#or if I should just use it on my bed as intended in summer

[egglygreg]

I found this plum coloured satin sheet in an op shop and bought it, turns out it's 100% silk satin and from a brand named Hermes.

I had never heard of them, but mum had. She said they're a luxury brand mostly known for their scarves and bags, so I looked it up. I couldn't find any sheets (I think it's actually pretty old so must have been a previous thing they offered), but what I DID find...

This weird blanket. How much do you think this blanket costs? Take a wild guess

Did you guess $1, $1.5 thousand? Well you'd be wrong, try $10, 485!!!!

I mean it is cashmere, which has a complex method of collection, but the item itself isn't even hand made, it's done by machine. Also it's very ugly (to me) and mostly white! Imagine spilling something on that!

But what REALLY got me was the fact that they make some stuff for dogs. They also make horse stuff (but of course they do, plus their emblem is a horse), but I didn't bother looking at that stuff since horse things are insanely expensive anyway.

But things for dogs. How much do you think this red plastic dog frisbee costs?

$350. For a plastic dog frisby that pooch will slobber all over and chew to bits.

Even more wild to me is buying a leash that costs $1, 520!! For a leash! So many dogs I've known chew on them, and it would literally take a dog half a minute to destroy that! Why!?

Rich people are WILD

[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.

[shitsndgiggs]

so, single dad kenan and oc are in an arranged marriage. their marriage is awkward but filled with undeniable tension and chemistry. kenan takes oc and his child to a summer holiday on the beach and kenan can't keep on denying how hot oc is, especially in her swimsuit. she is also feeling the vibes. one evening, she comes out from a shower in a towel and kenan's there, to her least expectation. and boom, some hot ass smut session.

A/N: WARNING SMUT !!

HEAT OF THE MOMENT - KENAN YILDIZ

You both finally give into temptation

Single dad! Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The summer sun blazed high in the sky as we settled into our vacation routine. Kenan, his daughter, and I had arrived at the beachside villa a few days ago, and the atmosphere was as tense as ever.

This was supposed to be a break, a chance for us to get to know each other better after our arranged marriage.

But the truth was, our relationship was still awkward, filled with unspoken words and a tension that simmered just beneath the surface.

Kenan was a good father, attentive and loving to his little girl, and he treated me with kindness. But there was a distance between us that neither of us seemed willing to cross. That is, until this trip.

I had noticed the way his eyes lingered on me whenever I wore my bikini, the way his gaze would darken with something unspoken whenever we were close.

And I couldn’t deny that I felt the same pull.

Kenan was undeniably handsome, his body toned from years of training as a professional athlete, and being around him every day was testing my resolve.

One evening, after a long day of sunbathing and playing with his daughter, I retreated to our shared bedroom for a shower.

The cool water cascaded over my skin, washing away the heat of the day and the lingering thoughts of Kenan. But no matter how hard I tried to push them away, they kept coming back.

Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around myself and walked into the bedroom, expecting to have a moment alone to collect my thoughts. But as I rounded the corner, I froze.

Kenan was there, standing by the bed with his back to me, sorting through a duffle bag.

He must have come in while I was in the shower, and he clearly hadn’t heard me.

“Kenan,” I said softly, my voice betraying the surprise I felt.

He turned around, his eyes widening slightly when he saw me standing there in nothing but a towel.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the air thick with tension. His gaze roamed over me, taking in every inch of exposed skin, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his voice rough as he forced his eyes back to my face. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” I interrupted, though my voice came out shakier than I intended. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

Kenan didn’t move, his eyes locked on mine as if he was trying to figure out what to do next.

The heat between us was palpable, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I stood there, rooted to the spot.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice low and hesitant. “You should…get dressed. I’ll give you some privacy.”

But he didn’t move. And neither did I.

Instead, we just stood there, the tension between us crackling like electricity. The weight of the unspoken attraction that had been building between us since the day we met felt like it was about to explode.

“Kenan,” I whispered, my voice barely audible as I took a small step forward.

That was all it took.

In an instant, Kenan closed the distance between us, his hands reaching out to pull me close.

The towel slipped from my fingers as his lips crashed down on mine in a kiss that was desperate and full of pent-up desire.

His hands roamed over my back, pressing me against him as if he couldn’t get enough.

I melted into him, my arms wrapping around his neck as I returned the kiss with equal fervor.

This was what we had been dancing around for weeks, and now that the barrier was broken, there was no going back.

Kenan’s hands found the edge of my towel, and with one swift motion, it was gone, leaving me completely exposed to him.

But instead of feeling vulnerable, I felt empowered, wanted in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to feel since our marriage began.

He pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged as he looked down at me, his eyes dark with lust. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he admitted, his voice hoarse.

“Then don’t hold back,” I whispered, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pulled him down for another kiss.

I tasted the salt of the sea on his lips, mixed with the sweetness of his desire, and I responded eagerly, opening my mouth to him.

His tongue teased and explored, and I moaned, feeling his hands roam over my back, pulling me closer.

I pressed myself against him, feeling his hardness against my belly. He groaned into my mouth, his hands moving down to cup my ass, squeezing the fleshy cheeks.

I ground myself against him, feeling his cock twitch, and he broke the kiss, nipping at my neck.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he growled, his breath hot against my skin.

I laughed, a throaty, lust-filled sound, and pushed him gently away, turning so that my back was against his chest.

I reached behind me, finding the hard length of him, and squeezed gently, feeling him shudder.

“Feel free to explore," I whispered, and I guided his hands to my breasts, my nipples already tight and begging for attention.

He cupped my breasts, thumbs rubbing over the sensitive peaks, and I arched into his touch, gasping.

His mouth found the sensitive skin of my neck, kissing and sucking, while his hands continued to worship my breasts.

I felt his fingers tweak and pull at my nipples, sending sparks of pleasure straight to my core. I squirmed against him, wanting to feel him everywhere.

Then his hands left my breasts, trailing down my body, over my stomach, and finally, to the curls between my thighs.

I spread my legs, inviting him, and his fingers found my wetness, sliding through my folds with ease.

"So wet," he groaned, his fingers slipping inside me with no resistance.

I bit my lip, my eyes fluttering closed as he pumped his fingers in and out, the pace steady and deliberate. His thumb found my clit, rubbing small circles that had me bucking my hips, chasing the pleasure.

"Please, don't stop," I panted, my hands covering his, holding him against me.

He added another finger, stretching and filling me, his thumb never stopping its delicious circles. "You feel so good around my fingers, baby," he whispered, his hot breath in my ear sending shivers through me. "But I want to feel your tight pussy around my cock."

I moaned at his dirty words, the image of his thick cock sliding into me making my core clench. "Then take me," I demanded, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.

He growled in response, turning me to face him, and then lifted me, sitting me on the edge of the bed.

I watched as he stripped quickly, his clothes falling to the floor, and then he stood before me, his cock hard and thick, begging for attention.

I reached out, wrapping my hand around his length, and stroked gently, feeling him throb in my hand. "I want to taste you," I whispered, and then leaned forward, licking a long stripe up his shaft.

He hissed, his fingers tangling in my hair, and I took him in deeper, sucking and laving my tongue around his head. "Fuck, that's good," he groaned, his hips bucking gently..

I took my time, savoring the feel and taste of him, before he gently pulled me away. "I need to be inside you," he said hoarsely, and I nodded, my body yearning for him.

He climbed onto the bed, lifting my legs and settling between them. I felt the head of his cock nudge at my entrance, and then he pushed forward, filling me in one slow, delicious thrust.

"Oh god," I moaned, feeling stretched and full.

He paused, giving me a moment to adjust, before beginning to move. Slow, deep thrusts that had me moaning and squirming beneath him.

His hands gripped my hips, guiding his movements, and I met his thrusts, rising to meet him with each delicious slide.

"You like that, baby?" he growled, his eyes dark with desire.

"Yes," I cried out, my fingers digging into his arms. "Harder, please."

He obliged, increasing his pace and force, slamming into me with a rhythm that had the bed creaking and my breath coming in short gasps.

"Tight little pussy," he grunted, his sweat-slicked chest gleaming in the soft light. "So fucking tight."

I tightened my inner muscles around him, feeling him swell inside me, and he cursed, his hips stuttering. "Fuck, you're gonna make me cum," he warned, his voice strained.

I wanted to feel him lose control, wanted to know I could affect him so deeply. "Cum for me," I pleaded, my voice high and needy.

His eyes rolled back, and with a few more hard thrusts, he stiffened, roaring out his release. I felt his hot cum filling me, his cock twitching as he pumped his seed into me.

The sensation pushed me over the edge, and I cried out, my orgasm washing over me in waves of pleasure.

Kenan collapsed onto the bed beside me, breathing heavily, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me close.

I snuggled into his side, feeling his heart slow, and a sense of contentment filled me.

"Well," I said with a satisfied smile, "I'd say our marriage is off to a pretty good start."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to my hair, and we lay there, sated and relaxed, as the night closed in around us.

[thatsdemko]

cruel summer - a.leclerc

masterlist

t-swift inspired works list

requested: n

pairings: Arthur leclerc x gasly!fem!reader

warnings: nsfw + not intended for minors + mentions of alcohol + teasing + mentions of flings/hookups

a/n: yes my tags are under f1 I just don’t know how many people view the f2 works tags. wrote this at 5am a couple weeks ago! feedback is always appreciated xx

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

you’re not looking to fall in love you’re just looking for something fun for the summer. after having dealt with a harsh break up, the last thing you need is a man occupying your mind.

that’s until the annual gasly and leclerc siblings vacation in Italy. Arthur was just facing a fresh new start after a rough breakup as well, and a month in the countryside couldn’t have sounded more appealing. he’s also not looking for anything serious.

that’s until he sees you curled up under the blankets around the bonfire, body leaning against his older brother, Lorenzo. the orangey red flames reflect your beautiful features to him, and all of a sudden any idea of a summer fling has fallen short. he’s now realizing maybe there’s a chance to fall in love again.

you’re sipping on the last of the limoncello when Lorenzo calls it a night for himself. he presses a kiss to your forehead and wraps the rest of your blanket around your body. Charles nods along saying it’s late for him, but you and Arthur could stay longer. and you do.

“you’re not tired?” he asks, watching your tipsy body sway in the chair. your brother, Pierre, takes your glass from you officially cutting you off for the night.

“don’t need to get wasted on the first night.” he shakes his head in disapproval, and it’s his turn to head in for the evening. the three older boys have a big day ahead of them, they planned to head into town and do some racing while the two of you hung back.

“I should probably go to bed too.” you sigh watching the flames dance around the fire pit. you look up to see Arthur’s fixated on the flames too. you’ve noticed the distant lost look in his eyes, you didn’t question his appearance, you’re sure you look the same. it’s a cruel summer so far, and god you’re hoping it turns around.

—

it’s 3am when you find yourself tending to your drunk cravings. you tossed and turned in the bed trying to fight sleep, but the liquor still in your system was craving something salty.

you’re sitting at the dinning room table attempting to make as little noise as possible with the bag of chips in front of you. the house is silent, the only thing that fills the air is the sound of light snores and now you’re loud bag of chips.

it wakes Arthur up— but to your lack of knowledge he’s already awake. he hadn’t been able to sleep, your face in the glowing lights of the fire still dance around in his mind. the words of his ex girlfriend telling him he was “unlovable” linger in too, he tries to fight the words and the pictures, but falls short.

he throws the covers off his body, deciding maybe a movie or a television show would tire him out. he wasn’t expecting to see you awake in the kitchen, crumbs of chips around your lips while you munch on them. god even half awake his heart nearly beats out his chest.

“did I wake you?” you ask, guilt washes over you watching him shake his head as he slips into the chair across from you. you tilt the bag in his direction but he declines.

“I was already awake.” he explains watching you devour the salty treat in front of you. he studies how you waste no time to chew before shoving another one in your mouth. he watches you close your eyes in satisfaction of the salty cravings being met.

“how’s your summer been so far?” you ask deciding to fill the silence between you both, growing a little irritated of listening to the light snores.

“could be better, you?” he asks reaching across the table using his thumb to wipe the excess of chip and salt that linger your lips. you nearly stop breathing when his thumb comes in contact with them, his thumb is soft and gentle against your lips. his skin just brushes your chin, heart beginning to pound like crazy over this act.

“yeah same.” your breath is uneasy as you exhale when he finally pulled away. he chuckles to himself watching your pupils dilate, mouth slightly agape, and eyes lustful. he watches you fix yourself and your tipsy state returns once again.

“happy to be out here, away from the world.” he looks out the window adjacent to the table. stars fill the sky, you couldn’t see stuff like that for days in the city. he loves his summers in the countryside; just drinking, tanning, swimming, and most importantly now you. you and your little bikinis your brother warns you not to wear, you and your tight skirts, you and your beautiful figure. he can’t wait for a whole month of it.

“it’s going to be a fun month.” you sigh relaxing into the chair finally full from all the salt and crunching. he takes the bag of chips from you beginning to munch himself.

“yeah? what do you plan to do?” he asks leaning forward. maybe you could be his summer fun, his one time thing that he’ll maybe regret later on, but he won’t now. not when you’re this stunning and so beyond out of his world.

you shrug, “I don’t know, have some fun.” you smile pushing yourself up from the chair feeling exhaustion finally hit you. “I’m just looking for fun.”

he watches you walk away, you’re almost up the stairs when he adds one more thing. the last thing to say before leaving you to dream of tomorrow, “I know how to have fun, y/n.”

“goodnight, Arthur.”

—

you’re laying against your towel, back facing the burning rays, while the four boys play spike ball. the noise of their laughter and grunts are disturbing of your attempt at peace.

you give in to the sound of the wave crashing against the sand and decide to take a swim. you feel a familiar pair of eyes watch you walk past the four boys. you’re wearing the tiniest of bikini bottoms, and a top that’s a size too small for your chest. arthur noticed, of course he noticed. after yesterdays conversation all he can think about is ruining that stupid “bro code” Pierre made him promise to. he promised to never date or mess with his sister.

except it’s summer time, those rules don’t apply to a fun summer, right? he just wants something to occupy his mind, and you already said you’re not looking for anything beyond fun. he’s the perfect contender for this summer job.

