#thank you for making me aware of just how fucked up you are

[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.

#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig fic #art donaldson x reader #challengers #challengers fanfic #josh o'connor x reader

[papercorgiworld]

Listening in and panicking

Mattheo, any Tom, Enzo, Theo, Blaise and Draco

Your boyfriend overhears you say something that makes him believe he’s not the one you planned to be with and panics, with each having their own dramatic reaction.

Thanks for the request! Usually it’s the reader that overhear something, so it was fun to focus on the guys overhearing something, misunderstanding it and panicking about it. I actually almost had this finished last weekend but Draco was being difficult and it took me another week to finish this! So I’m happy it’s here! Sending you all a lot of love and kisses. Happy readings!

Mattheo

That the quidditch game hadn’t gone well was a light way of putting it and Mattheo really needed you to brush through his hair so his muscles would instantly relax. For the past few hours Mattheo had been contemplating whether or not to crash your girls' night. He knew he could be demanding and didn’t want to be the asshole boyfriend who ruined this for you. He was especially afraid of your judgy friends who probably didn’t hold Mattheo in a high regard as a boyfriend. However, he was damn near losing it when he heard the Weasley’s fireworks. “They won a game. Not the cup.” He hissed, throwing away his cigarette and surrendering to the desire to be with you.

He could hear the giggling of girls when he approached Pansy’s dorm and took a deep breath as he raised his hand to give a gentle knock on the door. 

Mattheo halts his movement as he hears your voice, he listens intently but is only able to make out some words. “What?! Someone like Cedric? How did you end up dating Mattheo Riddle of all people?” Pansy’s sharp voice sucks out all of Mattheo’s breath and he’s nailed to the floor as he listens to your voice. He can’t really hear all you’re saying because your voice is soft and further away than Pansy’s, but he does make out one thing. “Yeah, sometimes I wonder how I ended up falling in love with someone like Matt.” 

Mattheo’s distrusting nature took this entirely the wrong way and he didn’t even bother to listen in further. After those words his feet take him far away from you. His heart aches as he now believes he’s not the guy you want to be with while you are all he wants for the rest of his life. He feels suffocated by the fear of losing you and rushes out of the castle. 

It’s Fred that spots Mattheo’s appalled face first. “Still not over your epic loss.” He snickers, not aware that Mattheo is more than pleased to run into an excuse to punch. “Get off of my brother!” George screeches before taking a swing at Mattheo. Fuck, I forgot there are always two of them.

A soft knock at the door has all the girls narrow their eyes at the door. “Are we expecting anyone else?” Pansy looks disgusted at the thought of some loser girl wanting to join her elite girls’ night, but as she gets up to open the door it’s Theodore who pushes it open just wide enough to stick his head through it. “You better have a damn good excuse Nott.” Pansy crosses her arms with a death glare that would match your boyfriend’s. “Mattheo.” Theo simply states making your heart skip a beat not just at your boyfriend’s name but at the seriousness of Theo’s voice. “That guy is always in some kind of trouble and not an excuse to come in here.” Pansy snaps, far from interested in whatever mess Mattheo had gotten himself into, but you had already gotten up from your spot among the soft pillows. Pansy lets her head fall, not pleased that you were leaving, but you just give her an apologetic smile and pull your hoodie over your head.

Mattheo rolls his eyes when he sees you enter the hospital wing, but he also couldn’t help but return his gaze to you. In short pyjama shorts and an oversized hoodie that Mattheo didn’t recognize was his, you looked so innocent and for a moment he forgot that you broke his heart. You took a seat next to him on the hospital bed, while studying his injuries. “You’re an idiot.” You whisper, but Mattheo just snorts and lets his head fall back into the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah well, apologies that I’m no Cedric Diggory.” Mattheo says with a quiet but poisonous ring to it. 

Your eyebrows knit together for a few seconds before it hits you. “Unbelievable.” You chuckle and Mattheo looks up at you with pained and confused eyes. How could you think this was funny when it was heartbreaking to him. 

“You sure are no Cedric Diggory.” The soft laugh that follows your words puts Mattheo at ease. “You’re better than anything I had ever hoped for. So Matt, don’t ever jump to conclusions as ridiculous as the ones circling your head now. I love you and I don’t think I could ever love someone else.” Mattheo stares at you with a clenched jaw and glassy eyes. “I really hope so, because I don’t want to lose you.” His voice is raspy and you give him a soft smile, before leaning in. Your boyfriend is more than pleased to feel your touch, deepening the kiss as soon as your lips brush his. 

Tom

You and Tom had been dating for a while and it was clear that you were his girlfriend and he was your boyfriend, but Tom was not one to put labels on relationships especially with all dark things surrounding him. He was losing his patience with Hogwarts and its professor questioning his ambitions. His always stoic and charming attitude had almost been broken by Dumbledore’s intrusive questions. It had upset him  to such a level that he needed you around regardless of your plans.

Agitated and in need of your calming voice Tom is ready to burst in and ruin girls night when he overhears you and your friends banther. “What, him? He’s nothing like Tom?” Some girl squeals. “He’s the exact opposite.” Another laughs. “Yeah, sometimes I wonder how I ended up falling in love with someone like Tom Riddle.” His eyes go dark the instant he hears you say his name. His tongue moves as his mind rages with absolute fury for you. You of all people, you that he needed more than anyone. He wasn’t even your first choice. Suddenly all your friends in the room faint and you jump up, immediately checking for a pulse. It’s in that silent moment of relief when you realise that your friends are just asleep that you hear footsteps outside.

You swing the door open with your wand ready in hand, but when you spot your boyfriend you relax. “You can’t just hex people.” You sigh, you tense up a bit when Tom turns to face you with emotionless eyes. “I can, I'm a wizard.” You knew better than to mess with him when he was as cold as he was now. “What’s going on?” You calmly ask, walking towards him. “Explain to me what you meant with ‘someone like Tom Riddle’?” A featherlight huff of air escapes your lips as you meet his eyes, you can’t keep a smile from tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Someone who hexes four people to sleep because he’ll take any excuse to believe that he is unloved, rather than listen to the sentence as a whole. I fell in love with you Tom Riddle and I don’t intend to fall out of love with you.” Your boyfriend feels almost attacked by your words. You love me? “You mean love as in the big sense of the word?” Tom’s voice is hesitant, failing to sound demanding or charming. “Tom, the word love has no small sense of the word. It’s a word that’s always true and always full of emotion.” 

“Should I wake up your friends?” Tom offers, feeling a bit embarrassed at how he overreacted. You chuckle and walk over to him and he’s happy to wrap his arms around you as you think over his offer. “Nah, I much rather spend the night with you.” His lips search yours for a tender kiss. I love you too.

Enzo

Your boyfriend was insulted when you picked Pansy over him. We could be having a bath together, but no girls’ night. I need a new girlfriend… Who am I kidding, I need just mine asap. Ignoring his friends warnings about how dangerous Pansy could be when someone interrupted her gossip nights, Enzo basically ran to Pansy’s dorm, like he needed you for urgent matters. Then again, in Enzo’s book intimate quality time with you was always an urgent matter. He needed you and he would have you now. “Yeah, sometimes I wonder how I ended up falling in love with someone like Enz.” Enzo’s happy puppy face falss the second he recognises it was you talking. 

The next morning an unwashed, unshaven, not properly dressed Enzo is picking at his food when you jump in to give him a kiss on the cheek. He lets you, but he doesn’t react and you frown, looking over at his friends you see them raise their shoulders. Odd. You shuffle between him and Blaise and turn to face your boyfriend. “Talk to me Enz?” “Not hungry.” He states and without even giving you one look he gets up from the table and leaves. You are absolutely frozen in your seat at what had just happened. “What did you do?” Mattheo asks, unable to hide his curiosity and amusement. No one had ever seen Enzo like this so everyone at the table was dying to know what had happened, but you didn’t have a clue. 

You take breakfast on the go and follow your boyfriend. Quickly stuffing your mouth as you head for his room. You enter and see him lying on his bed with his back turned towards you. “Enz, talk to me, what’s wrong?” You get no response except for a lazy shrug so you decide to move closer and sit by his side. As soon as you do so he turns around so again his back is facing towards you. At this point you were getting slightly annoyed with his behaviour. “Enz-” “Just break up with me already!” Enzo snaps and he jumps up heading for the door.

When you see him angrily swing open the door you snap. “Sit your ass down, Berkshire!” Enzo stops in his tracks and for a second no one moves, not you, not Enzo, not the people in the slytherin common room who were absolutely terrified of what was about to go down. Enzo closes the door and turns to face you. You immediately notice his tired eyes and you walk over to him. “Enz-” Your soft voice breaks your boyfriend’s stubborn attitude. “I’m nothing like the type of guy you wanted… you just accidentally ended up with me.” Your eyebrows knit together and Enzo explains himself further. “I overheard you and your friends talk last night, I wasn’t listening in or anything, I just missed you.” His voice sounds painfully broken and your grab his hands meet his eyes with a sincerity. “I didn’t accidentally end up with you. You charmed me. You spend days flirting your way into my life, my head and my bed… You made me fall in love with you and oh boy did I fall for you, Enzo Berkshire, you and all your charm. Did first year me think to ever end up with you? No. Do I ever want anyone else? No! You are the one, Enzo.” A small smirk tugs on his lips as he can’t hide his happiness anymore. “I’m the one?” Your boyfriend questions sheepishly and you nod, making him smile brightly. “I’m the one.” He repeats, eyebrows wiggling, pleased with that new piece of information. 

