approving of their romance. She tugged her husband out of the entryway to give the pair some privacy again, noticing the blushes on Marcus and Nathalie’s faces.

“Walk me home?” Nathalie asked once they were alone again. Marcus nodded, slipping his hand into hers and opening the front door.

Once they were out in the cold, Marcus wrapped his arm around Nathalie’s waist, holding her close to his side.

“So you got to ask me about my ex,” she started with a smirk, her eyes facing forward. “What happened with yours?”

“I don’t know if we have the time,” he chuckled.

“You can come in for some tea,” she offered, turning her head to look at him with round, hopeful eyes.

“Okay,” he agreed softly.

He was sure that she could get him to do anything with those eyes.

After unlocking her door, she welcomed him into her home, the lights on the downstairs all off signaling that her parents had gone to bed. Flicking through light switch on in the entryway, she kicked her boots off before shedding her coat, hanging it on the hook by her parent’s. Marcus did the same, except he chose to drape his coat over his arm, holding onto it until they reached the kitchen, then setting it down on the barstool of the island.

“So, what was her name?” Nathalie asked in a hushed voice as she started to prepare the kettle on the stove.

“Teresa,” he sighed, pulling out the barstool as silently as he could before sitting down in it. “We worked together on a case, art theft. I, uh, liked her a lot. But there was another guy who was always sort of there—in between us. I guess I thought I needed to hurry up and settle down with her before he could, I don’t know. I definitely wasn’t doing it because I was sure that I wanted to marry her. I knew she didn’t love me like she loved him, but I wasn’t ready to give up on the fantasy I’d created in my head of a wife and kids.”

Nathalie turned around once the kettle had been set on the flame, resting her elbows on the island and studying the hurt in his eyes.

“Have you given up on that?” She asked, watching as he shook his head.

“No,” he chuckled. “I still believe in real love and want to have a family someday, I just…I’d like to think I’ve gotten better about being realistic about it.”

“Did you think Emily was gonna be the one?” She teased, earning a guffaw from him.

“Emily was my complete and total opposite in every sense of the word,” he assured, standing up to go join her on the other side of the island, his hand tilting her jaw up.

“Did you two…”

“No.” He shook his head. “She’s saving herself for marriage. Apparently she’s very devout. I didn’t know that.”

“I think that’s the first time religion’s paid off for me,” Nathalie chuckled to herself, lowering her eyes to his belt, her fingertip reaching to trace the metal of it, Marcus’s breath catching in response.

“Thought I heard a noise down here,” Mrs. Moss walked into the kitchen and broke the pair apart, Marcus clearing his throat while Nathalie moved to take the whistling kettle off the heat. “How was dinner?”

“It was good,” Nathalie replied through a still fuzzy mind, Marcus’s cologne still permeating her senses.

“Good!” Her mother’s attention turned to Marcus as he fetched a couple mugs out of one of the cabinets, having become familiar with the Moss kitchen over the years. “Marcus, any ideas for date number two?”

“Mom.” Nathalie scolded as she stood beside a chuckling Marcus, dropping a tea bag in each mug before filling them with water.

“Actually, yeah. I’m going into the city for some last minute Christmas shopping this weekend and I invited Nat to come,” he smiled as he glanced over at Nathalie, carefully measuring honey on a spoon before dropping it into the hot tea.

“Oh, how fun! It’s been half a year since she’s left our little town.” Her mom teased, earning another embarrassed groan from her daughter. Marcus couldn’t help but feel even more endeared to her as she blushed her way through fixing him a cup of tea, avoiding both pairs of eyes locked onto her.

“Mom, Marcus and I were talking,” Nathalie gave her mom a look that she hoped conveyed her desperation for more alone time with her date, but of course, Mrs. Moss couldn’t be subtle about it—not so long as it embarrassed her daughter.

“Oh! Talking. Right. Wink, wink.” Mrs. Moss retired back upstairs while Nathalie groaned and covered her face.