“focus, arthur!” Charles fakes a throw at his brothers head, the younger boy flinches in reaction. he nods along going back to the game, but out of the corner of his eye every time the game stops, he sees your body floating across the cool salty waters.

“I think I’m going to go for a swim.” arthur announces when the three others call it a day on the game. they nod along watching him make his way towards where you are. you’re standing, feet sunk into the sand, allowing the waves to crash against your body, every so often going underneath to hear the muffled sounds of the waves crash against the sand.

when you look over towards the boys you notice they are all hanging around on their towels, and one leclerc is missing. your eyes dart around the beach before feeling someone yank your leg from under the water. it’s him.

“you scared me.” you laugh watching him come up for air, wet hair pressed against his forehead. he takes the palm of his hand brushing the hairs back, chuckling at your scared state, hand over your sunburnt chest.

“that was the point.” he says, noticeably moving his eyes up and down your body. taking in the way your bottoms nearly fell down your hips, and the way your top lifted upwards exposing your under breasts.

“cannot believe Pierre let you leave the house like that.” he licks his lips shaking his head, watching your already red face become a darker shade just by his comment.

“well he doesn’t own me.” you say, his body drifts closer due to the waves, you don’t mind, you allow yourself to be taken by them nearly stumbling into his chest. he’s praying to god your brother isn’t seeing this.

“you’re right, but maybe he should’ve said something because the things you do to me. god,” he exhales, a smirk forming his lips as he shakes the dirty thoughts, “it’s unholy.”

you exhale an uneasy sigh feeling warmth spread across your chest, heart rate picking up. you want this, god you want this with him, “tell me about them.” you run your fingers down his abs, they run over every divot and peak of his body.

“why don’t I show you tonight?” he takes his index finger resting it underneath your chin, thumb stroking the side of your face. you can’t say any words just nodding in agreement.

“can’t wait.”

—

the dress you’re wearing flows with the wind, all five of you moving around the winery watching the sunset. you think he’d behave himself this close around your brother, but he allows his arms to slip around your waist every so often, and hand squeeze your ass in any private moment. he’s tearing your patience, and that dress of yours is testing his.

pierre leaves you with the leclerc brothers to go to buy a bottle of wine for you and your family to take back home. you nurse the last couple of sips in your drink listening in on the three boys conversation. your eyes gravitate towards him, his white linen shirt has two buttons undone exposes his cross necklace, and his sun kissed chest. he knows what he’s doing, just like you knew what you were doing when you slipped on the dress with a low v. you’re both making each other beg.

“I’m going to go see what’s taking him so long.” Charles mutters leaving the three of you alone. Lorenzo makes an excuse you can’t remember because now it’s just you two. and he’s already whispering dirty secrets in your ear.

“we are in public, Arthur.” you giggle feeling his hot breath against your ear, it tingles a sensation throughout your body that trickles down your spine.

“I want to take you in this winery.” he whispers, hands pushing the few hairs that brushed in front of your face with the wind. you want him. god you want him bad, you can feel warmth spreading against your panties.

“my brother is here, you can’t.” you hiss, you want to break gaze from him, check on the status of Pierre and see if he’s coming back. but your eyes stay glued to those beautiful thick pink lips. god, you want him to take you in this winery.

“whatever happened to having fun? you don’t want to meet me in the restroom in say five minutes?” he checks his watch beginning to set a timer, he taps it and turns away. on his way inside he runs into Pierre telling him he’s using the restroom before they all leave, and now you’ve got five minutes to make that same excuse.

you sigh unsure what you’ve got yourself in to, but five minutes pass and you’re now heading to the private restroom. softly knocking on the door praying this is the one he’s in, and to your luck he is.

he opens the door and you slip in before anybody could notice, he presses your body against the wall, hands pulling the material of your dress up your thighs while you’re undoing his belt. this is the fastest you’ve got things done, you don’t have much time knowing the three out there would get suspicious.

“I can’t stand you right now.” he mutters, when he finally rips the wet material that’s against your throbbing pussy. you could whine you’re so needy for him.

“you’re cruel, leclerc. teasing me like that.” you spread your legs for him, his fingers grip your thighs as he enters you. you’re doing everything you can to keep yourself quiet— that includes biting the collar of his white linen shirt practically leaving teeth marks.

his thrusts are quick and short, he doesn’t have much time but he’s still showing you how he feels. his tip nudging your clit, pleasure washing over you. you bite down even harder on his shirt feeling tears well against the brims, you so badly want to scream, you can feel your legs beginning to shake. he’s too good for you, he wants to take his time get every part of your memorized.

“that’s it, come on.” he whispers still edging you on, hands twisted in your hair he watches you relax against him. teeth unclenching his shirt, your body practically exhales on him. your head hits the wall when he pulls out rushing to find toilet paper to clean you up.

“such a good girl.” he mumbles, the sandy paper gently brushes against your inner thighs. he helps you return back to your normal state, combing out any knots in your hair, both of you now leaving the restroom.

“wasn’t that fun?” he asks, you have a few more feet until you’re in front of your brothers and this talk couldn’t go on anymore. you just let out a dry laugh shaking your head.

“yeah if you didn’t have to take me so quickly.” you nudge his shoulder with your elbow. Pierre catches your eye, and he knows somethings different. you weren’t this happy nearly an hour ago when you arrived to the winery, and he’s not stupid when he sees the teeth marks in Arthur’s linen shirt.

“do I need to remind you that my sister is off limits to fuck with?”

“you’re a little too late, because I already did.”

No rules, in breakable heaven

It's a cruel summer

With you

[nanivinsmoke]

❥ 1000 Years Too Late

❥ heian!era sukuna x fem!reader

warnings: TRIGGERING & HEAVY spoils for the recent jjk chapter, if you don’t wanna be spoiled nor triggered, please don’t read.!

❥ trigger warnings & tags: mentions of death, suicidal thoughts & attempt, struggles with grief, reincarnation of sukuna’s deceased lover, unwanted pregnancy, depression, (sukuna inhabited a different body when he was with you) etc...

note: punishment for all my hunnibuns, since yall didn’t submit for the summer event. also i added a lil twist on the jjk plotline to fit this

it was over. they won, but you lost. lost the one thing that mattered to you.

you knew this was going to happen, but nobody can prepare you for death. how could they? especially for this one. they would judge you and shun you away from the academy, if they knew how you felt.

you watched as they rejoiced, reuniting and celebrating the end of sukuna, while you stood there sulking—trying so hard not to wallow in your sorrows.

he was the love of your life and now he is gone.

you stood at the spot where he died, trying so hard to feel his spirit or his energy, but there was nothing. he was truly gone. the two of you had fallen in love by accident, you couldn’t remember how it began, but you could remember how much the two of you loved each other. despite you both being on opposite sides, you couldn’t hate each other.

it was unfortunate how the world turned out for the two of you.

you entered your apartment and you immediately tensed up—immediately being hit with the cologne he used to wear. should you even be here? everything reminded you of him, the last plate in the sink that he used, the smell of the aftershave he used this morning, his crimson red slippers by the bed and his side of the bed that had grew cold.

you were alone, left alone once again. you lied down on his side of the bed, cuddling under the plush blanket, staring up at the ceiling—darkness clouding the room. ‘why’d you have to leave me? how am I supposed to move on?’ a tear trickled out of your eyes and then the flood gates opened.

you spent the whole night crying your eyes out, heart yearning for him once again.

the following days had gotten worse for you, you felt like you were decaying—mentally. you hadn’t left your place, ignoring the calls from your coworkers and your parents, you hadn’t showered, you had no motivation to nor have you eaten anything. his death took everything out of you, all you could do was drink. drink the pain away.

you sat in your bed tossing back the bottle of jack daniels that was sitting inside one of the kitchen’s cabinets. you had been drinking so much that the burn that accompanied the liquor had faded and it started to taste like juice. the vibrating sounds of your phone made you tense up, irritating you by the second while you ignored it; making you pick up—ready to drunkenly curse out the person on the other side.

that is until you heard their voice, the voice of your boyfriend's killer, the only one who knew of your relationship with the king of curses. yuuji itadori.

“hello? y/n–sensei?” you cringed, swallowing back your anger as you answered him back.

“hello yuuji, what’s up?” there was a pause on the other end and you took the opportunity to take another swig of the dark beverage.

“we haven’t seen you in a while….i just wanted to see how you were doing….” you had to stop yourself from chuckling, swallowing more and more of the bronze drink.

“im fine. is that all?” your words came out harsher than you intended, but that would’ve been a problem if you were in the right state of mind. “i'm not buying that. im coming to check on you, sensei. I’ll be there soon.” he said, hanging up on you—making you curse in frustration. you threw the bottle at the nearby wall, the glass shattering into a thousand tiny pieces and staining it with its contents.

you knew you shouldn’t be mad at him, he was a kid after all—being pulled into this mess, having to deal with everything as well. but, you didn’t know what else to do? who else to blame?

you got up from your bed, sulking on the way to the bathroom; stripping off your clothes and stepping to into the shower—turning on the water to boiling hot; the water burning away your thoughts. this was the only time you hadn’t thought about sukuna, the shower freed your mind. all you could think about was the pleasing feeling of the scalding water piercing your thoughts.

after a good ten minutes in the shower, you got out and put on something comfortable, waiting for the teen to come to your place. and a few more minutes, he was there, staring at you—like he could see right through you. “you miss him, don’t you?” the pink haired boy spoke, not wasting anytime. you looked at him and chuckled, before going into your favorite cabinet; the liquor cabinet. opening the strong bottle of vodka, you quick downed some; ignoring yuuji.

“before i killed him—,” he paused, seeing the look on your face after he said that before continued, ignoring your eyes. “he told me to go to this place, must’ve been his castle years ago, and told me to find this crate with your name on it.” he went out into the hallway and grabbed the crate, bringing it in to show you. it was filled with a bunch of letters, all signed to you.

“i never read any of them, y/n–sensei, i figured it was something special for you. help you get closure.”

“closure?” you stifled a laugh, raising any eyebrow at the boy. you burped, picking up the bottle of alcohol and shoving some more of its liquid down your throat. he could see that you were drunk, but you were also hurting.

“how the hell would you know what i need? hm?”

“because it’s not good to carry everything on your shoulders. trust me i know.” he put his hand onto of yours, eyes holding sincerity, but you couldn’t see that; heart wouldnt let you. you pulled away from him and stood a few feet back—face contorted into a scowl. “you should go.” yuuji opened his mouth to protest, but he knew shouldn’t. instead, he turned on his heels and head for the door, before saying one last thing.

“sensei, if you ever need help, im one call away.”

you avoided those letters like the plague. walking past them each time you went to retrieve a new bottle of your liquid medicine. you didn’t have the strength to, you feared that it might push you over the edge.

sukuna was on your mind heavily as you sat on the couch, flipping through the channels on the television—with a bottle in the other hand. you decided on a channel, a romantic movie playing on the big screen. you laughed in disgust at the main character, so helplessly in love—stupidly in love. you cringed when the character experienced her first heart break, rolling your tired eyes at her dramatics, that is until she received a letter. a letter from her lover.

it was like you were watching a movie about yourself. like someone was controlling you life in a way. you looked at the letter’s sitting on the island before looking back at the tv, before you got up and went over to the crate. You swallowed thickly and rummaged through them, pulling out one that had caught your eye. you ran your hand over the black ink, his handwriting thick and neat, envelope smelling just like him.

carefully tearing it open, you stared at the contents, finding a seat at the island.

‘ a thousand years ago, i ruled the world. i was nefarious, everyone bowed down to me—they respected me. i was king and then there was you, my queen. ’ you paused, taking a minute to process what the hell he was talking about. you took another swig from your personal mini bar before looking at the letter once more.

‘ i know you’re confused, i can see your face scrunching up in my mind. cute. ’ you giggled, heart swelling at you imagining him, imagining you.

‘ you were born a thousand years ago. you were everything i was not. you completed me, even though you were just a human, you made me feel more than just a curse. you made me, me. ’ your lips were trembling and you had to bite them to stop yourself from crying. he always had a way with words.

‘ you were fearsome, a little cruel at times (my kind of lady), but you were respected. however, some people didn’t feel the same and they had it out for you. you were cursed, one that would ultimately end up taking your life. after a passionate night of love making between you and i, we shared a kiss and that was the last one we ever shared. you died in my arms that night ’

plip. plip. plip.

your tears stained the letter, heart breaking into a thousand pieces. you knew that he was crying as he wrote this letter, words smudged where he was writing—that was rare for him. he was heartbroken just like you were.

' I watched the light go out of your eyes. i had to bury you. i was filled with emotions, one that i know a bit too well. rage. i killed everything and everyone in sight, trying to find a way to get you back…..it took me forever to find one. until, i met you again. the day that I saw you, i knew i had to keep you safe. you were fighting against me and i had to act like i didn’t know you, it was all part of my plan. i fell for you ten times harder and you slowly did as well. however, i found out that the curse reincarnated with you and how to break it. ’

you sipped the last of the burning booze, wiping your eyes that continuously watered with sadness. you pinched the letter, no longer wanting to read the rest of the letter, but you knew you had to. you had to know why, why the love of your life had to die.

‘ i found out the way to break it about a week ago and by the time you’re reading this, im probably already gone. the only way to break this curse was for me to die and i didn’t, you would die and be reincarnated over and over again if you continued to fall in love me. i couldn’t do it, I couldn’t see you die another thousand years later. i couldn’t lose you. so im doing what i gotta do. im sorry. ’

oh. the paper got wet.

the black ink smudged with your rainfall of tears. you couldn’t stop, your heart aching, breaking into a thousand pieces. why did the universe hate you? what did you ever do to deserve this? why did you have to live?

the bottle of bacardi fell to the floor, as you stumbled getting up—vision blurred with your sadness. you stepped on the clear shards, pricking your feet as you walked, not caring about the stinging sensation coursing through them. you staggered towards the bathroom, gripping the sink’s cool porcelain, & opening the medicine cabinet that lied behind the mirror. you picked up a random pill bottle, whipping the cap off and pouring a small handful into your mouth.

swallowing it with the help of the water from the sink’s faucet, you slid down to the tiled floor—sitting there until the drugs took full affect.

your eyes were getting weaker and weaker by the second, heart beating crazily in your chest and all you could do was lay back and smile. you were finally at peace, ready to be reunited with your love. until you felt a buzzing in your pants pocket. you weakly reached in and pulled out your phone, seeing the missed notification from itadori. oh. you smiled and opened the device, going to your text messages and pushing the little microphone icon.