Theo

Stealing you away from a girls night wouldn’t be easy, but Theodore had come prepared. He hated himself for being this needy and this cheesy, but he flicked away his cigarette anyways and picked up a small box filled with your favourite snacks. His friends and everyone else at Hogwarts were starting to see that the tough guy act that Theodore had been keeping up for years was cracking as his softer side was becoming more and more visible everyday all because of you, the love of his life. Walking towards Pansy’s dorm a small smile creeps up your boyfriend’s lips as he stares at the snacks in his hands. Salazar, I’m whipped for this girl and I don’t even mind. Your voice interrupts his thoughts and his eyes lift to the door in front of him. “Yeah, sometimes I wonder how I ended up falling in love with someone like Theo.” Pansy snickers “Yeah, he’s nothing like the guy you just described. So weird you fell for him.” You chuckle at Pansy’s words. “Silly, I know.” The word silly rings in Theodore’s mind as he speedwalks away. 

“I so want to marry him.” You laugh and continue dreaming out loud. “He would be such a sweet and sexy husband… oh and omg he would be the greatest dad to our kids. I just know he’ll be so invested with their dreams and hobbies.” You roll on your back and stare up at the ceiling, when you sigh in a dreamy way Pansy smashes a pillow in your face. “Hello! Girls night, stop dreaming about your boyfriend… and instead tell us nasty sex stories or something.” Everyone burst out laughing and you spend the night not having a clue that in Theodore’s mind you two were done.

The next morning you are still unaware of your break up and instead fall in love even more when you find a box filled with your favourite snacks outside of Pansy’s dorm. “That’s just disgustingly adorable.” Pansy jokes as you walk in the direction of the great hall. “Husband material.” You sing and smile at Pansy. However, you stop in your tracks when you spot Theo lazily hanging over some girl's shoulder joking with her about something. He notices you and you want to smile, but he instantly looks away making you frown. You and Pansy walk over to him, but your heart already knows something is wrong. When you stand beside him Theodore reluctantly pulls his attention away from the pretty girl at the table to give you an agitated look. “Look (y/n), I heard you last night, I’m not the guy you planned on ending up with and I don’t mind, but let’s not waste any more time on this relationship and just go our own way.” You stand there absolutely perplexed and you’re absolutely horrified to hear some girls giggling at the scene in front of them. When you finally open your mouth Theo doesn’t even let you speak. “It’s been fun, but really I’m busy here.” 

Never had anyone stomped on your heart and humiliated you like this. With teary eyes you turn around and rush out of the great hall, only to hear Ron hushed voice, “That was brutal.”, followed by loud smack, probably Hermoine. 

Theodore didn’t even look as you walked away, but Pansy’s silent but demanding presence forces him to again look away from the girl he’s trying to play. When Theo looks up Pansy wastes no time. “You absolute baboon!” There’s a silence as she just looks at him like he’s vermin. “First of all you don’t eavesdrop.” She smacks him on his arm. “Secondly, you missed out on the part where she said she wants to marry you.” Smacks him again. “Contrary to her opinion, I think you would be a shit dad considering you are a god awful boyfriend.” Smacks him even harder. “Go apologise!” “But she said-” “Apologise!” Pansy’s shriek horrified everyone in the great hall, but Theodore just stood there confused. He had been so convinced you didn’t really want him, you had just fallen for him but it was never supposed to last and now Pansy’s telling him that you want the same as him, marriage and a life together.

Slowly and slightly terrified Theo opens the door to your room. He’s immediately met with the sound of your sobs and when he spots your figure curled up into a ball his heart breaks even harder than it had done yesterday. You turn around expecting to see Pansy, but you’re shocked to see an apologetic looking Theodore slowly walking towards you. “No!” You snap at him and get up. “Get out!” You yell and throw a pillow at his head. “Please listen, I made a mistake.” You grab the table lamp on your night stand. “Yes, you did by coming here!” He’s quick to grab your hand and keep you from smashing the lamp on his head. “Don’t. You love this lamp.” You girth your teeth, of course Theodore knows you love that lamp, he knows everything about you. You start sobbing again and Theo struggles to find words so he just gets to his knees. “It was a misunderstanding. I thought I was just a fling to you and it broke my heart… and I did a dumb thing.” Your eyes go wide. “A fling? You thought you were a fling?” You can’t believe your dumb ass boyfriend. Theodore takes your hand in his and kisses it softly. “Please forgive me.” He begs in a soft voice. You look at him sitting on his knees, holding your hand, looking lost. “Please.” He urges and you start laughing. “There are no words to describe you, Theodore Nott.” Theo gets up and smiles. “How about future husband? Does that describe me?” He pulls you closer and a cheeky smile forms on his lips. You loved him, but forced your smile into a line. “I’m still mad.” You state and your boyfriend’s confidence fades. “Obviously. Just let me make this up to you.” You better!

Blaise

“I dare you.” M attheo whispered near Blaise’s ear for the millionth time. “Still not playing.” Blaise sighs and Mattheo growls in annoyance. “Why?” Blaise looks up from his book. “I’m not ruining my girlfriend’s girl’s night because you want me to spy on your crush… I also don’t believe they would even let me stay.” Mattheo huffs. “I don’t have a crush, it’s research, and you should at least try to get in there.” Blaise shakes his head no. “I’ll do your homework.” Mattheo offers. “I’ll do it better.” Blaise sings, making Theo chuckle. “I’ll clean your side of the dorm.” Blaise looks up at Mattheo. “Have you cleaned a thing in your life?” Mattheo thinks about it and quickly realises that he needs to think of a different offer. “I’ll shut up for at least 24h hours if you try to get in.” “Oh, please Blaise, do me a favour and just go, so Matt will be silent.” Blaise sighs and gets up. “Fine, I’ll take one for the team.” Draco and Theo both cheer, making Mattheo frown.

As Blaise approaches Pansy’s dorm he hears several girls snicker and followed by lots of chatter that he can’t make out, until he’s right in front of the door. “Yeah, sometimes I wonder how I ended up falling in love with someone like Blaise.” Without a second though Blaise turns on his heels and walks back to his friends. Once there his friends all look up to see his horrified expectation. “You okay mate?” Mattheo asks worriedly and Theodore puts his book down to listen, but Blaise can’t form an answer. What does that mean? Why does she wonder about how she ended up with me? 

Blaise just stares in front of him like he was solving some physics problem and not being very successful. Draco takes a piece of parchment from his study notes and forms it into a ball of paper before throwing it at Blaise who seems to wake up from his thoughts and again turn on his heels. “Odd.” Theodore says and Draco shrugs, but they all continue with their business. 

Blaise is back at Pansy’s door and swings it open this time, making all your friends scream for a second. “What the hell, Zabini!” Pansy snaps. “Why do you wonder how you ended up falling in love with someone like me?” Blaise’s eyes focus on you. “What does that mean, someone like me? You mean my colour, my nerdiness, sporty side, or that I’m a bad boy type of guy? And more importantly, are we done? I mean, I would like to know if you’re breaking up with me.” Pansy crosses her arms and groans, dropping her head before snapping at Blaise. “Did she not just say that she fell in love with you! Seriously, if you eavesdrop, at least do it right!” 

“I’m not breaking up with you!” Blaise sighs in relief and you get up from your seat. Blaise looks around and feels a bit embarrassed when he notices all your friends saw his moment of panic. “And what I meant with someone like you was someone as cool and composed as you… but I guess that facade just fell.” Blaise chuckles as you wrap your arms around his neck. “I guess I panicked for a moment, but that was only because I thought you were going to break up with me. Now I’m cool again.” You  smile and lick your lips. “It was kinda sexy.” You whisper and his hands make their way to your hips as you kiss him. 

“Ew! Get that dude out of my girl’s night!” Pansy expresses her annoyances making you both smile into the kiss. 

Draco

“Girls like it when you interrupt their little parties and show them love in front of all their friends.” Enzo frowns at Draco’s statement. “Your girl might like it but Pansy will not.” Draco huffs and straightens his shoulders. “I’m not afraid of her.” This false play of bravery makes Enzo snort. “Even Matt is scared of Pansy and his father is the dark lord.” Enzo argues, but Draco just waves his arguments away and heads for Pansy’s dorm. 

“The guy you describe is nothing like Draco!” Pansy squeals, shocked by the person you had just described. “Yeah, sometimes I wonder how I ended up falling in love with someone like Malfoy.” You say rather serious. Draco considers whether to continue listening in, but his ego is too bruised. I’m not the kind of guy she wanted… Did she start dating me out of pity or something…

After a few seconds Enzo sees Draco return, clearly upset. “Told you, Pansy’s scaryyy.” Enzo sings as Draco just speedwalks past him and Theodore lounging in the common room. Both Slytherins shrug, but make no move to check on Draco. 