“I’m so sorry—“

“Don’t be, I love your mom,” he assured, rubbing her back. “I think it’s sweet how invested in your life she is. My mom’s the same way.”

“I think we have them to thank for us finally getting together,” she raised her mug up as though to toast, Marcus beaming as he lifted his own and clinked it against hers.

“To our meddling mothers,” he proposed.

“Gotta love ‘em.”

taglist: @joelmillerscoffee @ajeff855 @wildemaven @axshadows @sherala007 @browneyes-issac @tooflef @mariasabana @tae27 @kimm4710 @stxrrylunatic @sara-alonso @paulalikestuff @jbh-castaway @oceandolores @mandomover @chxpsi @auberosier @mashomasho @vanemando15 @wickedmunson @marvel-sw-lover @jediknight122 @harriedandharassed @star-wars-fan-2005 @alwaysdjarin @jalobro @trickstersp8 @mccn-bcys @manuymesut @trinkets01 @tanzthompson @jlmaddinson @hopeamarsu @fanofverymanythings @lovesbiggerthanpride @pinkything @fireproofmarta @littlenosoul @tryonmyworld @berriesarepunk @laureliciousdefinition @camishadjarin @rav3n-pascal22 @fishingforpike @rocketrhap3000 @amneris21 @lexloon @alwayslurkinginthebackground @myrealmofchaos @under-the-seas

[antoncore]

hi cee gm!!

not to get straight to business but are down for/comfortable with dilf! headcanons?

- 🧸 anon

morning!!! how r uu? and ofc i can (i’m gonna talk abt eunseok bc the thought of him as a dad…mmmm)

i can see him as a rich, young dad. he had his son with his ex-fiancée who eventually cheated on him and had a baby with another man (she was only using him for the money anyway). you were his son’s nursery teacher and from the first day he saw you, he thought you were beautiful. he noticed how gentle and patient you were with his son and the sweet smile you gave every morning that made his entire day. as time went by, he’d linger during drop offs and pick ups, sometimes bringing a extra cup of coffee with the excuse of you needing energy to deal with such young children all day.

one day months later, he asked you out to a local restaurant for a casual dinner after work under the guise of wanting to discuss his son’s progress and how he could support him at home. you accepted, familiar with other rich parents’ tendencies to invite you to coffee and dinner. you felt slightly nervous, eunseok was attractive and you wanted to look your best. however, the initial nerves faded through the naturally flowing conversation and you found yourself enjoying eunseok’s company. at the end of the night, eunseok would confess that he really just wanted to get to know you better, making you blush slightly. he wanted to take things slow though, telling you about his past relationship.

as months went by, you started to be more integrated into each others lives. he would drive you to work on the days he didn’t have his son, picking you up after and take you on dates before taking you to his house where he fucked you so good (he would make it rlly passionate - he wanted to express his love when you had sex). you became official, attending his son’s soccer games, going for walks and playing games with him. he loved you so much and he dreamed of having a child with you someday, when you felt ready of course <3

[throne-for-queens]

While I do agree that everything was unserious, it’s the fact that yesterday everyone was clutching their panties for bringing up his relationship with regards to the lyrics of his new Jelly song which it clearly was, but today they seem very comfortable clinging on to the fact that a so called ‘friend’ who probably knows as much or even less than what we do, cast aspersions on their relationship.

Well if you do want to look for believable information from a credible ‘friend’, I would rather believe Jelly when he called Megan his wife during the video promotions for Harley homecoming a month ago or Bunnie who regularly gushes about them as a unit. Bunnie even reposted couple of days back on her ig , that clip from her interview where Colson was speaking about the relationship.