“goodbye, yuuji.”

the effects of the pills consumed your body, putting you in a comatose state—a white light taking over your mind.

the sounds of medical machinery caused you to stir, eyes lids heavy as you tried to open them. the brightness of the lights above you, made you cringe, until you relaxed and was able to open them completely—taking around your surroundings. you were in fact, still alive.

you noticed there was tube inside of you mouth and you started to panic, that is until who hand came over and unplugged it for you, allowing you to gasp for air. “you’re lucky to be alive, y/n. thank yuuji for that.” shoko’s raspy voice rang in your ears and you met her eyes, tears welling in them.

“and did you know that you’re pregnant?” shoko asked and your eyes widened, there was no fucking way. after all that drinking you did, how can something like that survive in you?

almost like she could hear your thoughts, the brown haired woman spoke once more, “there seems to be some cursed energy in there. i don’t want to or need to know how, but i do need to know what do you plan on doing with it?” your mind was running a million miles per minute, a kid? a fucking fetus? you couldn’t, you couldn’t raise it—not now, not ever. not until you got help.

just as you were about to respond, there was a knock on your door and in came the pink haired teen. he smiled and looked at shoko, whom nodded her head and exited the room—leaving you two to have a mini staring contest. until, he decided to speak first, “I’ve got your text last night…I nearly raced over there—scooping you up and bringing you over here, auntie.” the name he called you made you raise an eyebrow.

“i went back to get a few things for you and I found the letter. it’s not your fault, you couldn’t control the past more can you control the future. it’s not his fault either. my uncle did what anyone would do in his situation, he might’ve dragged it a couple of times, but he lost the love of his life.” yuuji said with a little eye roll, causing you to chuckle.

“i know about your situation too…whatever you decide, im here every step of the way. you don’t need to do this on your own. he broke the curse so you could live, so live. “

you took those words to heart as you laid in the hospital bed, recovering. there was no doubt that you missed him and needed ryomen—but you know that dying now would make his death a waste. he died so you wouldn’t have to suffer, he was man; a cursed man yes—but he was the bravest man ever and you would forever love him.

“i got the last bag yuuji! tell fushiguro to help you with that one!” you shouted to the pink haired boy, grabbing the last bag from your empty apartment. you had recovered fully in shoko’s care a few weeks ago, you also signed up for therapy—to help you understand your feelings and better your mental health. you decided on getting rid of the unborn fetus, you were in no shape to carry such a thing. you weren’t strong enough and you knew sukuna would understand.

you sighed, looking around once more, taking in the memories before you moved to your new place. however, just as you were about to go, a white envelope caught your eye. you thought you shredded them all, but it seems that one was forgotten. setting down the bag of clothes, you leaned against the island and quickly opened it—heart thumping in anticipation.

‘ my love for you will never die. don’t fret my queen, ive might’ve been a thousand years too late, but i will forever love you a thousand years more. until we meet again. — ryomen . ’

you smiled, tears pouring out of your eyes while you kissed the letter, before bringing it over to the stove and lighting it on fire; burning it to a nice crisp.

that was the end of your story, but the beginning of a new one. take care, sukuna. and see you in hell.

[sitp-recs]

My AO3 Wrapped: Drarry Recs

This year I’ve embraced a change of pace and read way less than I intended to. This made me feel a bit disconnected from fandom but also allowed me to put this list together in record time so let’s not complain too much 😂 this is shorter and lacking my usual commentary but I didn’t want to break the tradition of sharing my fave reads of the year! Be it for their creativity or peak romance, these 16 amazing fics made my heart beat faster and got me even more in love with Drarry. I’ve read most of them in the first half of the year and it was interesting to see so many fics over 40k, as my usual sweet spot is 10k - 20k. I love the mix of tropes featured here and am very excited to rec authors I’m reading for the first time. ps: I haven’t included any Erised fics since the fest is still ongoing.

Thank you dear creators for sharing so many brilliant works with us this year! 2023 wasn’t my best year fandom-wise, but life has been so generous in other areas that I can’t help but feel humbled today. I wish everyone a lovely start to the new year! As always, please mind the tags and take some time to shower these authors with the appreciation they deserve. Oh, and stay tuned for a rare pair list sometime soon ;)

🍆 Snug by @moonflower-rose (E, 6k)

8th year | touch-starved Harry | soft cock kink

Potter can't keep his hands off himself. Draco can't look away.

🧩 Muscle Memory by @corvuscrowned (E, 8k)

curse breaking | partners to lovers | memory magic

There's something just beneath the surface, just at the periphery of Harry's mind. They've been here before — they've done this before. If only he could remember it.

👹 draco malfoy's substitute murder service by @oknowkiss (E, 10k)

odd jobs | D/s undertones | open ending

When Harry joins the Curse Breakers shortly after his twenty-fifth birthday, he’s surprised to find himself assigned to the Department of Creatures, Cryptids, and Associated Calamities.

🏰 the earth from a distance by spqr (E, 15k)

time travel | Wizarding history | only one bed

“Well,” Harry said gamely, once they’d managed to find the Leaky Cauldron – still under construction but mercifully open for business – and he’d turned up a few knuts from his pockets, enough to get them a room for the night, “it could be worse.”

🎚️ O Come, All Ye Faithful by @toomuchplor (E, 20k)

vicar Draco | established relationship | Church of England

Aunt Petunia died, that was what began everything. Or rather, Aunt Petunia was dying. In the act of dying. In which Draco finds faith in the church, and Harry finds faith in Draco.

🎄 Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w and @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (E, 22k)

shop owner Draco | summer romance | light angst

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July / Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why / There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more / Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore / Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss / And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

🚬 Sun Thief by @floydig and BlackRose532 (E, 28k)

slice of life | fast sexual burn | dark humour

It’s 2005, and Draco Malfoy says, “Fuck the Ministry,” Harry works as a handyman in muggle London, and Draco should really stop pissing off the Squib gangs.

🍷 Winner Takes It All by @skeptiquewrites (E, 41k)

break up make up | down & out Draco | hurt/comfort

As with all his friends’ wagers, it starts small. Fifty Galleons for one kiss from Harry Potter is easily done.

🏖️ LA, Who Am I To Love You? by @epitomereally (E, 42k)

Draco in the Muggle World | pining Harry | recreational drug use

Harry’s summer in LA is not going as expected. Pansy Parkinson keeps inviting him to parties in the Hollywood Hills and harassing him to finally go to the physical therapist, Blaise Zabini keeps slipping new strains of his company’s magical weed into Harry’s pockets in hopes of an endorsement, and Draco Malfoy keeps having sex with everyone but Harry.

🫃Shine On, You Crazy Diamond by @lagerloutfic (E, 42k)

fwb to lovers | gay awakening (Harry) | mpreg (Draco)

Harry has probably always wanted Draco, it just took him a few years to figure that out. A story about the joy of discovering exactly who you are and how easy it can be once you do.

🚣‍♀️ Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses (E, 46k)

rowing AU | enemies to lovers | university setting

Harry Potter, returning member of the Oxford University Boat Club, has two goals for the spring of 2005: beat Cambridge, and beat Draco Malfoy. Perhaps not in that order.

🧶 Polar Night/Midnight Sun by @toomuchplor (E, 54k)

cabin fic | wintery vibes | only one bed

Harry travels to arctic Norway on the trail of dragon egg poachers, only to find he's been assigned to work alongside the only NorMagPol Auror north of sixty: one Draco Malfoy.

🎩 Nights With You by @the-sinking-ship (E, 58k)

holiday fic | fake relationship | mutual pining

Draco is mortified when moments prior to departing for the most anticipated destination wedding of the year, he is cruelly dumped. But when he learns that Harry Potter has, at long last, split with his horrible boyfriend, Draco is certain his luck has changed.

👮🏻‍♂️Rookie Moves + Again And More So by peu_a_peu (E, 75k)

auror partners | slow burn | humour

Aurors Potter and Malfoy crack the case.

🖼️ where all the veins meet by @saxamophone (E, 146k)

sad bois | Grimmauld Place | found family | 8th year

It's the summer of 1998. The battle is over, and Voldemort is dead, but Harry still has more questions than answers. Who is he without a piece of Voldemort's soul in his head? What is he supposed to do now?

📼 Always Already by @aibidil (E, 170k)

time travel | forced proximity | mutual pining

Harry and Draco are perfectly fine, separately minding their business in 2004, when the Unspeakables conscript them into service... in the First War against Voldemort.

[aithusarosekiller]

Trans Reggie black brothers fic:

NOT EDITED (will be before it goes onto ao3)

Words: 2239

Warnings: outing (sort of, Sirius figures it out and asks him about it but nobody is told against reg's will), reference to bigoted parents

-

The light twittering of birds was silenced as Regulus strode across his room and pulled the window shut with a slight thud. If he wanted to get any work done before he was due to return to school he would have to do it now, or he would put it off until the last minute. It was a bad habit picked up from Dorcas but one he had come to keep under control for the most part. So long as nothing else disrupted him, he should be okay to continue. His parents were at some important function and Kreacher was out collecting shopping so there wasn't too much that could distract him.

He had managed to sit down at his desk and unscrew the lid of his inkwell by the time his bedroom door slammed open behind him. He heard the unmistakable sound of his brother's heavy-footed stomps come up behind him and had to force himself not to snap right then and there.

“Yes?” His tone was clipped but Sirius either didn't notice or actively chose to ignore it.

“Are you busy?” Without waiting for an answer he attempted to sit down on Regulus’ desk, only stopping when he received a murderous glare and shark smack to the arm; he narrowed his eyes petulantly and tried to hide his irritating grin. “Move and I'll sit in your chair then, my legs are tired.”

Regulus pretended to have not heard him and returned to the introduction of his Defense essay. After a few moments Sirius stood and walked over to the bed, sitting down silently and waiting for a few minutes to see if Regulus was going to say anything. Nothing happened.

“Turn around, you little brat.” Nothing. “Please.”

“Don't call me that,” The reply was quiet but Sirius still heard it.”

“Merlin, I try to be nice once,” He grumbled under his breath, trying to keep his composure and her to the point. “I want to talk to you about something.”

Regulus looked at him as if to say ‘go on’ so he did.

“Look, can you just come here? I'm trying to be nice to you and do sibling bonding or some shit so the least you can do one nice thing and not stare at me from across the room? I'll distract Father so you can visit your friends on Sunday if you let me have this.” He let the suggestion sink in for a moment, then watched as Regulus pushed away from his desk, stretching out the time it took to close the ink and place down the quill, then made his way over to his bed to sit at the opposite end to Sirius, his posture perfect and his hands clasped in his lap.

“Posho.”

“Sorry, do you or do you not have a pair of 35 galleon shoes in your wardrobe as we speak?”

“First of all, I got them in muggle London so technically they were £170, not galleons. And secondly, that is a very good price for a well-made, hand crafted, long-lasting product you intend to use frequently.”

Regulus couldn't help but laugh at that. “You sound like Narcissa.”

He didn't stop laughing when he was slapped on the arm or when Sirius snapped at him to shut up, it was only when Sirius attempted to redirect the conversation that his face fell back to his typical moody stare.

“I wanted to talk about school.” He managed to ignore Regulus’ sigh, having grown fairly immune to the constant dismissals by now, even if it still made him feel a little hurt when he thought about it late at night. “Over the summer term and a little bit before that, I've heard-”

“Oh for Salazar’s sake, if this is going to become one of your anti-Slytherin, ‘you're all evil' rants, I really want nothing to do with-”

“It isn't that!” He hissed, almost laughing at Regulus’ affronted reaction to being cut off halfway through his sentence as if he had not just done the exact same thing mere seconds ago. “Stop coming for my throat and give me a change to finish my sentence before you assume you know what I'm going to say.” He took a deep breath and started again. “I have recently been hearing your friends talk to you while you're in the corridor and then again while they're alone. And I noticed a few things.”

It was then that Regulus finally picked up on what the conversation was going to be about.

“Oh, for-”

“Shush, let me finish. I heard you and your friends talking quite a few times and I heard that they called you a different name.” He looked at Regulus knowingly. “You might disagree but I'm not stupid. I mean my grades speak for themselves really, I don't think I did any revision before the day of for my exams and I still…anyway. Your friends were calling you Regulus and they were calling you he and I'm no idiot. I know what that means.”

“You understand names, well done. Maybe you aren't a complete imbecile after all.”

“Alright, you're being rude because you're nervous so I'll let that slide. I know that it means you don't want to be a girl anymore. And that's great! That's okay. I just wanted to give you the chance to talk about it. With me. If you want.”

Regulus looked at him blankly for a while. He opened his mouth to speak at least four times before closing it. Eventually he picked up the courage to actually say something.

“I'm not a girl.” Sirius nodded along. “Your eavesdropping was right there.” Sirius frowned in disapproval but did not get the chance to interject. “I am a boy. My name is Regulus. Yes, like the star. My friends are okay with it because they aren't completely despicable people despite what you Gryffindors may like to think. And you didn't have to interrupt my homework to talk to me about this, you haven't spoken to me besides polite greetings since November.”

“Actually, it was your birthday.”

“December, then. My point still stands, Sirius.”

“Is it rude to ask when you knew?”

“A little bit, yes.” Regulus snapped. “I didn't always know.” He seems to consider telling the story for a second, then decided not to. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” Sirius nodded. Maybe if the rest of the conversation went well he would tell him another time. “It's a nice name. Bit long but not bad.”

“Thank you.” It was robotic and almost cold but Sirius was not deterred.

“I might shorten it to Regs. I've heard your annoying friend call you Reggie but you'd probably kill me if I called you that to Regs it is. It's short, efficient, and probably won't get my ears cut off and fed to Kreacher.” Regulus couldn't help a smile like that, which seemed to get Sirius out of his tentative, unnaturally calculated state and make him grin himself. “I'll take that as a yes.”

“Sure.”

“I have a brother,” He mused to himself. Whether it was with shock or glee neither of them could say.