The next morning you joyfully walk, almost skip, to your boyfriend who is rather depressingly resting his head in hand as he stares endlessly in front of him. “Bad night?” You ask in a gentle whisper and his eyes move to yours, but he doesn’t answer, only the corners of his mouth twitch in response. The heartbrokenness is obvious in his eyes and your joy fades away as you sit beside him. “Who is he?” You almost hurt yourself trying to figure out who Draco is asking about. “The guy you actually like?” You raise your eyebrows and his absurd question. “Oh that guy, total moron… YOU! You dummy! I like you, you know that.” You laugh at Draco’s silliness but he doesn’t even smile so after a few seconds your smile fades as well. “I heard you talk yesterday… about this other guy… that’s nothing like me.” There’s a long silence as it takes you a moment to figure out what your boyfriend is talking about. When you do, you immediately want to assure him, but interrupts you before you get the chance. “I just need to know if I still have a chance with you…” His eyes look lifeless as he confesses his fear of losing you and you. 

You sit up straight and cup his cheeks. “Draco Malfoy, I love YOU. There is no other guy! You hear me?” Even though you’re holding his face in your hands he shakes no. “You said-” You sigh. “Draco, before I came to Hogwarts I had a crush on another guy who was nothing like you, but as soon as I met your dumb ass I thought that has to be the love of my life… weird but true.” Draco stares deep into your eyes in an attempt to check if you’re telling the truth. “So you’re not dumping for some tanned six pack bodybuilder type?” You laugh out loud and Enzo and Mattheo raise their eyebrows as they approach you. “Draco is an idiot.” You say smiling. “I could have told you that before you started dating.” Mattheo jokes sitting down opposite of Draco. “Looking for a new boyfriend?” Enzo quips, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “I’m single and ready to mingle.” Draco throws a pancake at Enzo who dodges it elegantly. “Don’t even think about it Enzo! I’m an idiot but not that big an idiot to let her go.” You smile at your boyfriend and he kisses you gently. 

#slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire imagine #enzo berkshire x reader #blaise zabini #blaise zabini x reader #blaise zabini imagine #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #papercorgiworldwritings

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

I don't think you understand

The mer price fic is absolute perfection.

Like I'm talking a literal masterpiece

This fic will stay engraved in my brain forever. You're an absolutely amazing writer. Thank you ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

anon, THANK you. i am actually thrilled to see other people enjoying mer Price and remora reader as much as i do. please please please let me brain dump more about Price taking remora reader back to his home reef to meet the rest of shark mer 141:

SOAP is enamored instantly because you're so fucking grabbable.

within moments of seeing you peek out from behind Price's tail, he darts around and snatches you up with greedy hands. you're so small!! so tiny and cute when you squirm. and you make noises. 

he handles you like a toy until Price barks at him to cut it out. he does (and Price makes him promise not to be so rough with you; you're fragile, he claims) but Soap is incorrigible.

he follows you for days afterward. just obsessed. he loves chasing your silver tail as you dart around the reef, trying to hide from him. when he catches up to you, you have little choice but to give in and let him manhandle you. he certainly toes the line of whatever Price meant when he said no rough play, you little shit, i mean it.

he pushes the limits of your docile nature. when you do eventually reach the end of your patience and dart out of his hands just to get a break from his grabby claws, guess what? you've triggered his prey drive and he gives chase. he catches you, of course, and then before he can stop himself, he bites you.

your squeal brings Price out into the open instantly and Soap gets an earful again. he grins at you the whole time as you hide over Price's shoulder.

after that, Soap gets a little craftier about it. he eases up just enough to figure out exactly how playful (rough) he can be before you can't take any more. he learns how to stop just shy of making you shriek again. Price is aware, but he's a little too indulgent to stop it. he's happy to let Soap have his fun as long as he doesn't break you. you just have to suck it up. that indulgent nature is how you ended up with Price in the first place, after all.

goes without saying, but Soap is the first one to use you as a sex toy.

GHOST seems to take zero interest in you at first. you're not the sharpest urchin in the tide pool, are you? you can't be if you're here willingly. he figures you won't stick around long, and if you do, you won't stay intact.

you attempt to take up grooming his skin and tail and teeth as you do with the others. he moves away from you without a word, lashing his scarred tail to re-settle himself several feet away.

if you follow and try to groom him again, you earn a deep growl.

you dart off the moment he voices that rumbling displeasure. he notes your skittishness around him and uses it to make you leave him alone.

you, however, have a job to do. you won't be scared off that easily.

after he chases you off that way a few times, you begin to find him and simply sit near him. mirroring him. no big deal. instead of grooming him, you use the time to groom yourself. can't keep everyone else clean if you're grimy, after all.

he notices you and growls to warn you off again. you pretend not to hear.

he flicks his tail in irritation, considers cuffing you over the head to teach you a lesson, but you're too far away to reach without kicking his whole big self up into the water to move several feet. so he elects instead to turn over and ignore you. you keep this up for several days. you sit a little closer every time.

one day, you finish cleaning your own tail fin and casually begin to clean his. he growls. you pause. when he stops and does nothing further, you resume your work. he growls again, and you continue grooming him as if you don't hear him. he keeps growling, but once you begin to run your claws over a stubborn patch of skin to dislodge some stuck grit that's been bothering him, his growling fades into grumbling. and then silence. he lets you keep at it. victory.

this becomes a habit. you seek him out (never the other way around) and typically find him lazing on the floor of some cave or sunning in the reef's shallows. you set to work grooming him thoroughly. all business. he grumbles and growls occasionally when you move his arm or tug your fingers through his hair, but he never stops you.

one day, Soap comes looking for you and finds you in the middle of this little cleaning ritual. Soap nudges you away, insisting you instead let him chase you around the reef. but the moment your hands leave Ghost's rough skin and he hears you protest, he opens his eyes and snaps his teeth at Soap.

Soap pulls back (and so do you) until Ghost grasps your lil wrist and drags you back down wordlessly to where you were sitting and cleaning his shoulder.

Soap smirks at him. Ghost glares back.

"you got something to say, then say it."

"here i thought you were toleratin' it for her sake. seems i misjudged the situation."

"there is no situation."

"whatever you say."

Soap leaves with a flick of his tail. you're so pleased that, when you're finished grooming Ghost, you burrow yourself between his arms as he lays on his side. you nuzzle into his neck and bunt your head up against him, practically purring now that you know you've apparently won him over.

he grabs you, pretending to be disgruntled, but then instead of releasing you he crushes you against his chest again and settles in for a nap. no, you don't get to leave.

GAZ wonders what exactly is going on inside your head. it doesn't escape his notice that your """instincts""" seem to have you by the throat in this situation. but he suspects you're leaning a bit more into that whole brainless servant thing than you're letting on.

he's perfectly happy to let you groom him, flatter him, fetch him whatever baubles or snacks he'd like at the moment; he's perfectly polite to you, too. really likes it when you butter him up. tell him he's got the sharpest teeth and the strongest muscles and the fastest tail in the reef and he'll listen to you for hours, preening in the sunlight as you clean the grime off his fins.

plus, he praises you too, and you love that. that's why it takes you so long to notice he's watching you much more closely than anyone else is.

see, you've already disarmed Price. Soap sees you as a toy more than a fellow mer. Ghost cares more about finding the best places to lurk around than understanding the little mer that shares their reef now. it's fascinating--how you've successfully passed yourself off as a silly, stupid little fish. the more he watches you, analyzes you, the more he wonders what exactly you're getting out of this.

when you groom him each day, he asks you questions. casual ones. are you enjoying the reef? what games do you like to play? how fast can you swim? how many other mer have you met? are you eating enough? what's your favorite food?

it's enough to make you wary, but then, he seems harmless. you're honest with him. it pays off, because when you tell him how much you like the taste of those little brown seabirds that dip into the reef from time to time, you're shocked the next day to find one of those very seabirds sitting dead--neck cleanly snapped--just for you in the shallow alcove next to where Price sleeps (and you by extension).

you find Gaz that instant and insist it's too kind a gift; you can't accept it. what you can't tell him is that it's not a good idea for you to eat in front of them. you eat scraps, and you eat them where of them can see. that's the deal--obviously you do what you do for these four sharks in exchange for protection and ostensibly for food, but you need to avoid looking like you're taking more than your fair share. and to sharks, a species that is notoriously food-aggressive, your fair share must be vanishingly small.

he just smiles at you--so disarmingly that you flounder for a moment. somehow he convinces you to keep the kill.

he begins to turn up--looking amused but not surprised--when you steal scraps of food after the group has had its fill of a fresh kill. it makes you nervous for him to see you with food in hand (much less to watch you eat) but he scoffs at the idea of holding it against you. 

at some point, he begins to bring you fresh meat himself. this is-- it's unacceptable. you're supposed to be the one working while he rests. he's not allowed to give you that kind of comfort. if you're not earning your keep, after all, you don't have a place here. you push his gifts away, busying yourself with some other task. he insists. you decline.