Lastly don’t know what kind of a ‘friend’ talks so casually about another friends relationship, that they are not even sure about. Maybe she’s better off keeping her husbands d*** off everyone’s face 💀Iykwim

Jelly and Bunnie's relationship with Colson is completely different from his relationship with Tommy and Brittany. Also, Jelly said the whole "wife" thing in July - who's to say the relationship hasn't constantly changed since then? Brittany very lightly brushed up on the topic after praising Colson for being a sweet person because her friend asked if he was single. Brittany is not obligated to know every relationship situation of every friend she has. He texts her for random things like a dog psychic, and I highly doubt that she's going to go out of her way to be in his business about Megan. From how she spoke, she doesn't sound like she's met or interacted with Megan, so there is no reason for her to reach out to him about a girl she's most likely never met. Based on Megan's words and interviews, she assumed, like a majority of people, that they are on and off. Jelly and Bunnie most likely are aware of that, but what would they gain from saying that, and where would they mention that to begin with? Bunnie has a pile of interviews to get through, and Jelly is working on a tour - no one's concerned with updating the world on the many breakups of MGK and Megan Fox. Jelly called Megan Colson's wife, but they are not engaged, so unless there was some paperwork filed, how is that credible? Megan won't even call Colson her boyfriend, ex-fiancé, or husband, so what proof do we have that she even sees him that way still? Everything from our perspective is just speculation until proven otherwise. I still think this whole thing was blown way out of proportion, and if Colson really had an issue with it, he could have texted Brittany or Tommy to have the video edited, and since it didn't happen, I'm going to assume he's fine with it.

[jesuis-melodrama]

Not Mentioned in Title Once

Talking about the track Kill Bill from SZA's latest studio album SOS. Check out this cover, look at how hypnotic it is, how blue those waves are.

The song is about SZA fantasying about killing her ex and his new girlfriend. What started out as whimsical if deadly thoughts transforms into tragic reality with the change of lyrics from "might" to "just".

I might kill my ex, not the best idea His new girlfriend's next, how'd I get here? I might kill my ex, I still love him, though Rather be in jail than alone

Oh, I just killed my ex, not the best idea (Idea) Killed his girlfriend next, how'd I get here? I just killed my ex, I still love him, though (I do) Rather be in hell than alone

The first line of the song: "I'm still a fan even though I was salty", alludes to the image of the album's cover in a chic, casual manner.

Kill Bill, with the first instalment released in 2003 and its sequel following in 2004, is a quintessential Quentin Tarantino film, following signature tropes of aesthetic violence, culture, and cinematic justice. In this case, protagonist The Bride hunting down her old assassination squad whom were responsible for the infanticide of her unborn child, her own brutal almost-death, and the murder of her forgettable fiancé.

Apart from the insatiable desire to hunt down and commit vengeance upon a past lover, there is not much connecting the two media, and there could not be a stronger difference between the fairy-like pop tunes of SZA's Kill Bill, compared to Tarantino's gritty and painful original.

But the essence of self-loyalty still remains, both The Bride and SZA's proxy within the song following the callings of their heart even though it might lead them down some trouble, some unethical paths.

Despite being the very title of the track, the words Kill Bill are not sung once in SZA's song, which not only marks her out as a surprising fan of Tarantino's works, but provides an Easter Egg for patrons to both artists. You'll have to watch the movie to understand why the song is called so.

[mysteriouslytransparentwombat]

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[bjorkncaddel]

𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 at her when she spoke she wouldn't take her enough. ❛ It is not a problem. ❜ She tries to assure her everything is fine, and it wasn't a bother. This is not the first time the blonde was there when somebody needed a friend, and certainly wouldn't be the last. ❛ I don't think it of you. Besides, just because a person had ONE bad day, doesn't say anything about them. ❜ The Swedish blonde spoke calmly, as she explained what she thought. ⏤ The art curator kept holding her hand, looking at the landscape of the window now, and casually staring at Honey. Neva had no idea what to say or do to assure the brunette everything was fine. ❛ It's fine really. ❜ Another attempt to try to drop this topic, she does not want the other woman overthinking her inner demons right now. This ride was taking an eternity!