“You can't tell anybody.”

“I won't! I'm great with secrets. Really, name one secret I haven't been able to keep.” He took in Regulus’ meaningful look and recalculated. “Yeah, alright, but I won't tell anyone this. I promise.” He attempted to look as sincere as possible. When he looked down at the sight of movement, he saw that his brother’s hand was extended, palm up and waiting.

Sirius couldn't help but smile when he was it, moving his own hand to place on top before taping each of their fingers together as he muttered the words 'I swear on my life’. It was a silly way of making a promise that Andromeda had taught them when they were younger and caught her writing to her muggleborn boyfriend. They knew not that she had just made it up to get them to stay hushed but they had never really grown out of it. Without a word, they both retracted their hands, but Sirius was now smiling and Regulus seemed at least somewhat more relaxed so it was worth it even if it was a kids thing.

“I just wanted to say that I am glad you were honest with me,” Sirius began the little speech he had prepared in his head. He had gone over it time and time again, attempting to eradicate any signs of his usual self to form a kind, welcoming speech that would soften the situation. “And I am glad that you have been able to find yourself like this.” Regulus groaned into his hands and swore under his breath. “I am here if you want to talk about…this and I would be really happy if you trusted me to talk about you being….a guy now.”

“Oh Merlin, this is humiliating. Stop. Stop. Sirius, stop.” He waited for him to trail off awkwardly before letting out a relieved sigh and beginning his own explanation.

“Okay; thank you but I really don't need a lecture on my ‘validity’. I am aware of it. And I didn't not tell you because I was scared, it was because we haven't spoken properly in months and I doubted that you'd even care. It would be weird, that's why.” He grasped around for another point to make while he had the silence to be able to get a word in. “And don't you think I should have been able to tell you this in my own time instead of just barging in and asking me about it.”

“When would that have been?” He wasn't expecting an apology, but the bluntness of the reply still caught Regulus off guard. “Would you have told me? Would you really? Hm?” He got no answer. “Reggie.”

“The point is that I should've gotten the choice.”

“Well I admit I didn't think it through that much!”

“That's new.” Regulus drawled.

“I was just shocked when you didn't tell me. I was shocked that they knew basic crap about you that I apparently don't. Call me selfish but I care quite a lot about that. You used to tell me everything.” The anger in his voice was barely-veiled. “We used to be best friends but I feel like I don't know anything shoot you anymore.”

“And who's fault is that?”

“Yours! You are the one who got all those amazing Slytherin friends and decided I was the shit on your damn shoe, Regulus.”

“I don't want to do this right now.”

They fell back into relative silence. The sound of the wind against the old, thin window was all they could focus on for a few minutes. Eventually, siris cleared his throat and reached out his hand, patting his brother on the shoulder a few times like he was a delicate animal.

“What are you doing?”

Sirius blinked. “I'm comforting you.”

“Don't do that.”

“Fine, I won't.” He looked away again and waited.

“I can tell you want to ask something else.”

Sirius shrugged noncommittally, then gave in and asked what he had wanted to know the entire time. “Who else knows?” The hint of desperation in his voice was embarrassing but he hoped Regulus hadn't picked up on it.

“My friends,” He provided. “That's all really."

“And…” He didn't need to say it for the implication to be obvious. They both looked towards the doorway despite knowing the house was empty, as if anticipating their arrival. Regulus slouched slightly, seemingly having given up on acting properly.

“Do you think I'd still be here telling you about it if they knew?”

“Don't say that.” Whispering was uncharacteristic for Sirius but he didn't exactly want to say the words that left his mouth, they just sort of did. Giving away the card he held for his brother's wellbeing even after all this time.

“It’s not exactly a shock, is it? The perfect angel of the black family ends up being a man with a woman’s features, guess what happens next.”

“Regulus, stop.”

“...Sorry.” The apology sounded almost forced out but it was better than none at all in Sirius' opinion.

Sirius shook his head lightly. “It's fine. It's not like it's your fault. Hey, uh, if you wanted to, we could go shopping together at some point. Get you some stuff that makes you feel less, y'know.” ‘Girly’ was the obvious end to that sentence. Regulus frowned and turned to face him again.

“I can go shopping with my friends, thank you.” Sirius waited. And waited. Then, “When would you want to go?”

“Why, do you can be conveniently busy that day?” He suggested; Regulus stared silently. “Next Saturday?”

“Okay.”

“Yeah, good, alright. Cool. You're paying for your shit though.” He added as an afterthought.

“What? Why one earth to would you invite me shopping if you're not paying for anything?”

“I'm not your Mum Reggie.”

“You're uglier than her, that's for sure.”

Taking it as the natural lull to the conversation, Sirius pulled a face and turned to leave, spinning back around one step out of the door so he could confirm their agreement.

“Next Saturday, yes?”

“Yes, that is what I said.”

With that Sirius nodded silently and left, leaving the door wide open and Regulus sat on the bed wondering where in the name all of that had come from.

[coffeeghoulie]

dottie ive come to ask for either zephyr/aether or rain/dew soft snuggly/lovey/makeout-y hours please :3

I've never written Zephyr before, but there's a first time for everything lol. Hope you enjoy <3

(divider by @wrathofrats)

It's a quiet summer afternoon, not too hot yet that Aether can still keep his window open comfortably. He listens to the junebugs sing and the breeze whisper through the forest surrounding the Abbey.

He sits in his big wingback chair in the corner, round glasses on the bridge of his nose and a book in his hand, the spine well creased from years of loving use. There are no duties or obligations barring an emergency in the infirmary. Aether intends to relax and make good use of the quiet, warm sunlight filtering into his room.

Aether's able to sense their presence approaching long before he hears the steady tap of Zephyr's cane against the marble floors. He straightens in his chair, pushing his glasses up his nose and taking note of what page he's on.

The door's already cracked open for a little airflow, but Zephyr pushes it open, slender pianist's fingers wrapped around the handle of their cane. Their soft grey eyes flit around Aether's bedroom, expression warming when they land on Aether in the back corner.

"Hey, feather," Aether hums, setting his book on the windowsill as he stands to greet them. He starts after a moment, nearly ripping his readers off of his face to tuck them into his pocket.

They cock their head owlishly, smiling at the quintessence ghoul. Their white braid falls off of their shoulder with the motion. "Aether," they say, a bite of laughter seeping into their easy drawl. "I know you need glasses, you don't have to take them off for lil ol' me."

He shakes his head with a playful roll of his eyes, the dimples forming in his cheeks giving him away. "Oh, come on, Zeph. What can I do for you?"

"Who said I needed anything from you?" Zephyr teases, but they take a deep breath, the loose hairs and downy feathers along their hairline fluttering in a near-imperceptible breeze. "Omega's busy with a few patients, might I bother you for a little quint and company?"

"Never a bother," Aether shakes his head, taking a few steps towards the air ghoul. "I will drop everything if you need something, Zeph, and that is a promise."

"What a romantic," Zephyr teases, smiling wide enough to show the gap between his front teeth. They've done this song and dance before; they sit down on the end of Aether's bed, groaning softly as they tug off their shoes after propping their cane up against his nightstand. "If it were truly an emergency, I would have made that known far earlier, my constellation."

Aether sits next to them, just close enough that they can feel the body heat radiating from his broad thigh. He chuffs, big hand settling softly on the small of their back. "Same spots this time?" he asks, doing his best to keep his tone strictly casual, but the infirmary-clinical creeps in all the same.

"Back, hips, knuckles, wrists, the usual," Zephyr says, white lashes fanning out over soft cheeks as their eyes close. They lean subtly back into Aether's touch. "Overdid it playing for Mass this morning and the vessel's making itself known."

"Mhm," Aether hums in sympathy, nose crinkling. The first gentle pulse of magick makes them relax visibly, wisps of hair falling around their face as their head tilts forward. "Alright, should we get more comfortable before you aggravate those joints more, feather?"

They laugh, icy blue eyes just vaguely tinged with violet quintessence. "You just want to cuddle, you big ghoul."

"Aw, you caught me, Zeph," Aether teases as the two of them rearrange themselves more securely on Aether's bed. From the open curtains, a sunbeam sprawls out over the blankets, pleasantly warm, illuminating the dust motes in the air. Aether lays down on his back, legs splayed out lazily over the covers. His arms are open as Zephyr situates themself on top of him, careful of their horns as they rest their head on his collarbone, the two of them chest to chest.

Zephyr sighs, a little exhale as they get comfortable, and Aether settles his hand in the small of their back again. Quintessence seeps between them, and Aether can almost taste Zephyr's contentedness, apple blossoms on a late spring day. He chuffs, focusing the quintessence into their joints, and a relieved purr radiates through their body.

They shift, pressing a smattering of kisses to Aether's jaw. He can feel their long eyelashes brush against his cheek, feather-light, and tilts his head to catch their lips with his own. There's no heat in it, just a sweet peck with the tiniest of spark between them.

When they pull away, Zephyr's eyes slowly open, a little more lavender than they were a few moments before. "Did you- Did you just quint me with a kiss, you sap? I don't think that's professional bedside behavior."

Aether chuckles, made lazy with the warmth and the contact. His gold fang flashes in the sunlight. "For precise quintessence application, all I need is a touch," he says, rubbing his cheek softly against Zephyr's.

"Dork," they laugh, the feathered tip of their tail padding on the mattress until it finds Aether's, curling around it like one of the vines in Mountain's greenhouse trellises.

"Your dork," he shoots back, stealing another kiss as they settle, kneading at his chest like a cat as they get comfortable.

"Yes, mine," they hum, voice slow and almost sticky as the pain relief and magick soak into their system. "Thank you for this, Aether."

"It's my pleasure," he whispers, lips brushing against the soft feathers that line the shell of their ear. The feathers twitch under the touch, and he wraps his arms around the small of their back as they coo, almost sounding like one of the doves who nest in the high chapel windows.

The junebugs sing, air pleasantly warm, and the two of them sink into an impromptu nap, curled up in each other.

[mykoreanlove]

mislead in a cap

You stood on the balcony overlooking the neon city lights while Hoseok was standing behind you, silently smoking his third cigarette. Neither of you said a word but it was evident that a lot was lingering on his mind. You felt the cold summer breeze on your naked skin, shivering lightly. 

Hoseok flipped the cigarette aside and hugged you from behind, sharing his body warmth with you.

„Why do you still keep seeing me, y/n?“, he muttered softly.

There it was. The question that had been lingering in the back of his mind for a very long time. He was right to ask as there was no plausible reason for you to keep doing that. Doing him.

„I guess I kind of like it“, you mumbled truthfully. 

The grip around your waist got harder as he was leaning into you more.

„But you do remember our conversation from the first time?“

You sighed heavily, still remembering every word from that night. You had moved to Seoul for a fresh start, a fresh beginning in life, love and moreover in yourself. It didn’t take long for you to meet Hoseok as you had a mutual friend but you never had predicted the outcome of your serendipitous meeting. Shy glances turned into passionate gazes accompanied by coy kisses that turned into lustful sex. He wasn’t your typical type but you felt a pull towards him like never before. 

Your first real date, or rather spontaneous hook up, ended in your apartment drinking and getting to really know each other. He never intended to spill all of his secrets but the booze loosened his tongue just as much as your safe energy ripped up his shields. 

„I got cheated on three times, actually.“, he confessed out of the blue. „The last time was the hardest. We were together for almost a year and I planned on marrying her but you know, she had other plans.“ 

Hoseok’s eyes, usually shimmering with positive energy, suddenly turned dull. 

„Do you want to know how I figured it out? She moaned another guy’s name in bed. That’s how I figured it out.“, he explained flatly.

You threw your arms around him, hugging him as tightly as you could. All you could feel was empathy and sorrow - how could someone do that? 

„It’s okay, y/n. It is what it is.“

„It’s not okay. It really isn’t“, you protested.

„That’s just how my life is. It’s shit.“

His eyes got even gloomier, making you shudder with heartbreak.

„No really, just ask around. The others already know. My life is a piece of shit.“ 

Hoseok pained but fascinated you at the same time. 

„I wondered why that happened, you know. I wondered if I was too outgoing, if I should have been stricter with her. As soon as I left town she cheated on me. So, that’s what I figured. Relationships just don’t work if someone is away for a while and since I’m traveling often, relationships are just not for me.“ 

There it was, the ugly monster that was roaring its head. Hoseok sounded just like you when you got your heart broken by the last guy who dumped you as soon as you got out of town. You were too taken aback by this coincidence to really understand what he was implying though.

Instead, you felt an even stronger pull towards him, one that would bring you to your knees often. Slow, sad kisses turned to more and before you knew it he was inside of you, fucking the sadness away. Loving him like that was risky, for your body and heart but you didn’t care. Hoseok triggered another side within you, one that was reckless and risky.

„Why do you like me?“, he asked while placing soft kisses on your temples.

„This is going to sound so cheesy but uhm….I like you because you feel like sunshine.“, you confessed. 

A small giggle escaped his lips before the mood changed for the inevitable.

„You need to find someone else, y/n. Someone who’s decent.“

You held in your breath, not knowing how to respond.

„You remember what I told you? I’ll be leaving town soon for two weeks, so because of that nothing more, nothing serious could ever happen between us.“

Remembering it brought up the pain you felt back then, still after weeks of seeing him. 

He told you to stay away, yet both of you couldn’t resist the other. Endless nights spent under the sheets turned into your little secret.

„I do remember.“

„Then why do you do it? Why are you wasting your time with me?“

You turned around and faced him, brushing a strand of hair out of his face.

„I can’t leave you alone because I see myself in you, Hoseok.“

He frowned in response, not really getting your point.

„How so?“

„We’re both very similar if you think about it. Both of us have been hurt in love which is why we tend to be attracted to people that are unavailable, we’re not even risking getting our heart broken. At least not that much, so it would really hurt. But there’s more than meets the eye.“, you explained softly.

„More?“, he asked curiously.

„Yeah.“, you nodded. „Remember what I said when you asked me why I liked you?“

„Cause I feel like sunshine..“, he muttered under his breath.

„Exactly. You have this radiating aura, full of good vibes and positivity. But that’s all just an act. If you look closely enough, you’ll notice that you’re broken and sad. Hurt and disappointed. All that sunshine persona is just a facade. Just something to cover up how you really feel on the inside.“

Hoseok’s eyes started to glisten instantly, he let go of you and turned around.