"you're refusing me?" he asks, feigning surprise. "i thought that went against your instincts."

you fluster, ruffling up in what he assumes is a pout. he's trapped you in a catch-22. ultimately, you have to accept the stupid meat-gift because it's what he wants. you find this makes you more irritable than it should. he smirks at you, which serves to irritate you more.

he pulls you into his lap as you eat. and he thinks it's so cute the way you scowl the whole time.

from then on, whenever you act a little too stupid for his liking, he pries and pokes and prods until he draws out that other, haughtier side of you. he has a knack for frustrating you. he loves to sass you, and when you finally drop the act and sass him back, he falls a little bit more in love with you every time.

...

more mer au / masterlist tag

#mine #snippet #mermay #mermay 2024 #merman #x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #tf 141 x reader #john price #captain price #captain john price #mermaid reader #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #monster romance #monster x reader #simon ghost riley #poly!141 #ask

[callofdudes]

So, uh, I was watching Bad Boys 2 with my dad and when the shootout scene happened and Marcus accidentally got shot in the ass I couldn’t help but wonder after I was done LMFAOing; how the COD boys (or the guys from 141 if you have a character limit) would react to and deal with having been shot in the ass? Especially if their S/O or best friend was there?

Ouchie ouchie. Here ya go anon! Sorry it took so long!

Getting shot in the ass.

Fucking humiliated.

First off, it hurt and oh boy he would not talk to anyone. If you're not in the immediate vicinity of medical attention he is going to have to be taken care of by one of you.

He'd probably trust either you or Price. He loves Johnny but not enough to touch his whole ass.

If you're his spouse you will 100% try to make jokes to calm him down, and it doesn't end up making it any better. Simon laying on his stomach writhing in pain while you've got him pantsed.

He's never speaking to any of you again. He'd rather be buried alive than have you bandaging his whole asscheek so he doesn't bleed everywhere.

"Are-fuck! Are you done yet!?" He growled, turning into a whine near the end because he's in pain. Come on man...

"Almost Simon, just hang in with me ok?"

He whines, and you continue to as gently as you can patch the wound. And like a meanie you're trying not to laugh the whole time.

When you're done you'll pat his butt gently and help him up. "Fuck you, and fuck that last 20 minutes of my life." He winces, attempting to stand.

"It's an occupational hazard y'know-"

"In my ass. MY BLOODY ARSE!"

"Well it's not bloody anymore...??"

Yeah he's never speaking to you. Or the others. He'll go back to that coffin where he was safe and his beautiful ass wasn't being threatened 24/7.

When you get back if you tell anyone he's suffocating you in your sleep. Not like the medical team will let him go. Surgery to get the bullet out of his arse and then was hurting for weeks.

Glaring constantly because now he has one of those butt pillows that you'd sit on after a BBL. And the recruits are bugging him because, "Got a lift Lt??" "Thought it was already big enough."

His arse is a point of contention for him and now he's being pointed out for the masses.

"You... You want me to help??"

"Nope." He dragged his leg, limping his way as blood spilled.

"You've uh, got a hole in your-"

"I'm very well aware!" He grimaced, trying to ease down on his side. "Other room." He demands.

"I can help-"

"OTHER ROOM."

"Yes sir."

You step away and let Price undo his belt and survey the damage himself. The last time he was bleeding from his arse his military dad was spanking him upside down and sideways.

By the time he realizes he's going to need a little help he's already regretting his life. He's nearly had his balls shot off before, this shouldn't be news to him, but also, why....

Begrudgingly he calls you back in after messing with it enough it hurts twice as much as before.

So you grab some bandages and get to work.

"Don't-"

"I'm very well aware of where my hands are going captain, you're fine."

"Gross."

"You're bleeding."

"Thank you for stating the obvious." He rubbed his forehead, sighing.

You feel less inclined to snicker at Price because the poor man is just trying to make a living fighting crime. He doesn't deserve this. His beautiful soft ass doesn't deserve this.

When you get back he is just wanting the bullet out by that point so he doesn't fight medical. They get the bullet out and he is taking painkillers like they're going out of style. (No, not in an unhealthy way)

Will probably stay between his room and his office. He wants to do work very badly and hasn't enjoyed sitting around doing nothing for long periods of time.

Can't wear his favorite pants now because they're tighter and the seam cuts right into the stitches. Sweatpants and butt pillow it is until he's out of this hell.

Most recruits know not to poke the bear, unlike you. Or Simon.

"Whew, that was close." You panted and looked at Johnny with relief. "No kidding." But as the adrenaline wore off, Johnny felt lightheaded, and fell to his side.

"Ow-" He winced, his leg feeling numb. You quickly rushed to him and looked him over. He wasn't shot anywhere... Oh. Oh, no never mind, yes he was.

"Johnny..."

"Yeah..?"

"You're shot."

Johnny followed your gaze and saw.

Surprisingly calm. Like, out of everyone he doesn't panic as much. Pulls up his shirt into his mouth and tells you to get it out.

You're hesitant because it's trying to pull a bullet out of someone's ass. And pulling a bullet out is never... Fun. But he trusts you, even if his cheeks are glaringly red from utter embarrassment.

But he doesn't want anyone else to do it for some reason, so you do your best.

Long story short, it did not go well. You ended up messing with the wound that his right ass cheek was so swollen. He looked like an idiot. Laying on his stomach in pain while waiting for Evac.

"I'm sorry..." You rubbed his shoulder.

You'd pulled his pants down further, while still being respectful. But man if he didn't look stupid, and it looked like it hurt. One cheek much bigger than the other, red and swollen.

Johnny promised to never get shot in the ass again. After he was put on bed rest because he had an infection. So uh... That was a fun adventure.

"Why the hell did you try to dig the bullet out of my ass??" He looked over at you when you visited him.

"You told me to do that! I told you it was a bad idea."

"Oh yeah..." He sniffled and crossed his arms, pouting his lip.

"Johnny.. come on, it'll get better."

"Well it can't get worse. Can it?"

"Ow!! Bloody- shit!" He slid down a wall and looked down at his side, expecting the stinging pain he felt to have hit his leg, he was dismayed to find the bullet had got him in the ass.

"Oh fucking of course!" He groaned and tried his best to hold something over the wound while still getting bullets pelted at him.

"How're we looking, sergeant??"

Kyle looked back briefly and then adjusted his gun. "Fine! But I've got a bloody hole in my arse!"

"Say again?"

Kyle groaned. Falling out of helicopters, getting shot in the ass, what was next huh?

"I've. Got. A. Bullet. In my ass!!"

Mortified when the others get to him and see he was not lying. Kyle must have just about the worst luck because what the hell is this?? They got him to medical and they did indeed confirm he had a bullet where the sun don't shine.

His perfect, pretty, unscarred butt was now about to be dug into to get a bullet out. How humiliating. He had bad stuff happen to him, but this he refused to talk about.

"How're... How're you feeling?" You asked after he came out of surgery. Still high on drugs, Kyle glared at you. "Don't even..."

"Don't what?" You snickered slightly.

"Oh fuck off..."

You smiled a little and sat down. "Hey, you'll recover. It sucks, but you've gotten through worse."

"Bullet in the ass."

"Had a bullet in the ass."

"It was still there at one point. That was my reality, y/n!"

You lovingly shushed him with a glass of water.

Kyle did not say a word about it. Even when he needed a pillow to help him sit after the surgery, he never pointed it out. And the others saw the look, if they said anything Kyle would drag them behind a shed and suffocate them with said pillow.

And therefore, for everyone's collective safety, it was never brought up.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #captain john price #ghost x reader #call of duty headcanons #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick #john mactavish headcanons #john mactavish x reader #john price headcanons #captain john price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod headcanons

[wynnyfryd]

@messessentialist told me her friend called to rant about spotting an “upsettingly beautiful boy in a tj maxx” and i vomited 1200 words about it, enjoy

—

fic idea: chrissy and eddie work together at tj maxx. one afternoon a guy comes in who’s so hot that it kinda just pisses eddie off? bc like, who does this gorgeous asshole think he is??? coming in here and popping his hip at eddie’s counter, like, does he even know how uncomfortable it is to start chubbin’ up in skinny jeans?? that shit chafes!

so eddie gets all flustered and responds by getting an attitude with the guy because he has zero chill (and also because the dude’s iced coffee is sweating a ring all over eddie’s counter, and so help him if his manager gets on his ass one more time about keeping his station tidy—)

“did you need help finding anything else today?” eddie sneers. “coasters, perhaps?”

upsettingly hot guy looks confused for a second before he follows eddie’s pointed glance at the plastic starbucks cup leaving a cold puddle on the laminate, and then he sneers right back; adjusts the ray bans nestled in his perfect honey brown hair and looks eddie up and down — long, slow, one eyebrow lifting in subtle elitist disapproval.

“what?” he snorts, “hot topic wasn’t hiring?”

oh, fuck you very much!

so eddie’s all ‘nemesis acquired’ and holds the biggest grudge of all time. makes a sworn enemy and a boogeyman out of the guy, turns him into urban legend, starts blaming the Upsettingly Beautiful Man for every little thing that goes wrong in his life — at work, at home, at band practice; no place is safe from the dreaded UBM.

“he’s not a fucking cryptid!” gareth snaps one day at rehearsal, chucking a drumstick at eddie’s head. “just track him down and bone already so you can shut the hell up!”