❛ Do I? Am I a Jedi now? ❜ The Swedish blonde spoke with a certain humor in her tone, despite not knowing exactly what she wanted to talk about. Either way, she was glad the task of distracting her was working. ⏤ ❛ Uh, yes, I found my mother's gift. It was a new brand dress that is true couture, it'll be shown in the next Vogue edition. My mother is a former Miss World, therefore explains her passion for fashion. ❜ If anything the blonde rarely speaks much about what her mother does, but lately, she spoke about what she did to find people who could potentially help her in finding something interesting, or catchy for her mother. Alina was the person who got the idea and helped her.

❛ Do you think I should tell Ryan to not bring anything to my mom? I mean, he's going to meet my family. That's embarrassing enough. ❜ The friend in question was 'Ryan', who would pose as her fake boyfriend. ❛ So, I plan to present my date as my boyfriend so my ex-fiancé gives up on me. And I would end up happy. And I would owe something to Ry, anything of his nerd stuff I'll be willing to do. Nobody deserves to meet my family, trust me. ❜

“—thank you…” Honey responded with a smile, once again feeling relief that her friend had accepted to stay with her so easily. she didn’t want to go home alone and continue freaking out. “ugh, Neva I can’t thank you enough for tonight!” she then exclaimed, realizing that since the second she accidentally met the blonde inside the club, she had been in constant position in need of some kind of aid; it frankly sounded pathetic as she thought about it now. “you must think I am so much to handle,” her tone a little lighter, joking as she laughed a little, hoping that she hadn’t really been that overbearing, not as much as she felt, hopefully.

still holding on her friend’s hand for some form of support, not having fully recovered from the black out and the turmoil of emotions that followed after, she leaned her head against the cold window. the passing lights offered some sort of distraction to her still racing heart. a night that she was supposed to go out and unwind, relax a little from all the work she had to put in her platforms and content the past few days had turned into a nightmare. quite literally, she did not feel like she had was exaggerating; first the creepy dude who couldn’t take a hint, and when Neva showed up, finally a promise of a good time with a good friend, the power went out sending her into a frenzy. she was tired, embarrassed and down right felt more worn out than she initially had before going out tonight. “I wish I hadn’t tried to convince you to stay and we had both left now…” she quietly admitted. In reality, she didn’t want to ponder on her panic attack any more, she didn’t want to think about it, nothing good would come out of it. In time, she could tell Neva why she had been so freaked out, but not now. when Neva spoke again, Honey laughed once again grateful she was being so considerate, trying to distract her which was exactly what she needed. the influencer turned  to look at her with a smile. “you know what I want to ask,” she teased the younger woman, resting her head against the back-seat window once more, but this time looking at her friend. “so...your mom’s birthday party?” she playfully slapped Neva’s leg, “what do you have in mind?” and then “and did you get your mom a gift? I can help if you still need to!” she offered.

[beauvibaby]

He found me – Jake Seresin “Hangman”

summary: you move to live near your aunt to escape your abusive ex, but what happens when you fall for a navy pilot?

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!! Also not proofread, sorry y’all 🥲

Warnings: talk of physical abuse, degrading talk, depictions of abuse, anxiety, panic attack, slight depression, gun use, death

Everytime you close your eyes, you thought of Jake, you have completely totally fallen, even if it’s only been a couple of months, but you wouldn’t dare open that side of you up yet. “Baby?” Jake mumbled, he nudged you softly, shaking you from your daze, “we gotta move up.” He laughed softly, his hand on your back as you giggled nervously. “Sorry.” You mumbled, releasing the tension from your shoulders as he tucked you into his chest when the ocean breeze came over. It was a local food truck night down by the beach, it was a perfect casual date, but the lines were insanely long. “That’s alright,” he paused, glancing down at you, “everything ok? You’ve been awfully quiet tonight.” He asked, smiling when you looked up at him. He recognized the love struck look in your eyes, he knew it was the same way he looked at you, but he too was cautious with the word love, after being burned before. “Yeah, just thinking is all, the bar has been busy, Penny wants me to help her hide a new bartender.” You made a small fib, but it got him off your back, you just weren’t quite ready to tell him aloud what had happened in your past.