He felt caught, suffocated even. All these years he was cautious enough to not let someone see beyond the surface, yet you caught on instantly. 

„I am right, aren’t I?“, you asked cautiously. 

He looked over his shoulder, staring directly at you while tears were streaming down his cheeks. 

„Let’s end this, y/n. Once and for all.“ 

[indecenthoney]

Five more minutes...

----------------------------------------------

Don't you fucking hate it when someone wakes you up on your day off? The one time. One time you get to finally sleep in and throw all the worries of the world into the trash. Just for someone to ruin it. I mean I understand having to wake up because of an emergency or a meeting. But to be woken up, so I don't sleep the day away? Bullshit. It's the fucking summer. Can't I get-

"Five more minutes... Pleassssse... Ugh... I know... I know it's way past afternoon... I intended on sleeping in, on purpose... Listen... I've been working my ass off at college and my crappy ass job for monthsss... Now that I'm finally back home... I think I deserve a little more shut-eye... Now... Get out of my room... or you're going to regret it..."

After some deliberation, I finally decided to head home during the summer. It definitely beats working my life away and going straight back into classes. I couldn't fathom taking another year of torture. Not to mention, I would finally be able to eat some home-cooked meals, catch up with friends, and possibly hit up a few bars. If I'm lucky, I might even be able to hook up with someone during my stay. Although, I forgot to factor in one teeny tiny detail. The sole reason I ever left in the first place. The demon that resided in my neighborhood now pestering me over a couple minutes in bed. That demon, or well childhood friend of mine had always topped me in every single thing I had ever done. At some point, you can get sick of always being compared to. Now that I'm back in town, she has nothing better to do than to dote on me. Constantly breathing down my neck over every single thing that I do. I'm starting to think she gets some kind of sick kick from parading me around like some sort of dog.

"Ughhhhh... Shut upppppppp... Don't you have anything better to do? It's been years... Get a boyfriend or something... Like... what're you hanging around here for? My mom asked you to... What? Dude... Okay, listen... We're adults now... You don't have to listen to every request they make... My mom only keeps you around hoping we finally get along again... Year after year she has tried to get us to reconnect... And we both know it's not going to happen... No... There are no buts in this situation... Just let it go... You don't have to kiss my parent's ass just to prove you're better than me... They know that... I know that... and you know that... You always joined all the clubs I was in to prove a point... I gain literally nothing from being with you... You're better than me... I get it... Happy? Now leave... Good night..."

Looking back at it, I was ashamed to act so out of character. I guess it really got to me after seeing her face after so long. The breaking point was when she had the audacity to try and pull the blankets off of me. Blinded by anger, I pulled and wrestled her onto my bed. The both of us flailing around without a word. After some time, I was able to completely pin her down. Her shirt disheveled and raised high enough to see her breasts. The blankets draped over us like a fort we had once made as kids. Our exhausted breaths heating the enclosed space around us. My morning wood placed atop her short shorts twitching eagerly along her.

"Well... I'll let you go as soon as you stop flipping out... Yeah yeah... You're still as annoying as ever... Huh? Excuse me... I'm the one that should be pissed... Bothering me so early in the damn morning... What are you freaking about now? What? It's just morning wood... It happens... Fucking perv... Yeah, you... Why're you staring so much...? Hahahah... You think this is because of you? You give yourself too much credit... You could never turn me on... Then again... It's been quite a while since I had any action... And hole is a hole... Right? Aw... Don't wanna? But you promised to take care of me... No? And what're you gonna do about it? Push me off with those frail arms? Sure you can beat me in everything else but at the end of the day... I'm still bigger than you..."

The tip of my cock pitched a tent so effortlessly. Every whimper or sign of resistance urged me to tease her even further. And in turn, the silence grew louder knowing she had no other choice but to take it. It was supposed to be a little scare. Or so I thought. But seeing that she was finally put in her place brought out a different side of me. To top it all off, the overwhelming sensation brought upon the back of my head grinding against her needy cunt was just insatiable. Poking my tip against her opening only for pieces of cloth to divide me from theoretical heaven. It drove me crazy. Even if it was her. Even if she did annoy the living fuck out of me, I couldn't quite help myself. I would be lying if I didn't find her the least bit attractive.

"Hey now... Hush... Any louder and they'll hear us... What would my family think if they found you moaning like an absolute slut? Aww... And what're you gonna do about it? Tell? Thanks to you... I honestly have nothing to lose... They already see me as a failure... What's one more fuck up? Stop? Why? Is Little Miss Perfect getting wet? No? Then why don't we take these off? And have ourselves a little look... Not wet? Really? You promise? Then you have nothing to hide, do you? Well... A little too late for that... I'm not going to take the word of a liar... You heard me... Lying to my face... Right right... Sooooo this wet spot on your shorts is all my imagination, huh? Really? Then what's this? Hahaha... You're absolutely soaked... Fuck..."

Upon exposing her dirty little secret, she sought solace in the palms of her hands. Retreating as much as she could from my line of sight. Her bare cunt leaking and in full view, awaiting the endless ridicule that was to befall her. But to her surprise, there was no bullying. No jab. Nor sly compliment. Nothing. She peeked through spread fingers, only to find my lips pressed against hers. Soft kisses woven and sealed. Each one more welcoming than the last. And in time, her advances were all her own. Clinging so desperately to that addictive rhythm. Kiss. Lick. Suck. Mindlessly waltzing between each before falling victim to her own bliss. To her realization, I had long stopped my approach; watching her enjoy herself. She soon crumbled under her embarrassment.

"Having fun, are we? Hahahah... Hey hey... C'mon there's nothing to be embarrassed about... What's with the hostility? It's just a few kisses... Whatttt? I'm not saying anything... Me? A tease? Never.... Get off? Wowwwww... So rude... After all that eager kissing? You really are heartless... And here I thought we were finally hitting it off... Hahahah... C'mon bestie... What's five more minutes? Hm? Hahahah... God... It was just five minutes... You couldn't give me five... fucking... minutes.... Now look at you... Hahahah... Pathetic... You did this to yourself, hun... Now I'm gonna have you take responsibility for it..."

My body lined along hers; her sight fixed on the drip and drop of my my own saliva coating my member. A quick concoction of spit and juices. With pressed thighs, my cock fit so perfectly betwixt her. A constant, yet steady motion of thrusts, leading me to leak pre-cum in the process. And still, her eyes fixated on the comings and goings of my cock eagerly fucking her thighs. Her face tainted with shades of red. Hastening my rhythm. There sudden bursts of moans took place as the tip snagged along her clit. All due to the animalistic type of fucking that was prone to error. To thrust and fuck without remorse only to catch and chase that orgasm I so desperately needed.

"Look at us finally getting along... Who would've thought it'd take fucking your thighs for us to stop bickering? What's with the look? Shouldn't you be happy? You can finally be of some use... With thighs this soft, I might get addicted to using you... Mmph... Fuck... I'm so close... Hey... I want you to clean it up... You heard me... Open your mouth and let me shoot it in... We can't go downstairs with you covered in cum, can we? Unless that's what you're into... Hahahah... No? Fine fine... I guess I'll just stick it in... Save us the mess, right? You don't want that either? Well, you better make up your mind cause I'm close... Mm... Oh? Atta girl... Stick that tongue out... F-fuck... Mmph... Look at me... Yeah, I want you to fucking look at me... There we go... You ready? Yeah? Ughh... Fuck..."

A trail of cum ran down her tongue and through the valley of her breasts. Hesitant fingers glided down licking up each and every drop of me. An unknown side that came so naturally to this prim and proper girl. Despite her reserved demeanor, she would flawlessly complete such a degrading task. In awe, I wanted more of her. To see more of her. Yet we were suddenly interrupted by the thundering footsteps that seemed to be heading to my room. I quickly put on the clothes I had on the night before. Instructing her to stay hidden under the covers until the coast was clear.

"Just follow my lead, alright? Oh! Hey mom... We were just about to head down... I know I know... But we were talking and... we decided to start over again... I thought it was really sweet for her to get me in the morning... so I invited her to hang out with me during the summer... It's actually a good thing she was here cause I can't get outta bed even with an alarm... Right? Isn't she the sweetest? So responsible... So yeah... She's going to drop by every morning and wake me up... Mhm! Alright alright Mom... No need to get emotional... We're good now... Oh! Her? She was just feeling a little dizzy... I'm making her rest for a few before we head down... Yeah, I'll take care of her... Mhm mhm... Yeah... Okay! See you in few minutes... Hahahah... That was close... C'mon, get yourself cleaned up... I don't know about you but... I'm looking forward to tomorrow morning..."

And won't you look at that, this is starting to look like a very promising summer.

---------------------------------------------------------

With much love,

Honey

[oliveisme533]

My dad's neighbor is a dilf

Chapter 2

Joel Miller x you

Summery: You had decided to spend your summer in Austin with your dad. You used to spend almost every summer there, but hadn't spent a summer there since you were a teenager. Which means you hadn't seen a certain Joel Miller in years..

Warnings: Verbally abusive boyfriend. Talks of mental health and self harmI will put a sign for what paragraph to skip if you want to avoid that content

Of fucking course Ben would call you... your rub your temple and groan. "It's too late for this shit" you mutter to yourself and flick off the light with a little more force than you intended.

Sunday morning you slept in. It wasn't until about 11:00 that you heard your dad banging around in the kitchen downstairs. You drag yourself out of bed, highly motivated by the smell of coffee making its way to your nose. As your feet hit the landing toilet freeze, the fog of sleep dissipates instantly and your insides turn to liquid. "It's really no problem! I can have it fixed in a couple hours, plus you don't want to wait around with that kind of shit. It can turn into a much bigger problem real quick if you don't take care of it soon" that was Joel's voice. What is Joel doing in your kitchen at 11am on a Sunday?!! Especially when he was just here..last night? Do him and my dad really spend that much time together?? You contemplate running back upstairs but then your dad catches a glimpse of you before you can execute your plan. "Well hey babydoll! Didn't know if you were still alive up there" you offer him a grunt in response as you make your way to the coffee pot. "Good morning to you too" he laughs. "Oh hey, the water is going to be shut off in a bit because there's a leak in the water pipes upstairs. Joel said he would take care of it so water should be back on in an hour or so." "Do you just call Joel instead of a plumber these days?" You question your dad with a raised eyebrow. He chuckles "no, I basically sent him a text this morning asking for his opinion on whether or not this needed to be fixed asap or it was no big deal. I was going to call someone on Monday, but he insisted". Your dad lowered his voice slightly as he then said "between you and me...I think he's trying to stay real busy these days. I know having Sarah with her mom for the summer has been a really hard adjustment for him" that seemed logic enough to you and you said as much to your dad before Joel came back through the front door carrying several tools.

"Well good morning sunshine" he said with a smile that stirred inside of you. "One of these days I oughta teach your dad how to be useful around the house so he can carry on without me" "yeah you two are like a married couple" you joked. Joel chuckled "mmm well who could resist this handsome man" he said gesturing to himself. You rolled your eyes "you're old" it was a cheap shot, but also you secretly would admit his age because you were curious. He laughed and said "yeah Sarah says the same to me" but he didn't say anything else. He walked out of the kitchen and began up the stairs towards the leaky pipe or whatever the hell he was here to fix. As soon as he was out of sight you flung your head back "why...why couldn't dad just call a freakin plumber" you resolved to deal with the Ben situation after you had some breakfast in your stomach. It was not something you were particularly looking forward too, but you knew he wouldn't let up until you responded. Sure you could block him, but it wasn't like he was some tinder date gone wrong. You two had spent years together, not to mention you were adults who needed to handle the situation like adults and not take the easy way out.

After breakfast you found an outfit that wasn't an old t-shirt and shorts with little owls on them. You were still mortified that Joel saw this look. "Okay you can do this" you breathed, picking up your phone and tapping Ben's name." Of course he picked up almost immediately. "Hey.. how are you?" You responded politely, but quickly veered the conversation to what he really wanted to talk about. "Well, I've been thinking. I really think you and I are meant to be together. It just feels right, and I know I haven't always been the best at showing up or just being a good boyfriend in general, but now I really feel I'm ready for that level of commitment" there was a short pause

"listen, Ben ... I just don't see it that way. I've spent too much time over the years being disappointed by your actions. I've broke my own heart so many times because I convinced myself you were really going to change and then to I didn't. I can't do that anymore. We're too old for this. I'm glad you feel like you're ready to commit and I hope you find a girl who is too, but at this point in my life I just can't offer you that." You had feared he would be angry, but weren't prepared for what came next. ⚠️CW⚠️ "Are you fucking serious?? Like after all these years you're just going to throw all that away?! Like honestly I didn't need to come back and give you another chance but I did and" "GIVE ME another chance?!! What the fuck Ben..HOW do you even see it that way??" "WHAT DO YOU MEAN??" He shouted back "babe I have put up with so much of your shit over the years and now I'm saying that it doesn't matter and I'm going to stick around regardless of all that!" Oh now he has crossed a line "MY SHIT?! WHAT, PRAY TELL ARE YOU REFERRING TOO?!" "I have had to do SO MUCH for you like when your mental health is bad you just shut off completely. It's like trying to be in a relationship with a fucking wall! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD THAT IS...WHAT KIND OF TOLL THAT TAKES ON ME." Hot tears of anger were streaming down your cheeks. "I CANNOT believe you said that! Did you ever consider how hard it is FOR ME in those times?! Like honestly Ben you only think about yourself." "Oh really is that why I took off work so I could drive you to the hospital when you slit your wrists and you called me, crying?? Obviously that shows I care for you! You cannot tell me I only care about myself when I had to do that kind of shit for you!" Your chest was now rising and falling very rapidly. You certainly were not thinking about how loud you were being right now, but luckily your dad was outside mowing the lawn, well out of earshot. "Ben that is the bare MINIMUM A PERSON CAN DO. Like you're really hanging that over my head??! fucking grow up! God FORBID YOU TAKE THE TIME TO DRIVE ME TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM DURING THE WORK DAY. How about we talk about all the shit I've done for YOU over the years." You could now hear him laughing. A hollow laugh, but a laugh all the same. "Oh DONT EVEN. What could you POSSIBLY have done to compare to me being your GODDAMN NURSE when you're a grown adult." It was all too much. You were all but sobbing at this point. "You are such an ASSHOLE Ben! Don't EVER call me again! THIS IS OVER. I will NEVER love you and you will NEVER speak to me this way again. If you so much as text me...I'm going to get fucking restraining order!" You choked out. "A RESTRAINING ORDER ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?? My dads a literal LAWYER you know that right babe?! I'm NOT going to let that happen!" "Do you even hear yourself right now??! LEAVE ME THE. FUCK. ALONE."