“wouldn’t he just talk about him more after they have sex?” jeff wonders, to which gareth narrows his eyes and raises his second drumstick as a threat.

meanwhile, eddie’s cute coworker chrissy (who he’s become surprisingly good friends with, to the point of referring to her as his work wife) gets a girlfriend. robin’s sooooo pretty, and soooo nice, and sooooo tall, eddie, did you know how tall she is?

yes, chrissy, he’s supremely aware of a stranger’s five-foot-eight-and-a-half stature now, thank you.

“you have to meet her!” chrissy gushes, bouncing up onto her toes.

eddie hangs another shirt. “you have to chill.”

“hey!” she pouts, pixar princess cute. “you wouldn’t tell the sun to dull its shine, would you?”

“i mean, i would, but i doubt the giant ball of plasma cares what i want.”

“okay, whatever, eeyore.” she rolls her eyes but she physically can’t stop beaming even as she does it, and eddie finds himself melting under it — some sort of radiant area attack coming from the apples of this girl’s cheeks, he swears, because the next thing he knows he’s agreeing to go to rando new girlfriend’s housewarming party this weekend so he can meet her properly.

only he doesn’t get to meet her properly, because when he shows up to the party the two bedroom apartment is packed with people he’s never seen, and it’s loud as fuck in here and he’s sweating through his leather from the six flights of stairs he had to climb to reach the place, so he steps through a sliding door out to the balcony and lo and behold, if it isn’t Upsettingly Beautiful Man looking upsettingly beautiful — positively fucking divine, actually, the last wisps of fuchsia sunset catching the gold streaks in his hair and dotting the tip of his flawless nose. Seriously, does this dude have any flaws? A scar, a birthmark, an unsightly ingrown hair? Eddie can’t even see a single blackhead for fuck’s sake.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer” the dude mutters, turning to look at him, and, “oh, my god, you again?”

“uh.”

“i’ve got a fucking coaster this time,” the guy says, lifting his solo cup and giving it a little shake to point out the cork round sitting underneath it, “so if that’s what you came out here to berate me for, then you’ll have to think of something else.”

“uh,” eddie says again, because he has no idea what brought this on but he’s pretty sure it has shit all to do with him, and pretty boy’s really working himself up now, arms moving in sharp gestures as he paces back and forth on the short balcony.

“not that it even matters if i didn’t have a coaster, because this is my house! i can do what i want with my own fucking stuff in my own fucking apartment, nance, i don’t— uh…”

pretty boy’s face blossoms rose petal red, a heavy blush creeping up his jawline as he catches himself mid rant and folds in on himself, crossing his arms over his chest with a sheepish expression.

eddie’s always had a thing for shepherding.

“i’m listening,” he says, popping a cigarette in his mouth and holding the pack out in offering. “if you care to vent.”

the guy — steve, eddie finds out — tells him all about his controlling ex-girlfriend as they work their way through two cigarettes each, the sun slipping away to reveal a full topaz moon, big and low and close, ripe citrus bending the branch of a tree. nance was a real piece of work by the sounds of it, and eddie feels like an absolute shit for the way he treated steve, who had apparently just gotten dumped the night before they met and had been out shopping for a “please take me back” present.

“like that was ever gonna work,” steve mumbles, ashing over the railing. “pathetic. anyway, sorry i was rude to you that day or whatever.”

“you weren’t.”

“nah, i was.” steve shifts his weight, knocks their shoulders together. “not that you didn’t deserve it.”

“yeahhhh,” eddie agrees, cringing at himself. “sorry.”

“all good. so what’s your story then, huh? who pissed in your cheerios that day?”

eddie blames the alcohol fumes wafting from steve’s cup — a justification that makes perfect sense and would totally hold up in a court of law — for what he says next.

“honestly? you.”

steve’s face is so cartoonishly offended that eddie busts out laughing, eyes crinkling, head thrown back.

“oh, so you’re just an asshole,” steve nods sagely. “first cute guy to flirt with me in six weeks is a lunatic. love that for me.”

“no, i—” eddie laughs, “okay, we’re coming back to how you think i’m cute, but i just meant, uh-”

oh, fuck it. eddie’s never been good at holding his cards close to the chest. more of a 52 pick up kinda guy, historically, and why change now?

“you were so gorgeous it, like, genuinely upset me for a second,” eddie admits, running his tongue over his lip. he stubs out his cigarette; turns to look right at steve. “like, uh, like cuteness aggression or some shit.”

steve mirrors his posture, leaning an elbow on the railing, nearly chest to chest. “so you are crazy,” he smiles.

“that’s correct.” eddie swallows.

steve moves in to close the gap. “good crazy?”

“fun crazy, so i’m told.”

“i’m gonna kiss you if that’s cool.”

“very”

the kiss tastes like ripe citrus

#steddie #steddie headcanons #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #buckingham #enemies to lovers

[idiswhadidis]

୨ৎ 🇼​​🇭​​🇦​​🇹​ ​🇹​​🇪​​🇦​​🇸​​🇪​​🇸​, ​🇱​​🇴​​🇻​​🇪​​🇸​ ​🇪​​🇦​​🇨​​🇭​ ​🇴​​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​​🇷​ ୨ৎ

having to sit with your enemy at the engagement dinner of your brother couldn't be that bad right? besides you should give your mother credits.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ୭˚. ᵎᵎ prince Jungwon x female.reader princess ​ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ ୭˚. ᵎᵎ sim jake and jungwons sister i choose to name her Jia

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ ୭˚. ᵎᵎ historical: prince, princess, queen, king etc. fluff, jungwon is in readers opinion the enemy, actually pretty romantic?, jungwon is full on a gentleman (get me a man like him), friends/enemies to?, i would say jungwon is a bit possessive ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ୭˚. ᵎᵎ 1,8K

ɴᴏᴛᴇ ୭˚. ᵎᵎ i didn't know that i would update a fiction this quickly but after the long ass pause i had, this is overdue lol, i actually wanted to include some angst but i couldn't bring myself to (my heart is too soft)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“I just know this day will suck the energy out of me, who even decided that I have to come along just to see my brother getting engaged, like happy for him but not really my business” you say irritated sitting in the carriage that drives in the direction of the Yangs, your mother listening to your little tantrum,

“Honey, the only reason you don’t want to go is because of Prince Jung-”, widening your eyes at her, cupping your ears preventing from hearing the name of the boy “don’t say his name, it literally brings bad luck” making your mother laugh,

“Prince Jungwon is literally the sweetest soul I’ve ever met, he presents perfectly his mother the Queen, so please get along with him just for today” pouting at her, making her eyebrows raise a bit so you sigh and nod slumping down, the dress you’re wearing making it a bit difficult tho. “But you know…” your mother starts, “what teases, loves each other.” “Mother!” 

As the carriage comes to a halt, and the chauffeur opens the door making you aware that you’re in the Yang’s residence. Breathing in and out switching from your goofy personality to your “Princess of Sim” personality, though life.

Setting foot on the ground straightening the wrinkles on your dress amazed by how the dress compliments your curves.

“Welcome Queen and Princess of Sim” the Queen herself aka Jungwons mother, greets you both smiling widely, your mother and the Queen have been friends for decades plus your father and his father so it’s literally perfect having a son (your brother) and a daughter (Jungwons sister) marrying each other, perfect match as they call it.

“Dear, how long was it? you have grown to a gorgeous lady Y/n”, blushing at her words, even tho you’ve seen her 3 months ago on the masquerade ball, you don’t think your appearance has changed that much since then, but like you will never shut down a compliment so you thank her slightly bowing down and complimenting her as well. 

“I have to agree, Mother,” making your eyes roll “indeed absolutely gorgeous,” says the boy next to the Queen, her son Yang Jungwon, the boy who makes your (love) life hard.

Making your mom stab your ribs with her elbow intending for you to say something nice, side-eyeing her, you muster a smile turning to him- “Thanks Jungwon, you look handsome as well” having him laugh at your response making you want to punch him.

“Lets get inside, everything is already prepared.”

As the Queens go their own way catching up to each other's life leaving you alone on the stairs with Jungwon, “Missed me Princess?” making you scoff as if,  “I was taught not to lie” walking past him, making him smile a bit, following you to the venue where the engagement dinner will be held.

Stepping foot in to the venue having your mouth wide open, the servants did a great job everything is perfectly decorated in beige and brown, flowers are literally hanging down the ceiling like wow, every dinner table is completely full you didn’t thought that everyone in this fucking country would be invited.

“Let's go” Jungwon says, having his hand hovering on your back guiding you to the main table where your families sit, seeing your brother and his fiance,

and also noticing that the only two seats left are next to each other, sighing in disbelief, you wouldn’t be surprised that your mothers planned this. 

Having Jungwon bring out the chair as a sign to help you sit down makes you look at him “what is your agenda today, why so nice?” him laughing out a breath “I’m always nice to you, you just refuse to see it.” having his hand on your waist bringing you to sit down, looking at him stunned as he sits down himself.

Looking around the table, seeing some familiar faces, like your favorite cousin who is already waving excitedly at you, sticking the tip of your tongue playfully out and giving him the peace sign.

Hearing the sound of something clanking against glass has your head turn to the left to see your mothers trying to get the attention from everyone.