***

“Y/N, he needs to know.” Penny whispered as she consoled you in the back room of the hard deck. You nodded even though you were sobbing, you and Jake had gotten into an argument and you had a panic attack and ran off. He was distraught as Penny refused to let him back here to check on you, he didn’t know about your whole past, he knew you moved here in a hurry, and he met you within a month of you being here. He thought you moved to be closer to your aunt Penny, but he didn’t know, he couldn’t even begin to guess that you moved here to get away from your abusive ex fiancé.

Penny welcomed you as soon as you called her crying from the bus station, she helped you get back on your feet here, she held you when you cried and encouraged you when you were brave, but she recognized that Jake was becoming that for you even if you didn’t realize it. “Here’s what we’re gonna do honey, you’re going to go in the bathroom and wash off this runny mascara, I’ll clock you out and Jake is going to take you home. You have to tell him, he can’t help if he doesn’t know.” Penny spoke slowly, finally feeling your breathing begin to even out, “ok.” You whispered, nodding your head, mentally preparing yourself. “What if he doesn’t want to deal with me after this?” You asked, you knew it was stupid. “Believe me, he cares about you, I’ve never seen him with anyone the way he is with you.” Penny assured, “and if he has a problem with it, he knows I’ll beat his ass and put Maverick on him.” She teased to lighten the mood, she kissed your head before ushering you to the employee bathroom.

“Maverick, please, I’ve never seen her like that before, let me check on her!” Jake pleaded, he was getting frustrated as his captain kept blocking him and making him sit on the bar stool. Phoenix and Bradley looked over when Penny came out, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Jake.” She waved him over to the corner, finally Maverick let him get through, shooting Penny a concerned glance. “She’s in the bathroom, I need you to take her home, ok? She’s gotta talk to you about something.” Penny instructed, Jake stood rigid as he nodded, not liking how serious Penny was being. “If you hurt her–“ “I won’t, Penny, I swear on my career.” Jake cut her off, stepping away when you came out, eyes puffy and makeup washed off.

“Hey babe.” He spoke softly, rubbing your shoulders, “you want me to take you home?” He asked, giving you a soft smile when you nodded. “Ok.” He tucked you under his arm and led you out, ignoring the looks from his team, they knew he was falling for you these last few months but it was still odd to see Hangman be a gentleman.

Jake opened the car door for you, giving you his hand to help you get up into his truck, “thanks.” Your voice was hoarse and it made him frown, not realizing how badly you were affected by whatever set you off.

When you got to your house you let Jake in wordlessly and immediately locked the door behind him, something he had noticed you do before, he had a brief thought flash through his head, but he refused to let that be true. He thought back to when he raised his hand to pull on his hair when you two bickered and how you cowered away before speed walking into the back. “Y/N.” Jake mumbled, you turned to him nervously, “what do you need to tell me?” He asked, keeping the distance that you had provided, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. You turned, lifting your shirt up and revealing a scar along your side, Jake gasped. “His name is Mike, he started when we got engaged.” You whispered, voice trembling, “he was always aggressive, yelling over stupid things, but then he hit me once, he swore it was only once but…” you trailed off, motioning to the scar, “this was my last straw.” You declared, putting on a brave front. “I wrote a note, told him I was leaving him, and then I got on a bus here to stay with my aunt. He doesn’t know about her, he doesn’t even know her name, it was the best shot I had.” You concluded, finally turning to look at Jake who looked furious but also concerned.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry this happened to you, I’m sorry I scared you at the bar. Baby I would never, never, lay a hand on you.” He whispered, hesitating to step closer, you nodded and he approached slowly, finally pulling you into his arms. “I know you wouldn’t, I’m sorry I freaked out.” You sniffled, feeling him shake his head. “You have every right to feel that way, it’s a trigger for you and I promise I’ll keep that in mind.” He pulled away to kiss you softly, now he was putting together the pieces, the way you jumped at certain things, how you always stayed safely behind the bar when you were working. You flinched when the doorbell rang, “hey, it’s alright.” Jake murmured, he went over to the door and looked, he didn’t see anything so he unlocked it and peeked outside. He furrowed his eyebrows as he saw a food delivery with a note on it. “What is it?” You asked, petrified as you stood a few feet behind him, debating on grabbing something to make you feel like you had a chance against an attacker. “Penny sent us dinner.” He laughed, turning back to you as he locked the door, you breathed a sigh of relief, “does that mean you can stay tonight?” You asked sheepishly, but feeling better when Jake grinned like a fool. “I’ll take all the time I can get with you before I deploy.” He assured you, he could see your smile falter when you realized the deployment was coming up fast, but you pushed it aside and decided to enjoy the time with him.