                            End of CW

You hang up the call and crumple to your bed with heaving sobs. You are interrupted by a knock on your door. Presuming it's your dad you walk over to open in and all but fling yourself out the door way knowing he's standing right then ready to hold you. Hug you and tell you everything will be okay like you're 13 or something. The blurred your vision and it was not your dad on the other side of the door. Your head hit his chest and you flung your arms up around his neck. "Dad I hate boys!" You sobbed. But then you realized the height wasn't right, the smell wasn't right, the arms and chest weren't right...

you practically jumped backwards and to your horror saw Joel Miller standing before you. His soft puppy dog eyes heavy with concern and care. "I-um sorry. I assumed it was my dad or I never would have" Joel held up a hand to cut you off. "It okay, you don't need to apologize...I've got a daughter of my own don't think I haven't had the same hug and those same tears." His voice was soft and gentle, and he smiled at the last comment. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay." You could only nod. "It's none of my business, but this guy sounds like bad news and it's a matter of your safety...does your dad know about all this?" You nodded again. "Yes he knows about Ben...although I'll need to update him on the new low that Ben stooped to today. But my dad knows and I feel safe...and in blocking Ben's number." Joel's brows were knit together. "Okay...I don't need to know about but your dad does and it sounds like you've got a good thing going there." You felt awkward and more than anything wanted to disappear and forget this interaction ever took place. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other and picked at your fingers "um yeah I think everything with be fine now" you said awkwardly. "Alright well I apologize for intruding into your private life, but I'm glad you're safe and under your dads roof." He started to walk away when you heard yourself say "Thank you Joel..I really appreciate it."he smiled at you and said "don't mention it" "You better finish up fixing that leak before my dad finds something else to break." Joel laughed "don't worry I'm just about done and I'll be out of yalls way in a jiffy." What a day... and it's only noon

[jealousveronya]

Would've, could've, should've - Chapter 1

Summary:

Everyone at the Spring Court always talked about how menacing and ruthless the High Lords were, especially the strongest High Lord, the High Lord of the Night Court. And Feyre did fear him, but when the entire world seemed set on reminding her how she needed to be protected, something even her husband couldn't accomplish without her sacrificing her freedom, she couldn't help but imagine a reality where he wasn't a threat, but the one she clung to breathlessly every night.

After all, if she needed to be protected, the company of the strongest should suffice.

However, that was just a fantasy Feyre created to escape to when she couldn't get out of bed. It meant nothing. She hadn't even met the lord of the night.

But what happens when she does and can't stop a blush from creeping onto her face as she finally puts a face to all her sensual fantasies?

Read Chapter 1 on: AO3 or continue reading

Seven thrones, crafted out of purest white marble, encircled a pond that shimmered in the daylight with lotuses gently drifting across its surface. The seven thrones were meant for the seven high lords, the rulers of Prythian. Six were occupied, but one remained empty, a truth no one dared to speak of yet, nor its implications.

It had been a considerable time since the high lords held a meeting, their mutual disdain apparent in the uneasy silence that hung over the gathering.

"For how long do you intend to keep us in the dark, Beron?" Tarquin asked, scratching his chin, a hint of mockery woven into his words.

"I have a court to attend to. Explain the reason for this meeting at once, or I'll return to it." Tarquin crossed his legs. A slight wave in the pond splashed Beron's leather boots, prompting a mischievous smirk to dance on the High Lord of Summer's face.

Beron, the high lord with auburn locks, exhaled as his fingers drummed against the throne. He behaved as if he were the father of five insolent brats he'd summoned for a lecture.

"I had honestly hoped someone else would be the first to admit it, but I see it all comes down to me. Very well." He leaned back in his throne.

"A spark of my power has vanished," he declared.

Whatever smug expression had been on Tarquin's face instantly evaporated into thin air.

In a world where even a spark could mean the difference between life and death, high lord or slave, the danger of this confession did not go unnoticed.

"Am I the only one?" Beron asked, looking at the other high lords with a narrowed gaze.

"Regretfully or fortunately, you are not the only one," Kallias began. "I noticed it too. I was at breakfast when I felt it just... leave. That was about two months ago."

"I have also experienced it," Tarquin added.

The other high lords followed with their agreements.

"It's just a spark now, but who is to say how much more will vanish, how much weaker we will get?" Beron balled his hands into fists, slamming them against the throne. "It's natural to suspect Hybern—perhaps they've found a way to drain us of our power slowly; Cauldron knows how much they'd want that. But we also can't dismiss," he looked toward the seventh throne, the empty one covered in dust,

"him."

Silence flooded the room.

The seventh throne was meant for the death incarnate, the strongest high lord, the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand—the only male in Prythian who could make all the other high lords take a step back, even if some wouldn't admit it.

"Well, shouldn't he be here then? So we can ask him? If he's responsible, he already knows—there's no point hiding it from him." Helion broke the silence. He had been avoiding Beron's gaze the entire meeting. Although the rumors of his affair with Beron's wife were old, the bitterness between the two males was still palpable.

"And if he isn't to blame and was somehow unaffected unlike us, do we need to let him know we have grown even weaker?" The high lord of the autumn court spat.

"I have to agree. We can always plan a second meeting with him, but perhaps we don't need to tell him everything from the beginning." Tarquin followed.

"So what would be the best way to handle this?" Kallias spoke as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His power was leaking from him, so much that the part of the pond in front of him was slowly freezing.

"I recommend sending spies to the night court. We need to see if Rhysand is planning a war, and whether he is gathering armies. As strong as he is, if his goal is to weaken us so he can take over, he still won't try it without an army. If there is no army, we'll meet again to discuss what should be done further" Beron suggested.

Agreements could be heard from all sides of the hall, except for one. Beron's eyes followed the silence until they stopped at a male dressed in green, blonde strands of hair covering his already unreadable expression.

"You've been awfully quiet, Tamlin. Is there any reason for that?"

Tamlin hummed in dismissal before replying.

"No, you have just said it all. In fact, I volunteer one of my spies for the mission."

Upon the end of the meeting, Tamlin had winnowed back to his manor.

His hands were shaking slightly, his vision blurred, claws growing longer every second as the beast inside threatened to come out.

He had barely kept it inside during the discussion, gripping the armrests of the throne for dear life.

Since he'd gotten the letter from Beron that called for a meeting he had prayed to the Cauldron that this wasn't the topic. That no one had noticed the missing sparks of power. Or that if they had noticed, that they didn't care enough. They were just sparks after all. They were so insignificant compared to the entirety of a high lord's power, power capable of maintaining an entire court, keeping a season everlasting.

He took slow steps up the staircase. The weight of his secret was threatening to push him back down.

What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to handle this? Right now they believed Rhysand or Hybern was to blame, but it's only a matter of time before they find out the truth.

The all-too-familiar scent hit his nostrils. It was the sweetest scent he had ever known. He relished in inhaling it before his feet followed its trace. 

Slowly opening the door, he peeked inside.

It was a moment to behold. Water was splashed everywhere, bubbles were spilling out of the tub. Light from the windows passing through the bubbles reflected rainbows on the marble floor. And inside the tub lay a female with golden wet hair framing her face and one leg lazily draped outside, swinging back and forth.

The sight of the female he held dear to his heart was a momentary reprieve, forcing the beast to retreat within the chamber of his soul as if her presence alone could pacify it.

As if for the first time ever, Tamlin exhaled, only for a second though  as the sight of her was also a reminder of the ever-looming threat.

The meeting had been a threat, a warning, because of who she was - because around her shoulders, that were peaking out of the water, tiny water wolves were frolicking - water wolves that she was creating. Her face wore a concentrated expression with furrowed brows as her delicate hands shaped water into wolves and gave them life.

Finally breaking her focus, taking notice of Tamlin, she looked up. Her blue orbs graced him with their sincerity as a smile found its way on her lips. Her skin started emitting a glow with intensity similar to one of the sun.

If he wasn't mesmerized he might have squinted to protect his vision.

And as the final punch to the gut, to remind him again of whaz she was, instead of speaking, she gently entered his mind.

"I missed you."

Tamlin could spend an eternity in that tub snuggled up against Feyre, kissing the nape of her neck, listening to the faintest of her moans, her fingers tangled in his hair, if the Cauldron only allowed it.

His teeth grazed her skin in between his kisses causing Feyre to shudder and pull on his hair harder.

The beast inside of him wanted him to mark her, to declare her as his as if that would protect her.

“Are you ready to talk about what happened?” Feyre asked using her daemati powers, trailing her nails against the inside of his mind. As much as he was settled inside her physically, she was inside him mentally.

He bit her neck eliciting a sharp gasp from her. It wasn’t enough to mark her, just enough for her to feel the sharpness of his canines and how easy it would be for him to pierce her skin.

“I prefer it when I hear your voice.” Tamlin pulled on her plump bottom lip with his claw. He wasn’t interested in containing his claws like he had been doing at the meeting. Not with her. With her he didn’t need to hide or fake control.

And the reality from who she had gotten her daemati spark wasn’t really allowing him to even try concealing them. The fact his magic was running through her veins now was eating at his heart, especially when she was so determined on using it so frequently.

Violet eyes flashed in his mind, but he quickly composed himself.

“Fine. Are you ready to talk about what happened?” Feyre asked audibly now, pink covering her freckled cheeks.

“No,” Tamlin murmured before shifting his hips. Feyre breathed out a song of pleasure as her eyes rolled back into her head. “Fuck, Tamlin.”

He licked the sensitive place he found above the collarbone. 

He’ll protect her.

He’ll protect her from everyone. 

No one will take her from him.

His jaw closed around the curve of her neck, this time with enough force to draw blood.

“Feyre,” Tamlin started as his tongue tasted her blood.

“Hmm,” Feyre moaned.

“You’ll cook us alive.”

At that Feyre noticed the rising temperature of the water, a consequence of her skin getting hotter and hotter, almost igniting fire.

“Cauldron, sorry.”

Tamlin’s chuckle echoed against his mark.

”I can’t- I don’t know how to stop it.”

At that Tamlin picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he stepped out of the tub and headed towards Feyre’s bedroom. He made a point to step on one of the water wolves following them, turning it into a puddle.

“HEY!”

Tamlin only laughed in response.

“I need to practice. I need to get better at using my magic.” Feyre sounded disappointed.

“Nonsense,” Tamlin commented as he walked over to the bed, leaving a wet trail behind them.

“I could help you with the court, I could do so much.”

He lowered her onto the silky sheets. “You are already helping me.”

She looked to the side out of embarrassment.

“I could help you in other ways.”

“I am the high lord. I think I’ll manage. Besides, I want to take care of you. Not the other way around.” He kissed her breasts.

“Well, then I guess I’ll have to stop taking care of you.”

“That,” he warned “is an exception.”

His kisses started to get lower and lower. “Which we will get to later.”

“I just think that I should train, get better at using it.”

But Tamlin did not respond.

[captaincapsicle83]

At First Sight ○○ Bucky Barnes x reader

Pairings: Natasha x reader (platonic), Wanda x reader (platonic), Clinton x reader (platonic), Bucky x reader

Plot: Your roommates set you up on a date with their coworker, and you two hit it off right away. (Most of this story is silly little platonic fun, but I like it anyway).

(The little gif of him drinking water is funnier after you read the story)

“He has a cat.”

“Well, whoop-di-do,” You huff monotonously. Wanda scrunches up her nose at you, before sighing and shaking her head.

“I think you should go,” She says. You risk rolling your eyes, even though she could very well kill you, then and there.

“‘I think you should go’” You say, making your voice go higher, in a mocking tone. “If he’s so great, you go. I have a ton of work to do.”

Just last year, you landed a teaching position. It had been in May, and you were given hardly any time at all to prep. School started again in a week, and even though you’d been preparing loosely all summer, this week you were locked in.

So why the hell did Wanda need you to go on a stupid date?

“If you don’t go, there’s a good chance you’ll die alone,” She crosses her arms, eyebrows raised.

“You’re here, and so is Natasha,” You point out, finally putting your laptop to the side, and uncrossing your legs, stretching them out.

“What about when we go get married and have lives, and have jobs, and you just…die of boredom,” What was this a Sims game? Was she gonna lock you in a room with a radio next? Put the walls up around a pool?

“Clint’ll be here. Poor little shit’s never getting married. No one wants the little scrapper,” You pull your coffee mug to your lips. You must’ve left it idle longer than intended, because instead of warm, silky, and smooth, it was starkly cold, and felt thin beyond your lips.

“You want him?” Her eyes were annoyed, but her face was bemused.

“He’s low maintenance,” You shrug.

“Who?” Someone says, coming through the front door with an armload of groceries, and a red-haired friend behind them. While Clint had about ten plastic bags of things, Natasha sipped an iced coffee from a straw, looking awfully unbothered.

“Why does she still look homeless Wanda?” Nat questioned. “You said you were gonna drag her kicking and screaming.”

“We were getting there.”

Four people in one New York apartment, in upper Manhatten. It was expensive as high hell, but you all made it work.

So why am I gonna put my job on hold for something stupid as this-

You’re sitting on Wanda’s bed, Natasha’s fingers in your hair, Wanda in her closet, and Clint tasked with the job of “make-up artist”.

“I have my hobbies.”

You’re just about at the end of your rope with them, Wanda picking something out and Clint huffing and puffing that it doesn’t go with the look he’s going for, Natasha yelling at both of them like children. Finally, the timer that means, “We better be ready now or we’re gonna be late” sounds off. Wanda’s best idea today, the worst being, obviously…

Natasha and Wanda have tickets for an art gallery opening, so they’re both driving you, Clint tagging along for “moral support.” Groans were elicited.