“Welcome everyone, I’m happy that everyone could make it, today we will celebrate the engagement of Prince Sim Jake and Princess Yang Jia.” Jungwon’s mother turns to your mother letting her know to continue “Let’s have fun and cherish our both childrens luck.” Having everybody clap in happiness, looking at your brother and Jia feeling happy for them knowing your brother had a crush since childhood for her. 

“Now, dinner is about to be served. Eat as much as you want, our chefs would be disappointed if there are any leftovers.” Making your stomach grumble ready to devour food.

“Did you know that Jia always had a crush on your brother?” Jungwon breaks you out of your thoughts, looking at him with wide eyes. Those are actually news to you “Wait really? I knew that Jake had a crush on her but this makes it even more cute that both had a crush.” your lips pouting- “that reminds me of someone” he says, having direct eye contact, looking at him confused “who?”, “you will know” blinking at him, question marks dancing around your head.

After you have eaten your dress has gotten much tighter, once again a reminder that you hate dresses, standing up wanting to go to the restroom to re-tighten it so that you are not on the brink of death. Problem is, it takes two persons to tie a dress so who? Looking at the persons who you would trust are completely busy with eating or conversations. The only one who’s free is the boy next to you, shaking your head not in hell, you can do this by yourself.

“If someone asks, I’m in the restroom real quick” you say quickly to him making him nod, standing up and dashing to the restroom trying to untie the dress at the back. God damn it who thought a dress that tight would be okay for an occasion which includes food. Looking into the mirror to see your back, seeing that the strings of the bow are literally tucked into the nest of other strings, great what now.

Hearing the door crack makes you look at it praying it would be a polite girl who could help you, instead you got a man to be specific, Jungwon.

“The fuck are you doing here? in the girl washroom to be specific”, “Figured you would need help retightening that dress”, “what? how did you know-”, 

“I knew by your expression that you were uncomfortable, then I saw how your hand was sitting on your belly probably trying to breathe properly and then you tried to open the strings while dashing away.” 

Blinking at him feeling suddenly butterflies in your stomach, “wow sherlock, didn’t know you know me that well'', “don't act so surprised princess'' he says walking to your standing figure, making you gulp a bit harder than you intended. 

Him standing behind you looking at you through the mirror “May I?”, making you nod mumbling out a tiny “yes”, propping your hands on the counter of the sink for better support. 

It was silent as he reached for the strings untightening the bow and step by step he untightened all strings, making you finally breathe out in a satisfied sigh “you know when I agreed with my mother I truly meant it.”

making your brows furrow what does he mean-

oh-

OH.

Looking up to the mirror seeing him already looking at you makes you flustered, wtf? Where does this come from now? you’re supposed to dislike him. He is the reason why your love life does not exist, having him always ruin your dates just because he doesn’t want to see you happy, the masquerade ball for example your date literally ditched you after he talked to Jungwon.

looking back down hiding the blush on your face, fuck are you supposed to say something back? I mean you weren't lying either he is really handsome especially in the tuxedo he wears complimanting his body perfectly-

feeling the strings of your dress being put back in a bow letting you know he’s done, suddenly feeling both of his hands on each side of your waist turning your around still looking down avoiding his eyes, since when are you shy around him? this didn’t suit you trying to move, his grip tightens. still looking not at him, has him lifting your chin with his thumb and index finger making you look at him unwillingly.

him moving closer to your face “what are you doing?” you whisper as you glance at his lips “something i should have done way earlier” he said barely closing the gap between your lips “is this okay?” he asks so politely, fuck why is he so perfect? you don't answer so you crash your lips against his, making him squeeze your waist trying to push you more onto him cradling your neck into his hand deepening the kiss having you bring your hand as well onto his neck going through his fluffy hair pulling slightly on it making him moan.

he slips away from your lips kissing down your chin to your throat finding your sweet spot making you moan out gripping a bit harder onto his hair “fuck j-jung-” making him nibble on it more leaving a tiny mark, kissing back up to your lips making you sigh in comfort.

“God I wish I could do this everyday” he says between kisses breaking you out of your trance making you break the kiss, you look at him catching your breath your eyes blown out, “what just happened” you say whispering touching your lips noticing that they are a bit swollen. Him holding one of your cheek “I don't know if this was prove enough but I’ve been wanting to tell you that I'm madly in love with you Y/n”

You think for a second, connecting dots looking at him suspiciously “Is that why you tried to ruin every date I’ve ever had?” him smiling sheepishly at you “I’m sorry I had to, I was terrified that someone would steal my girls heart” making your heart melt my god what's happening to you,

"Your girl?”

“I called you my girl since forever nothing will change that-”

“-so will you let me take you out on a date, which I will not sabotage?” 

“When you ask me so nicely then I don’t have a choice besides to say yes” making him smile catching your lips again.

As you both head out of the restroom, hands intertwined, both of your lips still a bit swollen, the first person to catch you both is of course.. who else.. your mother. Wiggling her eyebrows playfully, she knew this day would come like she said “what teases, loves each other.” 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

#enhypen #enha #enhypen ff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen story #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x you #yang jungwon #jungwon #jungwon x reader #jungwon scenarios #jungwon imagines #jungwon fluff #jungwon fanfic #enha x reader #enha fluff #enha imagines #jake imagines #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 79)

Alexia Putellas x Character (35) - Ridley Part One

Masterlist (other parts here)

((**4.5k**))

This is PART ONE of TWO for Ridley. You DO NOT have to read this! This is simply me getting out what's been in my head for a while about Ridley and her darker side and military ties. Although this one isn't bad at all, part two will be a lot more graphic and morally grey.

Any Australian military mentions such as squadron types and specialties are 100% real and researched.

Feel free to skip these two Ridley parts as you won't be missing anything in the main story. :)

RIDLEY POV PART ONE

Ridley’s body was thrown into the straps of her five-point harness relentlessly. She was sitting in the jump seat of a C17 – a last minute military aircraft she’d caught from London to Dubai. She just needed to escape. To get far away from her in the hopes that it would stop her from hurting Alexia. She wasn’t too concerned with hurting herself.

“The CAT is easing, Commander,” came the voice of the pilot through her head set. “We’re almost through it.”

CAT – Clear Air Turbulence. Ridley was tired, but she couldn’t sleep. She was seated in the cargo hold which was devoid of any other human except herself. “Copy.”

The flight was 7 hours long, and most of it she’d spent staring a thousand-yard stare into that void of the cargo hold just thinking about her. Alexia. The way she’d whispered, moaned, begged for her. The way she felt, the way she tasted and fucking moved with her. Her sounds when she whimpered, when she’d was pushed to her limits… when she came. It had broken Ridley, like she knew it would. How could she ever want anything less than all of her after that? No, she deserved more. She deserved the whole fucking world, and not the monster she was. Alexia had no idea what she was getting herself into with her, and she needed to protect her from herself.

They landed at 2pm local time and she caught a lift into town with one of the senior ranked officers on base. Ridley was known in the military world, and she’d been around. Met a lot of people. Worked hard and climbed the ranks. She was respected for her accomplishments, and now could come and go as she pleased, as she held such a high security clearance.

“Are you sure, Commander?” The officer asked.

Ridley nodded. “Here is perfect. Thanks for the lift.”

“Give us a call if you need anything. Anything at all.”

He left and she waited for him to do so. Only when he was gone did she jump on public transport to get to where she was actually going. She was used to frequenting Dubai for a few reasons, one of which being that it was central and in her line of work, that was essential.

She exited the train and moved over to the bus line, making sure she wasn’t followed as she went. Always aware. Always watching. Avoiding cameras and drawing attention. The bus moved through six stops and she stepped off just before the doors closed. From there she walked to her destination, stopping at a café on the way to pick up some sweets. A popular local sweet dish in Dubai that she loved was knafeh, which she bought along with filled donuts which were a must.

She paid for her items, adding a bottle of water to the list and was off down the street. She arrived at her destination at around 2:45pm and stopped outside, looking up at it. It was a mechanic shop. And not just any mechanics, the best in town. Anyone who knew Dubai knew that expensive cars were a given. Almost everyone had one. And this was the place they all fought for bookings at.

She walked into the open floor planned warehouse which was lined down the outer edges with cars on different levels, each getting work done, and each more expensive than the last. Ferrari, Lamborghini, Aston Martin, Bugatti, Maserati, Rolls Royce. She walked through and acknowledged each nod she received from the people who worked there. She came upon the office of the owner and knocked twice, opening before he answered.

“Ridley!” The voice boomed. Ali was a rich man, though not the egotistical type. In fact, he was rather the opposite. Most of the money he made went straight back into humanitarian efforts and other philanthropic endeavours.

She greeted him with a kiss on the cheek as she placed the knafeh on his desk in front of him.

“For you.”

He hummed as he looked her up and down. “You seem different…” he said in a strong Arabic accent.

Of course she did. She was fucking heartbroken. Grieving. In love with Alexia and forcing herself to break her heart. Plus, she hadn’t slept in 46 hours and had been wearing the same clothes she’d thrown on hastily as she’d left her in bed 9 hours ago.

“I haven’t slept in a few days.”