What could go wrong?

***

Jake had left late last night for the mission, and you were finally back to work after Penny insisted you take a couple of days off.

“Oh, thanks for the food the other night.” You spoke up as you and Penny stocked the coolers, she was about to nod but then she realized she didn’t know what you were talking about. “I didn’t send food.” She felt the air go rigid at her words, “what?” You mumbled, eyes wide. “The night Jake took you home?” She asked for clarification, “yes, food got delivered and there was a note on it that said it was from you.” You explained to her, your eyes begging her to say oh yeah I forgot, but she didn’t. “Y/N, don’t panic now. It couldn’t possibly be.” Penny cautioned you as she saw your chest beginning to rise and fall rapidly. “Penny. He’s gotta be here, who else would do that?” You whispered, even though the bar wasn’t open yet and there was no one around to see or hear you. “Honey, breathe.” She grabbed you by the shoulders, “you’re going to stay with me until Jake comes back, ok? Everything is going to be fine.” Your aunt feigned confidence but it worked enough for you to take a slow breath and nod. You couldn’t do anything but hope she was right and keep your head on a swivel.

You were on edge all night, flinching every time there was a loud noise, feeling like you heard his voice everywhere.

As the night started to fizzle out, you felt a little more at ease, the longer nothing happened the more you were convinced everything was ok. Tommy tapped you on the shoulder, “it’s for you, Y/N.” He handed over the bar phone, your mind instantly thought maybe it was Jake, maybe he got to make a call. “Hello?” You spoke cheerily, being met with nothing, “hello?” You repeated again, not letting your mind go where it was trying to. “I’ll let you know when we’re over.” Mike snarled and then the line went dead. You had to grab the counter so you didn’t fall to the ground, you spun around, looking for that unforgettable face. “Penny, he found me, he found me.” You whispered, “he called the bar, oh my god, I can’t stay here.” You were spiraling now. “What?” Penny gasped, she took the phone and looked at the last number that called, the number was blocked, of course it was, he’s not stupid.

“What do I do?” You asked, forcing yourself to remain somewhat calm as you made someone’s drink, the bar didn’t care that your life was falling apart, the customers still wanted their alcohol. “You stay calm, you stay with me, and we’ll figure this out. We can call the cops, you can get a restraining order.” She explained, racking her brain for any other ideas, it was hard to come up with anything since you had never reported any abuse to the police. You flinched as your phone rang in your pocket, you fished it out and gasped when you saw Jake’s name on your screen. “Hello?” You rushed to the back, Penny smiling as she heard the excitement in your voice. “Hi babe.” Jake breathed out, relieved to hear your voice, he was a little upset when they got their assignments last night, but he knew it was for a reason. “I miss you, Jake.” You sighed, you weren’t going to tell him what’s happened, that can wait until he’s home and safe. “I miss you too, Y/N, I come home tomorrow, just a quick in and out mission.” He assured you, you could picture his smile. “I don’t have long, but I just wanted to hear your voice honey.” He charmed, you giggled, “that’s what I’m here for.” You joked, looking out the window towards the dark beach. You saw a man yelling at a girl and it made you tense up. “Jake, I’m really sorry but it’s swamped at the bar and Penny really needs me.” You spoke quickly, setting off an alarm in his head. “Oh, ok, I’ll see you soon, bye babe.” He hardly used your name anymore and you loved it, you loved him.