Natasha was giving you a run down the whole way there.

“He’s a little quiet at first,” She says.

“Good thing you’re not,” Clint whispers to you.

“I don’t know if he’ll get there first, or not, but he’s got dark hair and will probably be wearing dark clothes, he does around the office all the time.”

“Emo bo-” Clint cuts himself off from his whisper, snapping to Natasha. “He works with us.”

“Yes.”

Silence…

“Well, who is it?” Clint asks, rather boisterously.

“…No.”

“No?” Clint, clearly offended, turns to you. “What’s his name?”

Your mouth opens, before shutting again, realizing no one had told you. You lean forward in the backseat.

“Who is it, Nat?”

“You’ll see.”

“No-” “Nuh-uh!” You and Clint both protest.

“I’ve been to your guys’ office I wanna know,” you say.

“Better pray it’s Steve,” Clint says.

“Oh, Natasha it better be Steve.”

Natasha turns around in the passenger seat, to face you and Clint in the back.

“Steve is engaged,” She starts.

“Yeah, so?” Clint says, and the car is quiet for a moment. When you make eye contact with Clint’s green eyes, the silence is cut by both of your laughter.

Unfortunately, this put a dent in the interrogation, and now you were outside of the diner. Your friends had told you good luck and left you here. You did notice Natasha whisper something to Clint as you got out, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. She covered his mouth and basically strangled him down when he tried to tell you.

Since they were gone…no one could force you to go in…

You couldn’t do that. Morally, you would feel horrible to just leave whoever this is sitting alone, waiting for you.

And the girls might evict you.

You walked through the doors of the diner. The diner was a cute little place, albeit a strange theme. It was based on Norse Mythology, called “Odin’s Sons.”

You were greeted by a blonde man, who was the hostess. You told him you were here to meet a date and he broke out into a smile. He said a man had arrived just a little while ago, here to wait for a date.

He led you to a table, where you were greeted by-

before

“I think you’ll like it,” Sam was saying. He was helping his friend, coworker, and roommate, get ready for a date Sam had set up for him.

“Who is she again?” Bucky asked, his voice strained.

“You don’t know her, but she’s Nat and Clint’s friend. She’s in some of the pictures on Clint’s stupid little desk of picture frames,” Bucky rolled his eyes at the mention of the pictures. Clint took many unauthorized pictures of Bucky himself (among others) and they ended up in frames. Clint claimed that, being an art major, and having taken many photography classes, he had the ultimate right.

As Sam described what you looked like, Bucky felt like he did sorta know who he was talking about. You came into the office sometimes, to bring whiny Clint and grateful Natasha food and coffee.

And you were probably the same girl Clint tortured and made fun of him for having a “crush” on.

Bucky arrived at the restaurant about half an hour before he was due. He wanted to be early and to have time to shake away all the nerves.

Well, maybe all was a bit much to ask. There were definitely a lot of nerves to cover.

He was greeted by Thor, the host who gave him a seat. A teenage boy with light brown hair and a bubbly personality brought him a glass of water and some bread. And another glass of water. And another. And a refill of bread.

“Thanks, Peter,” Bucky said again. No matter how many times the boy had to come back, he didn’t seem to stop smiling or being glad to get Bucky yet another glass of water.

As Thor came around the corner again, just as Peter was leaving, he was accompanied by the very girl Bucky had guessed it would be.

You were laughing, he could see, something Thor had said. Time felt like it was slowed as you met his eyes with yours. They seemed to sparkle with your joy, and his heart fluttered at the sight.

He hadn’t seen you so elegant before, but to him, you looked just as beautiful with or without. The makeup that defined your features seemed to have been applied with a steady hand. The dress you wore seemed to almost go with the makeup, and he wondered if it was planned or if you were just…perfect.

He had barely any time at all to gather his thoughts and put his ducks in a row before you sat across from him, smiling warmly. He smiled back, unable to say or do anything but sip his water.

“Hi,” You said. Your heart was pounding, and your heads were sweaty with nervousness. He set down his water glass that he had been holding since you came around the corner with Thor. He was barely finished saying hi back when the young waiter came to take your order.

He ordered first, and you quickly scanned the menu and picked something. The boy smiled warmly as he collected the menus from you, with the promise your food would be out soon.

“So,” The dark-haired man cleared his throat. You were entranced by the blue of his eyes as he said, “You…your name’s Y/n, right?”

“Hmm? Oh!” You realized you were basically questioning your own name, only a second too late. “Yeah, yeah, uh…Nat…asha, didn’t really tell me…your name.”

You decided on the long version of Nat’s name, taking a pause beforehand. You were grateful when the waiter, Peter, popped up out of nowhere with a drink you ordered, and more water for your date.

“It’s Bucky…Well, I mean, it’s James, but everyone calls me Bucky,” “Bucky” gave you a lopsided smile, which you returned.

Peter wasn’t lying when he said your food would be out right away. It seemed like you had barely taken the time to talk before your plates were in front of you.

“So you have…?”

“Three roommates,” you said, laughing a little.

“Oh god, and one of them’s Clint?” His face was twisted in genuine concern, which made you laugh a little harder. Bucky was hot and Bucky was funny and you could hardly take it.

“What about you?”

“It’s just me and Sam right now…and we have a cat,” He adds the last part after taking a sip of his drink.

“You don’t look like a cat person,” You shake your head, taking a bite of your food.

“If I wear clothes that haven’t immediately come out of the dryer, I look like a cat,” He says, and then seems to pull a white cat hair off of his black shirt.

“You need lighter clothes.”

“Not really my style.”

“You’re eternally a goth kid?”

He lets out a loud laugh at that, making you smile even harder.

~~~

“She was hot, and she was funny,” Bucky was saying to Sam. Sam was lying stretched out on the couch, Alpine laying pristinely on his chest, all her legs tucked under her fluffy body.

“That’s nice Bucky,” Sam says, only half paying attention. He coos at the cat, scratching her chin, “Isn’t that nice baby?”

“Okay, you’re not listening.”

“What makes you think that?”

~~~

You were laying on your couch, your feet in Clint’s lap as he prodded you with questions. Natasha shushed him, smacking him upside the head, as she handed you a drink. And by drink, that refers to an entire bottle of wine.

You were fiddling with the cork as you droned on about the date. About what Bucky looked like, and about what you talked about. More about what he looked like…

You let yourself trail off as Natasha and Clint shared a knowing look, and Wanda was smiling to herself as she played on her phone.

“What?” you ask, eyes full of innocence.

“Noth-” Wanda starts, but Clint cuts her off.

“You’re whipped,” he laughs.

You smile to yourself, shaking your head.

Maybe you were.

[luvmmarner]

ANDREI SVECHNIKOV - HATE HATE HATE

This was written for @comphy-and-cozy apart of the summer fic exchange! I know it’s really short the next few chapters will have over 7000 words. I was rushing to get everything mapped out and I changed and rechanged so much shit! I restarted 5 times and I restarted like a week ago because nothing made sense, but now I have a whole plot mapped out and everything! There will be 10 chapters so no need to worry! This is more like a prologue! I promise! I decided to make it a readers pov however I’ll post many other povs in the behind the scenes readers name and stuff like that. Hopefully that makes sense! (It’s 1AM help me deal lord)

A big thank you for @wyattjohnston for letting me be apart of this and I’m so so sorry for delaying this for so much days. Holy crap! I promise I’ll get all the chapters out as soon as possible.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

Word count: 1K

TW: reader gets drugged (that’s it nothing bad)

It was immediately obvious that you detested him after you had your first encounter with him. You felt frustrated by his arrogant and excessively confident demeanour. You were unable to comprehend how your brother Sebastian Aho initially connected with him. Both of them were interested in different things, with the exception of the fact that they were both on the Carolina Hurricanes and loved to play hockey.

You hated him or did you?

enemies to lovers + brothers best friend

If it wasn’t the sunlight waking you up it was your brother and his loud obnoxious friends over. Today was the same as every other day since their shouts were so loud that they resonated throughout the walls, and the buzzing of your alarm clock didn't help matters either.

“Wake up and come downstairs sleeping beauty” you heard your brother Sebastian call from all the way downstairs. All you could do was groan at the request. You didn't want to get out of bed, nor did you feel like getting out of it. Even if you didn't have to work today, all you intended to do was relax and take it easy.

You decided to listen to the voices downstairs and suddenly recognized a voice that you had never heard before. The voice had an accent that was anything but typical of someone from North America. It was abundantly evident that whoever it was, they were from Europe.

When you had been considering whether or not you should go downstairs, you heard some movement coming up the stairs.You believed it was your brother at first, but when a hand caressed your back, you were taken aback.

The voice asked, "What are you doing in the middle of the hallway, young one," as his touch was still lingering before it finally moved away from you.

"First of all, I'm not young, and second of all, who are you?" You shot back your response using the most condescending tone you were capable of producing.

"My name is Andrei. And yours? Actually you don’t need to say I already know it and regardless I’m just going to call you young one." When he had finally turned around to face you, he inquired.

There was no denying the fact that he had a stunning appearance. It was obvious that he was much taller than you, and his perfume smelled like a combination of apple cider and pumpkins. His accent did not help matters either; it just added to the hotness of him.

“Don’t call me that ever again." You responded back, clearly irritated by the way he called you young one. You weren’t young by any means and just because you lived with your brother doesn’t mean you were.

“Cool well I could careless what you have to say by the way your brother asked for you to come downstairs. I'll see you down there once you decide to stop staring at me.” Andrei said in a cocky voice which just made you even more irritated and mad. Who does he think he is calling you out like that.

“I wasn’t staring” You told him as he chuckled and turn away down the stairs. You heard him say “Sure sure sure.” Before his voice disappeared alongside many other voices in the house.

Your brother yelled at you as you made your way downstairs, telling you to come sit down and introduce yourself to the others.

“Come here and introduce yourself, these are my friends I train with.” It was said by your brother Sebastian.

You responded to the request by rolling your eyes.

You sat down on the sofa immediately crossing your legs and staring at the guy in front of you. The guy I you just had an interaction with the guy who called you “young one”

She shouldn't be sitting with us, she can't be more than 5 or something," Andrei said. Inquiring while casting a sideways glance at your brother, Sebastian then joined the others in what appeared to be a simultaneous fit of laughter.

You had no choice but to hurry back to your room because there was nothing else you could do. You weren’t going to sit there as he kept making fun of you/ if one thing wasn’t obvious is that you had a strong dislike for him.

It was unlike any other typical day that had come before. You happened to be invited to join the girls as they headed out to the club to celebrate Brianna's engagement.

You and your friends came to the conclusion that the best way to celebrate would be to first go to a pub and then go home.

You had a difficult time choosing between the dresses, but in the end, you went with the glittering silver dress that was covered with beads all over it and was only slightly shorter than the others.

You didn't give a second thought to whether or not it would be a good idea to wear it, particularly given the fact that you were a female in the company of a large number of other females; nonetheless, since you didn't even give it a second thought, you simply slipped it on and joined the girls in the car.

As soon as you arrived at the club and were able to enter, you made your way straight to the bar and placed an order with the bartender for several alcoholic beverages. You acknowledged their kindness and then turned to look for your friends, but on the way, you were unlucky enough to run into someone.

Their hands grasped your waist to prevent you from falling to the ground. Once you made it to your feet their hand didn’t leave yours.

“Woah watch where you're going young one.” The voice said. You didn’t even need to think twice who it was. You knew it was Andrei. The cocky European voice was a clear indicator.

“Are you following me or something? Are you obsessed?” You said as irritation ran through your veins. You detested his arrogant grin as well as how he spoke with utmost cockiness you’ve ever heard before.

He paid you no mind, instead emitting nothing more than a muffled murmur as he drank from his glass. You made the decision that you weren't going to let that dampen your spirits, and instead you were going to have the best night it was even possible for you to have. You set your drink down and proceeded straight to the dance floor after doing so.

You danced for a few minutes, then went back to your drink to have a few more sips of it before joining your friends for some more dancing.

You were immediately overcome with feelings of lightheadedness and dizziness upon dancing for quite some time, it was to the point where you found it difficult to stand. Your vision suddenly went black and you were sure that someone had caught you before it became completely dark.

…

[elvisabutler]

she's there watching for me

fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( big daddy flavor ) x female reader word count: 2593 warnings: p in v sex ( unprotected ). insecurity regarding weight. the word fat being used in the narrative. implied breastfeeding kink. light sub elvis. mommy kink. light dom reader. implication that elvis is girthier than normal when he hasn't had release in a while. brief mention of pills/detoxing. elvis is a selkie. bit of fingering. use of the words mama and baby boy. a hefty chunk of belly worship. author’s note: welcome to day 3 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, mommy kink with selkie elvis presley x reader. so for context i feel like i need to make it clear, so the original selkie au i wrote was set pretty much in a timeframe of about 1971 to 1973. basically allowed y'all to read it and decide which age you wanted elvis at. i erred more toward '73 in my mind mostly because that was pretty close to 40 and i had made the comment in the fic about him being surprised he got that close to forty. that being said, this means the more time that passed in the universe the closer i was getting to 1977. i— have never intended this to have a sad ending. honestly if y'all must know out of all the series i've inadvertently written, this has the most gentle ending other than spark for elvis as far as when he eventually dies. so this takes place in an alternate 1978 where elvis is still alive and is about big daddy build. there is also a hint to the future breastfeeding kink fill and a little surprise in here. know that— the fact that a certain name does not have the middle name attached to it is important. also if you have no idea what this series/verse is, the masterlist is right here. beyond that long winded author's note, special thanks to @stylespresleyhearted and @eliseinmemphis for being my feral little gremlins. to @prompted-wordsmith for being seal!!! always and to my discord wives, birdy, christi and marina, y'all know i love you till the end of time. also once again, i really do love how y'all liked this and received it and live to see your thoughts on my writing.

"Mama." A sleepy murmur leaves Elvis's lips, a pout firmly planted on them as he feels your side of the bed. It's empty and starting to chill, a common occurrence when you're not occupying it. You always forget that he's a bit of a light sleeper until a certain hour of the night when you think his brain and body finally shut off. That hour of the night was at least two hours away but you were for once experiencing your own sleeping issues caused by one Lisa Marie, one John Baron and one little Jesse. A bit of a bug had found itself circulating around the younger three in the house and you found yourself taking care of your little seal pups. After all you were if nothing else, a good seal wife. A good seal wife who happens to be sneaking into your own bedroom like a guilty woman.