“No, no. There’s something else…” he murmured, still wondering. Eventually he gave up like people usually did. Ridley was a closed book. “But alas, I think I’m tired myself. I’m guessing you’re here for that?” He asked, gesturing to the wall.

She nodded.

“I was told you weren’t coming. Are you staying for long?”

“Unsure.”

“You’re welcome as long as you’d like. Anything you need.”

Anything you need. She heard that during almost every conversation when she was in Dubai. Another reason she enjoyed the place so much.

He smiled as he opened the box and she forced herself to give one in return. It’s not that she didn’t want to – just that it was difficult to fake any sort of positive emotion at this point.

Ridley turned and moved through the second door in his office. The one that was barely used. It led to the part of the warehouse that no one was allowed to enter except Ali and a select few individuals. The individuals she was there to meet.

She entered to the darkened part of the warehouse and was greeted by four heads turning towards her with the majority of their expressions showing they were caught off guard. All except the one person standing. The big guy.

He stood in front of the trio with a projector behind him, and his hands held behind his back with discipline. Beckett. That's what everybody else called him. That or Lieutenant. To her, he was Becks.

The trio sat casually in front of him, their chairs met with desks either side for their notes and food. Their faces spread into grins as she approached, placing the donuts on the table.

“Oh no, she’s here! Fucking knew this was another BOHICA,” said the little guy known as Fuzzy. His real name was Kaupa and he was SASR for Australian Army. They all were. Together, the group was made up the Fourth Squadron of the Special Air Service Regiment, though the government had never acknowledged their existence, nor ever would.

To the public, there were four official Squadrons. The 1st, 2nd and 3rd were sabre Squadrons, made up of 20 troopers with differing expertise, and they rotated through counter terrorism/special recovery and warfighting/reconnassaince. Then there was the 152nd Squadron designed for electronic warfare and to support the sabre squadrons. There were more, of course, though these four were the basis of the SASR for Australia and were always closely supported by the Australian Secret Intelligent Service for any of their missions and activities.

Their fourth squadron was not the usual. Instead of five of each in their special fields, there was one of each. And they were the best.

First, there was the little guy, Fuzzy. He was called Fuzzy because he was born in Papua New Guinea and during WW2, the Australian soldiers in PNG named the locals the ‘Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels’ as they helped them, cared for them, gave them medical attention in support. Kaupa fit that description. He was a little loose cannon, though the best when it came to his specialty. Mountaineering and jungle warfare. You’d never even know he was there until you were dead.

The next was a typical Australian guy named Williams, though they called him Wombat. Short for eats, shits and leaves. Crass, but true. He never settled down and never slept with the same woman twice. The typical womaniser, though Ridley loved him. He was unapologetically himself and he was well aware of his shortcomings. You had to be a bit of a nutcase to be in their profession. His specialty was Airborne. He could pilot anything like Ridley, and she’d met him when they were in the Air Force together, prior to their being poached by the SASR.

The last of the trio was a woman named Morgan. Her nickname though, was Duce, short for Medusa. Why? Because she could level a man with a gaze and wasn’t there to fuck around. She was the toughest of the trio. Her specialty was Mobility. That was ground movements, land movements, logistics, terrain and sniping.

She grinned at Ridley who returned it without a second thought. These were her family away from family. The people she trusted with her life. Though she trusted no one beyond the big guy. Becks. His specialty was Water. Scuba diving, water raids, submarines, etc. They ran the Squadron together for some time and although she held a higher rank in the Air Force, they both held the same in the Army and refused to be made higher. They didn’t want a desk job or to be put in command of more platoons and squadrons. No, their job was perfect and to be quite honest, she doubted that anyone could replace any single one of them. That’s why they were so successful. That’s why everybody in that dark side of the world knew them, and yet the public never would. They did the terrible things so that people could live their lives in peace and a blind happiness.

“You always think it’s a BOHICA,” Ridley murmured as she stood next to Duce. The woman wrapped an arm around her waist and smirked up at her.

“We both know Fuzzy loves a bit of bending over and taking it.”

BOHICA: Army slang for ‘Bend over here it comes again’ i.e. we’re being fucked.

“Now, now, there’s no problem with swinging both ways,” Wombat teased with a wink. He wasn’t just a womaniser for women, that one. Wombat loved everybody.

“I didn’t think you were coming for this one, Wings.” Becks said from the front. The others went quiet. He was very well respected. They both were. And he was the only one who called her that.

She shrugged. “I was bored. Besides, I figured you’d all need the help.”

“Oh no she didn’t.” Wombat challenged and stood.

“Bad idea bad idea, Romeo will smack you down,” Fuzzy said – wanting to see the result.

“Need help huh?” He fake challenged again.

Ridley stepped forwards and got close to him. Real close. The one thing he couldn’t control with her was his dick, and she had never, nor would she ever have done anything past a friendly touch with him. So now with her so close, he froze and as her lips closed in on his, she swept his leg and shoved him hard in the chest, forcing him to fall hard on his ass on the chair.

“Keep dreaming, Wombat.”

He grinned and stuck his hands up in surrender.

Ridley took her seat near Duce and put her attention back on Becks. “The floor is yours.”

Becks started presenting their mission again, throwing her a pack to read through.

“Here’s the finer details, the basis of it is that we’ve had a task we need to complete tonight. The son of one of the biggest political figures in Dubai needs recovering. His father is of vital importance to the current political stability in the middle east. He keeps the peace between Dubai and the western countries, including Australia.”

“Where is the son?”

“Taken hostage by Somali pirates. They’re using him as a bargaining chip to have his father cut the relationship between the middle east and western countries, and also money. Lots of money.”

He wasn’t saying the full story and she knew it. “Spit it out, Becks.”

He studied her face with a neutral expression before he spoke. “Cumar has him.”

Fuck.

Cumar was one of the largest crime lords in Somalia. Up until this point, they hadn’t managed to capture or kill him. Though he had killed one of their own. One of the pilots she and Wombat had trained with. He’d killed him right in front of her as she hung from the fucking ceiling, beaten and bloody. She was lucky the group had found her in time. She had more than a few scars from that incident. That was the last time she’d disappeared from Alexia.

Cumar, however, had escaped. He was currently the most wanted man on the globe.

She turned and looked at Wombat whose jaw was locking and unlocking. James was his friend too. It was difficult to not involve emotions.

“This is not revenge,” Becks said, reading their minds. “This is an overdue extraction. He’s been with him for two weeks now.”

“Two weeks? Where the fuck are the SAS? Why didn’t they handle this?” Wombat growled. He had a point; they had a lot more riding on it.

“They’re stuck in the Ukrainian conflict, and the uprising in the middle east at the moment between Palestine and Israel.”

“Seals?”

“They tried. They lost contact with them before they even reached his base and the yanks received some… prizes in return.”

Body parts.

Cumar.

“They believe this to be impossible. They want the best.”

Silence again. They were an interesting group of personalities, though they all had that intellectual and professional persona when it was serious.

“You wouldn’t look so confident without a plan..” Ridley murmured.

“This is mainly mobility so Duce has made a plan and we need to expand on it and see if it’s viable.” They nodded. “Duce?”

They switched places, Duce taking the front and Becks sitting in the seat near Ridley. He put a hand on her shoulder briefly. That’s the most physical affection he tended to show, though it meant everything.

“I’ve been liaising closely with ASIS and we believe his location to be here,” she said, pointing to an area on the map. She spoke of the location, identified the hazards and from the intelligence they were given, where their security were posted. They all listened carefully, adding their expertise here and there to overcome each of the potential issues that were already onsite or that may arise at some point as they made their detailed extraction plan. As they were talking – Ridley knew that coming here had been the right choice. Sure, she hadn’t slept in two days, but this… this was distracting. It was the only thing that could have distracted her from the thought of Alexia.. the softness of her skin… the feel of her hands tangled with her own as she fucked her from-

“Romes?”

Ridley looked up and Duce smiled. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were tired.”

“Mmnhmn.”

“We were talking about this. This is where we believe the Seals had an issue. They chuted in but their carrier was spotted and fired upon. From there, they were already dead, it was just a matter of picking them off when they touched ground. There’s this strip here that we’ve noted which may potentially be large enough to land at…”

“If their carrier was spotted then engine noise is our other issue,” Wombat said before turning to Ridley. “Can we glide in?”

Wombat was a fucking good pilot. But he knew what he was asking was dangerous and beyond anything he’d done before. Ridley had much more experience testing the limitations of aircraft and maximising the efficiency of an aircraft within the relative airflow.

She stood and Duce automatically stepped aside. Ridley pulled up the live map of the landing strip, she checked the wind, the cloud levels, the distance to the first potential group of people who may hear them. She’d need to shut down engines early… though from the look of the air pressure and wind…

“It’s dangerous. It has the potential to go very, very wrong. But it’s not impossible. With the weight of everybody here… we can use a plane small enough for the strip. It’s a full moon with direct contact to the strip so we will have okay visibility without lights when we go engines out. We can pull lighting just as we come down to flare, the trees will cover it by then. The biggest issue is getting an aircraft with an incredibly high aspect ratio. Think gliders… with an engine.”

“What’s the range needed?” Wombat asked.

“If we get approval to base and depart from Mandy Bay… the round trip will be around 1000 nautical miles.”