“Bye.” You whispered, putting the phone back in your pocket, you ran your hands over your face. “Snap out of it, Y/N.” You muttered, forcing your brain to zone out as you finished the rest of your shift.

***

You tried to crawl away but you couldn’t, he was too fast, “what do you mean you aren’t happy?” Mike shouted, the belt pulled taught in his hands as you laid on the ground. “I do everything for you! Can’t you appreciate that!” He was red in the face, the belt snapped against you again, the same spot, three times, the welt was already there and beginning to get raw and break open. “Mike, please.” You whispered, “please baby.” You knew you had to kiss up to him to make him stop. “You’re hurting me.” You cried, feeling the snap one more time before he tossed it aside. “When I get back you better have dinner ready and this mess cleaned up.” You didn’t dare move until you heard the sound of his car pulling out of the driveway.

You scrambled to your feet in agonizing pain, scribbling a note telling him to go to hell, you grabbed a bag and threw your most important items into it and left, you got on the bus and left, never wanting to see him again.

***

You sat up abruptly at the crashing noise downstairs, “Amelia?” Penny shouted, “I’m in my room.” She answered as you all peeked into the hallway, “motherfucker.” Penny cussed, she went into her room and came back out with a taser, “Amelia go in your room.” She demanded and her daughter didn’t hesitate to listen as she’d never seen her mom this serious. You grabbed your phone and followed her down the stairs slowly, you cringed as they creaked as you walked. Penny reached the bottom and slammed her hand on the light switch, ready to attack if need be. Pete froze like a deer in headlights, cleaning up the lamp he had knocked over and broken. Penny sighed in relief, and you nearly collapsed to be seated on the stairs, your heart finally returning to a normal rhythm. Penny rushed over to hug her boyfriend as realization set in that he was home, early.

“You’re back! Early!” Penny cheered before she remembered you were there too. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” Pete asked in concern, walking over to you, “Jake went to your place, he said he had to see you.” Pete murmured, thinking that you were concerned for your boyfriend. Penny and you went wide eyed at the same time, “my house?!” “Her house?!” You spoke at the same time, Pete flinched as Amelia came thumping down the stairs. “Call him.” Penny demanded, Amelia embracing Pete in a quick hug, “Pete we need to talk.” Penny pulled him aside, catching him up as you bounced your leg as the phone rang and rang, just when you lost hope you heard his cheery voice. “I was trying to surprise you.” Jake laughed, you could still hear that he was driving. “Do not go to my house, I’m staying with Penny.” You demanded, instantly knocking him out of his happy daze. “Why are you–“ “Jake, please just come to Penny’s house. I can’t, I need to know you’re ok.” You whispered, Penny sat beside you, pulling you into her side, “baby, calm down, I’m turning around now.” He assured you, you nodded slowly, “be careful.” Your voice was barely above a whisper but he heard you. “You’re scaring me, what’s going on?” He asked, panicking a little when he heard the shift of your phone before Penny’s voice came over the line.

“He found her, and she needs you, Jake.” She told him and he went rigid before speeding up as he was only a few minutes away. “I’m coming.” The line went dead after that as he tossed his phone aside to focus on the road.

“Alright, he’s coming, let’s not get all worked up.” Penny sighed, Pete nodded in agreement, “I know my words probably feel empty, Y/N, but I promise Jake and I, the whole team, would do anything to keep you safe.” Pete whispered, taken back when you rushed to hug him. Penny fanned at her eyes to push the tears back as you broke down in his arms. “Thank you.” You cried, “it’s alright.” Pete murmured, rubbing your back softly. He had never seen you like this, but he was one of the few who knew what brought you here, and he wanted nothing more than to see you bright and happy like you were the first time he met you years ago. The sound of a truck pulling up in the driveway eased your nerves, the door slammed and in record speed the front door was being pushed open and there stood Jake. Pete let go of you and you ran over to Jake, letting him pick you up in a koala hug. “Did he hurt you?” Jake whispered, cautious of Amelia being there and not wanting to scare her anymore as she sat beside her mom with a pale face. “No.” You shook your head, “he called the bar, and he was the one who sent us food.” You whispered, holding Jake tighter as he walked into the kitchen to give you two some space from everyone else.