"You should have already been sleeping. Didn't you keep telling me how exhausted you were?" You ask, sliding into bed next to Elvis, your hand cupping his face. "I think you dozed off on the way home from the concert."

Elvis can't help but flush a bit in embarrassment as he looks at you, trying to come up with some excuse. "Can't— Feel all keyed up...ya know how I get 'fter a show. Can't go swimmin' to burn it off." He licks his lips, watching the way your chest moves up and down in your nightgown, "jus' worried 'bout how the paper's gonna talk 'bout me."

"It's Memphis, Elvis. They're not going to talk about you like everyone else, you're their son. Honorary King of the city," your hands move to his front, brushing against his stomach, marveling at the feel of the silk of his pajama top and how it reminds you of his skin. "That why you're wearing a shirt to bed? Hiding it away from me?"

It meaning his stomach. Elvis looks away and shrugs. "Mama— don't. I know 'm still packin' on some weight." He had thought when he met you it was just his body betraying him, trying to blubber up like a true seal and it had fluctuated enough as you helped him sweat out his uppers and his downers and everything that wasn't strictly required. He thought maybe you'd get something resembling the man you met all those years ago.

But you always take such good care of him and he should have realized that when you made sure he was well fed with his pups that his own body— his genetics would rear their head and he'd stay a stocky and fat sort of man no matter what exercise he did. Damn human body seems to think he needs blubber as much as he does as as a seal.

"And? Are we not married? Did I agree to love you no matter what?" Even as you try and answer a little flippantly your eyes dart across his face and his body looking for a tell-tale sign that you pushed too hard with that retort but only see a shrug. "I know my pussy doesn't have your tongue, so Elvis— you want to answer?"

"Yes, Mama," he whispers, shifting in the bed a little at the way your tone shifts from purely loving to one that's just commanding enough that he has to focus on breathing and willing his cock to stay down. You're both exhausted but damn if lil Elvis isn't wanting to bury himself so tight in your snatch that he has no choice but to sleep afterward.

At the word Mama you feel your toes curl just a little bit at how it sounds leaving his lips. It's not the first time he's ever called you Mama, after all, you are the step mother to his daughter and the mother to his sons. There's something in his tone though, something that has your body strumming with what you've affectionately dubbed your seal wife sense that tells you something is off. This is different. "You don't have to call me Mama when we're not talking about the pups, Elvis."

Elvis's tongue darts out to lick at his lips as one of your breasts finally makes an escape from the top of your nightgown. You hear the sharp inhale of his breath before without warning his face burrows into your chest frowning at how they don't feel full of milk and pulling you close as his arms wrap around you. "Ain't callin' ya it 'cause of the pups, Mama."

A shiver passes through you at his hot breath against your chilled chest. He's not just calling you Mama because of the pups. You're— you take care of him as well as anyone would take care of a baby boy, don't you? You make sure his meds are taken, make sure no one takes advantage of him when he doesn't want to bother with particulars. You make sure everything is in tip top shape with him and everyone around you. You're his Mama too, aren't you?

Your words come out a unintentionally a little shaky, your nerves starting to get the best of you before you finally ask a simple question. "Do you want Mama to take care of you? Show you how much she loves you?"

Elvis very rarely sounds like a seal when he's in his human form. He very rarely can make the specific vocalizations he needs to in order to achieve it but sometimes even with his body in his human form, he can manage it. You swear you see a flash of his skin, almost as if he wants to shift before you hear the whimper and whine against your skin in between kisses to your chest. "Please."

Denying Elvis isn't something you're good at since you came back together and especially since you've been married. He is the love of your life, the seal to your seal wife but you need to have the control today, he needs to cede over his control to you for you to take care of him. It's with that knowledge in hand that you push him away from your chest even as you hear a growl and a whine fall from his lips. Your hands push on his chest, forcing him to lay down even as one hand moves to unbutton his shirt, exposing his chest hair to you first and then exposing his stomach— that filled out out swell that tell the story of how you're taking care of him and damn anyone who'd say anything different about it even if you know sometimes his body acts up and makes things twist and turn and hurt him. Your hands run through his chest hair as you move to kiss his lips and down his neck to his chest where you nip at both his nipples earning two short barks of surprise. When you reach his stomach you feel him shift more, his hips bucking just a little as if to distract you and get you to move down to his aching cock that you haven't even touched but is pressing against the bottom of his stomach. Precum starts to smear against the underside of his stomach and he needs you do something to it.

"Did Mama say you could move, baby boy?" You coo as you rub his stomach, hands forcing the silk of the shirt completely away and exposing his bare torso to you. "Let Mama show you how much she loves this. How she has to stop herself from grinding her beaver on it. You'd like that, wouldn't you, baby? Want Mama to come on this big stomach of yours? Have the hair on it all shiny from my come?"

As you talk you feel yourself growing more and more aroused, your underwear quickly becoming drenched despite him not even touching you. You can't help but grind a little against him, leaving a little wet spot where your nightgown and underwear block your body from his. A whimper that almost sounds like an angry growl leaves his mouth as he tries to keep himself from moving. His hands itch to grab your hips, to tear your panties off in a fit of animalistic fervor and bunch up your nightgown so he can sink his cock between your folds and feel just how drenched for him you are. What he does do is move to take off his pants only to have your hand grab at his wrist. "Patience."

"Ya teasin', Mama," he grunts out a warning, trying to act as if he's not cededing all control to you. You aren't focusing where he needs you to and that just won't do. "Gonna come in my pants if ya don't do somethin'. Wanna feel that tight—"

His words are cut off when you use the grip you have on his wrist to bring his hand to between your legs, his fingers easily gliding into your glistening cunt. The only thing that leaves his mouth is a groan of pleasure, his head falling back as he allows himself to play with your clit. You don't stop him.

"So needy, my baby boy." You tease as you maneuver to take off his pants, pulling them down just enough that you can hear the smear of his cock against his stomach. Hear how he's leaking so much already that you won't really even have to prep yourself. You had originally planned to suck at it, to put it in your mouth until it managed to stand at attention but that isn't needed tonight, is it? No, he's ready and aching and throbbing in your hand as you grip it. Your other hand moves to lift up his stomach just enough to fully expose his cock as you slide the foreskin down to reveal it in all its glory. You can't help but lick your lips and clench around Elvis's fingers.

"Christ, Mama." He curses as his cock twitches, begging to be buried inside of you. He pulls out his fingers and moves them to his mouth, watching you with hooded eyes and labored breaths as he sucks on them, tongue taking in every last bit of your juices. His fingers leave his mouth with a pop. "Taste so fuckin' sweet. Please help me out."

"Don't I always?" The words slip from your lips with a smile as Elvis's eyes look up at you through his eyelashes and he gives you the same answering smile. You take a moment to pull yourself on top of him and situate yourself before you sinking down ever so slowly. Your breathing sync up, becoming shorter as you get more and more of his cock inside you. This isn't the first time you've had sex, far from it but it's the first time Elvis has truly given you this much control over what's happening between you. A whisper of his name escapes your lips as you move down to kiss him softly at first before worrying his bottom lip between your teeth. It reminds you of your first kiss with him and from how he shakes underneath you— you think he remembers too. "Baby boy, you're— you feel bigger than normal. You've been needing Mama that bad all night? Got it all pent up inside you?"

He nods, not trusting how his voice is going to sound. Figuring it'd take on a high pitched quality it hasn't had since he was first starting out or even from before then. You might be his Mama and he's your boy that you take care of so well but— he can't let ya hear him like that. Almost as if you sense he's holding back, one of your hands moves to cup his face, brushing your fingers against his sideburns until you reach his hair. You yank just a little at some of the strands and force him to look at you. "Don't— don't hold back for mama. Let it all out, baby boy. It isn't healthy to hold back. Let me hear you while I help lil Elvis feel better."

It's then that the floodgates open, a string of curses and growls and every noise in between leaves Elvis's mouth as you bounce in his lap, clenching your cunt every so often in between bounces. Elvis's own hips can't be contained as he thrusts up against you, earning more than a few shouts from you as you feel him deeper than he ever has been. You know from how keyed up both of you are that neither of you is going to last long, but you don't want Elvis to come before you. No, you want to come on his cock, drenching it with your release before you feel his warm release coating your insides.

"Mama— gonna come. Gotta— gonna burst. Fuckin' beaver so goddamn tight and ya tits just bouncin' like that all empty, can't even suck 'em." His words are practically gibberish but you can't help but huff out a laugh even as you grab his chin and force him to look at you, his pupils blown, lips shiny with spit and forehead with a sheen of sweat.

"Not till Mama says. Be a gentleman. Be a good boy for Mama," you practically croon at him even as your voice lilts up just a little. "Mama wants to come on your cock. Can you help Mama do that?"

"Yeah, Mama, I—Wanna help ya. Do so goddamn much for me, let me—" His words get eaten up by your lips on his and the moan you let out against them when his hand moves past his belly and your own to play with your clit, the calluses on them adding just enough friction that you don't even have time to warn Elvis before your orgasm comes, your pussy squeezing his cock tighter than it ever has as your release covers his fingers and his cock. You haven't felt the warmth of his come yet, though, and you know he's being good. Being the best boy he could be for the best mama he thinks you are. You struggle to catch your breath but manage to say one word.

"Please."

Somehow he knows what you mean by the word. Somehow he knows it's you giving him permission to finally come and release every bit of tension and insecurity that's kept him up tonight. He comes with a roar— or maybe it's a bark, but all you know is that it sounds so animalistic that it had to have done something good. It had to have achieved something for him just from how you see his head flop back against the pillow as you watch his chest and belly rise and fall with deep breaths.

After what feels like a lifetime you manage to get up and use the bathroom, grabbing a warm washcloth on your way out to try and clean up the mess between you two. Elvis practically looks like he's passed out as you clean up his cock, marveling at how it twitches just a little in your grasp— almost as if to say it wants another round. When you finally slide under the covers, you feel Elvis shift beside you and pull you closer to him, to where your head is over his chest. You can hear the steady but still quick beats of his heart.

"Thank you, Mama."

That whispered bit of thanks puts a small smile on your face. "Any time for my baby boy."

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[insertdisc5]

Devlog #14: Big News Incoming and Illustrations

Hello everyone! Welcome to this month’s devlog!

If you just stumbled upon this, I am Adrienne, also known as insertdisc5! I’m the developer, writer, artist, main programmer, etc of the game. The game being In Stars and Time, a timeloop RPG, which is also the next and final game in the START AGAIN series, following START AGAIN: a prologue (available here!).  You can find out more about In Stars and Time here!!! 

LET’S GET TO IT. This month has some Big News about Big News Incoming! And also some illustrations!

The Big News Incoming first: In Stars and Time will be a part of Future of Play Direct on June 10, 8:00am PT | 11:00am ET | 5:00 pm CET! Future of Play is part of the Summer Games Fest and showcases a lot of incredible indie games, so I hope you’ll tune in. There might be a little something for you to see :> And...

In Stars and Time will also be a part of The Mix on June 8th! The Mix is an amazing games showcase over in LA. There will be a lot of press there, so I’m very excited to get some eyes on ISAT! Please stop by the booth and say hi to the lovely people from my publisher, Armor Games Studios, if you get the chance!

Alright! That’s it for the big news. Now for other big news.

Porting the game to Switch seems to be close to done! Currently, the porting team is taking care of optimization thingy things. The game is playable, but tends to drop frames every so often, so the team is optimizing the game to make sure it’s playing smoothly so Switch players can have the best possible experience! And…

The (hopefully) final round of Japanese localization is underway! Last April, the localization team sent back a couple of sentences that should be reworded now that they have further context. Now that those changes are implemented, they are playing it one more time to make sure everything works as intended!

I sadly don’t have a Fun Gamedev Thing to talk about this month (or… last month either…) because I moved elsewhere back in April and have been taking care of many things so my move went smoothly. Did you know that moving and getting used to a new town is hard work? So, here’s some things I posted on social media in the last couple months!

Here’s an illustration I drew a while back but only posted recently! I imagine that during their journey, everyone must’ve shared a bed at least once. This is also an occasion to show everyone’s sleepytimes clothes. Siffrin on that honk shoo honk shoo fit

Like many people, I have seen the Barbie movie trailer. So of course I had to redraw these iconic frames.

And someone over on Tumblr asked me about how I picked everyone’s names! Here it is copy-pasted for your convenience.

Siffrin: i think. i will wait until the game comes out before saying how i picked their name. ask me again later (it’s not a spoiler its just silly)

Mirabelle: her name was actually Prunille for the longest time, but I kept mixing it up and calling her Bonnie… so I went looking for another fruit sounding name (prunille>prune>plum in french) and Mirabelle fit her perfectly :> (Mirabelle is a kind of plum!)

Isabeau: it’s just a nice name. It actually is a girl name but i refuse to accept it because “beau” is the masculine form for “beautiful”, but either way it fits his character pretty well…

Odile: old sounding french name. that’s it. when i was early in preproduction her name was Isabeau actually (and she had a WAY different personality)

Bonnie: it’s a nickname and not their full name. have i said their full name yet? (checks the wiki) i did. Boniface is just a name that I had never heard before, and I could easily imagine Bonnie not liking it because it sounds “old and lame”. i think as they get older they would like it more and more

This is also a reminder that In Stars and Time has a wiki page. I am so grateful that this is a thing someone made. You know you've made it when your game has a wiki page!!!

That’s all I have to say for today! Let me know if you have any questions, or if there’s any aspect of the game development struggle you’d like me to talk about! See you next time!!!

AND DON’T FORGET TO WISHLIST THE GAME ON STEAM ALSO IT REALLY HELPS BECAUSE STEAM’S ALGORITHM IS MORE LIKELY TO SHOW OFF GAMES WITH A HIGH AMOUNT OF WISHLISTS THAT’S THE REASON WHY GAME DEVS ALWAYS ASK TO WISHLIST!!! OKAY BYE!!!!