***

Days had turned into weeks, and before you knew it, it had been a month since you’d had anything to do with Mike, it was like he fell off the face of the earth after that night. You were finally feeling at ease, maybe he’d found something else to fixate on, had you really been able to escape him for good?

You sat next to Penny in the crowd, the team was being awarded medals for their last mission, you hadn’t known how dangerous it was until afterwards, since Jake wasn’t allowed to say anything. You had your phone tucked away into your little crossbody bag, clapping as they began to give out the medals, it was being done on base, it was a beautiful day outside and you were enjoying getting to see the team being recognized for everything they do. Penny clapped and stood up when they announced Pete, making you giggle as Pete shot her a proud smile. You were so happy for them, finally they got on the right track, because you always knew he was the one for her.

You felt your phone vibrating in your bag, but you didn’t think much of it as you beamed with pride when Jake caught your gaze, you blew him a kiss, smirking when he gave you a cheesy grin. You loved him, it was time to tell him, you decided at that moment, as soon as this was over and you were able to see him, he would know how you felt.

Rooster was next, then Phoenix, then Bob. You knew Jake would be next in line so you got your phone out, eyes landing on the messages you had.

Each one was another picture of right now, first a far shot, but then they got progressively closer, the final one, a picture of Jake smiling right at you. “Penny.” You thrusted the phone into her hand, quickly looking around, that son of a bitch. You weren’t even scared at this point, you were mad, you were so furious that he felt like he had this control over your life. Penny began to look too, though she didn’t know what he looked like, she was confident he would be noticeable as a creep. “Gun, get down!” The security officers shouted, sending everyone into a panic, you flew to the ground, hands over your head as you heard three rounds get fired, people were screaming, kids were crying. Penny laid over your back to protect you, flinching everytime the guns went off. You were shaking like a leaf as it suddenly got quiet, the only commotion heard was boots hitting the ground as you assumed the security team had hit Mike. Penny slowly lifted her head, looking around, she wasn’t the only one, “Y/N.” She tugged on your arm, “is that him?” She whispered as you moved to kneel instead of being hunched over, your eyes drifted towards the group of guards, they were talking fast and moving even faster. You finally let your gaze fall to the man lying on the ground, clearly bleeding out, your stomach lurched, “yes.” You whispered, “that’s him, oh my-oh my god.”

“Penny, Y/N!” You heard, making you look away from what you presumed was Mike lying dead on the ground. “Y/N!” Jake hollered, following Pete through the crowd as everyone made their way to their families. Rooster was in tow, as Pete was the only one who was here for him. “Jake!” You pushed through some people, nearly falling into him, “are you ok?” You both asked at the same time. “Yes.” You nodded as you spoke, cupping his face as you looked for any damage to him. “I’m ok.” He sighed, hugging you tightly, “I love you.” He declared, “I couldn’t wait any longer to say that, and then I thought something happened to you and–“ you cut him off with a kiss. “I love you, Jake.” You assured him, kissing him once more. “It was Mike, with the gun, they shot him.” You told him nervously, feeling immense guilt if something had happened to anyone here. Jake went wide eyed as he looked over when they placed Mike on a gurney, it was clear he was gone but they had to try. “I’m gonna be sick.” You muttered hiding your face in Jake’s chest. Jake rubbed your back and pushed your hair to the side as he felt your neck burning up.

“It’s ok, it’s all gonna be ok.” He murmured, it was over now, you could move on, with Jake, you could be happy again.

You will be happy again.

Tagging: @eberles @miracleonice87 @suitandtys (thank you tiff for helping me with this fic!)