“So… bladder tank.”

She nodded. “Definitely. We’ll calculate the fuel needed for the return before we land and dump the excess fuel for weight as we glide in.”

“Do we have contacts in Kenya?” Becks asked.

“I do,” Wombat nodded. “I have a guy who’ll have the aircraft we need. I’ll make a call.”

Becks nodded and turned back to Ridley. “We can do this?”

“I’ll need to monitor every and all weather changes, but for now, it will work. The strip is north east facing, directly into the forecasted wind. It’s also almost the perfect amount of headwind for the direction we hit it, and it’ll give us a bit of leeway too. Cumar’s location is north. It’ll be hard to hear us as we’ll be downwind of where they are. I’m thinking we can switch off the engine a little later than anticipated because of it. It may end up being a bit of a crash landing, though, depending.”

Duce chuckled and Fuzzy scoffed. “It’s all been crash landings with Wombat since you’ve changed to coming and going as you please. How’s life as a civvy?”

Civvy – a civilian. She rolled her eyes and ignored the attempt to get a reaction from her.

“Happy with the risk?” She asked.

Becks nodded and stood, offering a hand. He wasn’t big on physical affection, though this was a treat. She clapped hands with his large, rough one.

“I’m glad you’re here, Wings.” He was the only one to call her Wings, and she the only one to call him Becks. Their own little way of showing their respect.

“Me too,” she smiled. She was glad she’d come, knowing that she was the only one who could land this.

“But you’re sleeping on the cargo plane before we arrive.”

To anyone else, they would have taken that as an order. Although she’d moved to part time, coming and going when she wanted, it still didn’t take away her rank or the respect they had for her. Beckett always treated her like an equal, although he was technically the sole squadron leader now. She listened to him talk about sleep though, and she knew it was coming from a caring place. He wanted her safe. And the group. Fatigue was a liability.

“Wilco.”

An hour later, they were on another military aircraft to Kenya. Ridley had found a medevac stretcher and had settled there with her jacket over her eyes. She slept through the flight and only woke as they touched down. The landing gear hit the runway and she jolted upright automatically awake. Fuzzy looked at her and gave a somewhat sad smile. They all tended to have those reactions, after what they’d seen. And although the PTSD was mild and well managed with therapy – they all knew they were stuck with it for the rest of their lives.

They stepped outside to a bright moonlit night at the US military base of Mandy Bay, Kenya. Flying backwards, they’d gained an hour, as it was only 8pm. They were greeted by officers and taken straight to their prep room. Ridley and Wombat detoured on their way to scout the plane they were to use and made sure it was satisfactory for the job.

“Happy?” He asked as he inspected a prop.

She nodded from her place under the wing. “This will work.”

“How much fuel, Commander?” The US officer asked from his ladder. He was filling the bladder tank in the back of the aircraft.

“Hold five. And move it more central for our weight and balance. We can’t have an aft centre of gravity with the structure of this.”

“Yes, Commander.”

 As he and another soldier moved the bladder tank more central under Wombat’s supervision, Ridley took out her tablet and double and triple checked her flight plans with the updated forecast of winds and weather.

“I need full wing tanks and that bladder with an extra 280 litres. I’m going in to prep. Standby in case the winds change before we leave.”

“Affirm - full wing tanks and 280 litres in the bladder.”

Their prep took hours – as it should. They were very, very thorough. It was rare they were ever caught out by surprises or unplanned events. They collected their packs, their weapons, and ran through their strategies with updated intelligence. Whatever happened – they didn’t exist. She wondered what Alexia and Blue would be told if she weren’t to come back. If she were to be killed. To be fair, she just wanted them both safe and happy. And then her will would provide the extra cushion of financial support for them.

Their off-blocks time was 10pm. They flew straight north, following the coast as the moon reflected the waves below. They flew high enough to not be heard, yet low enough to not be seen. There was a single road that ran across the border of Kenya, into Somalia and towards their target. It looked empty from above, yet they all knew better. There were definitely more of Cumar’s people checkpointing the road. Duce had intelligence on a few areas to expect them should they have to escape via road, though not all of them.

Being stuck in a situation where they couldn’t be seen or heard to approach, it meant they needed to conduct a non-conventional approach to the landing strip over water. This was to avoid the noise over the land. Ridley dropped them low over the ocean and joined an extended base for the strip. In the moonlight, they spotted it, but barely.

“Engines out is final.” She reminded. “We won’t be attempting to restart and we will be landing, regardless.”

“Affirm,” Wombat agreed from the right seat.

As they approached the height of engine out, he started to read her airspeed and altitude. This was the most difficult part by far.

“On spec… on spec… plus 4 on slope… plus 7 on slope… plus 10 on slope…”

Ridley had purposely increased her approach speed to compensate for the upcoming lack of power.

“Plus 15, plus 50…. 200 above engine out… plus 20, plus 80… 100 above engine out… 50 above engine out.”

“Established. Engines out.” She directed.

“Copy – engines out. Engine 1…”

Wombat shut down the first engine and Ridley compensated for the yaw with her foot pressed hard into the rudder.

“Feather engine 1.”

“Feathering engine 1…” The pressure needed from her leg eased as it feathered. “Engine 1 feathered. Engine 2 out…” He said with his hand on the second throttle.

“Affirm, engine 2 out.”

Wombat shut down the second engine, cutting the mixture and all went silent. They were gliding.

She compensated for the tiniest bit of yaw before, “Feather engine 2.”

“Feathering engine 2…” The need for rudder was eliminated until it was just to account for the wind. “Engine 2 feathered.”

“Gliding, lights out.”

“On speed, 50 below.”

He read her speeds and altitudes all the way down the approach, as was usual for a multi-crew environment. She checked her fuel and was satisfied with the remaining amount.

“Dump the bladder.”

Becks, Fuzzy and Duce dumped the bladder tank from the aircraft which made it lighter and put her back on slope.

“On spec.”

She’d adjusted perfectly for the engine outs and the weight loss from the bladder, and she could hear it in Wombat’s voice.

“Wind 030 at 15.”

She’d noticed the wind had shifted to a slight crosswind, though it was manageable. It was more difficult with a high aspect ratio of course. Longer wings means more area for the crosswind to push, though she worked the rudder and ailerons to crab into the landing strip.

“300 above. On spec…. minimums…”

“Continue.”

“200 above on spec. Lights on?”

“No until the flare,” she murmured. The trees were lower than she’d expected, and didn’t want to risk the lights being seen. “Lights at 70.”

“Affirm.”

“100 above.”

They were only 100 feet above the ground and descending at a rate that would result in disaster. But that’s exactly where she wanted to be.

“70 feet, lights.” Wombat said – powering the lights.

Ridley had a split second of vision to flare relative to the ground. She did so and held pressure back on the yoke, not having to compensate for the wind that was now blocked by the tree line. She held back pressure until the mains touched, and slowed with brakes until she could let the nose wheel down.

“Lights off.”

“Lights off.”

They went back to darkness, moonlight only, though that was enough. Ridley made the most out of the momentum of the aircraft to roll it to the far end of the strip and pumped the right brake in stages to turn them back around near the tree line. Ready for a quick getaway.

They stopped and parked there, pulling the park brakes on. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“That was fucking extraordinary.” Duce said, speaking for the others. She leapt out first, with her pack and rifles.

Fuzzy tapped her shoulder in thanks on his way out also. “Missed you.”

Wombat gave her a grin. “You’ll always upstage me, huh?”

“Someone needs to keep you on your toes.” She shrugged as she took her headset off.

He leapt out and she went to follow suit when Becks murmured from behind her. “There will never be another you, Wings.”

The highest of Becks compliments. She didn’t have time to respond before he was out on the ground.

Ridley slipped out last, hitting the floor harder than usual with the weight of her pack. Now they were in Cumar’s territory. Any step could be their last.

All of the group were hyper focused on their surroundings and automatically took up positions where their backs were to each other, protecting each other. Regardless - Ridley hadn’t even had a chance to join when she felt a body against her back, and a knife pressed so hard into her stomach that it pierced through flesh.

#woso #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #woso x reader #alexia putellas #fcb femení #lionesses #fc barcelona #fc barca #culers

[the-prettiest-teardrop]

What A Gentleman

Pairing- Billy the Kid x Femme reader 

Warnings- Drinking mentioned, drunk people, reader gets hit on, unwanted flirting, unwanted touching, Billy says reader ‘belongs’ to him, allusion to smut

A/N- um, this is kinda shit writing, but I like it. lmk how you feel abt the allusion to smut. also, SEND REQS

———

You and Billy had been seeing each other for a while now, but considering that you were a sweet lady, he didn’t want you to be associated with him.

Well, that was until tonight. You had decided to go out, making your way to a nearby bar to enjoy the night. You weren’t someone to be messed with, although Billy thought you were all fragile, you were far from it. You’d grown up learning how to fight, and although you were underestimated as a woman, you could protect yourself quite well. Because of this, you figured you’d have no trouble turning guys away that night, until a random young man, obviously drunk, made his way to you.

“Hello there, pretty miss, what’cha doin’ here alone?” He drawled, his speech a little off thanks to the alcohol. 

“Just tryin’ to get a drink.” You replied with confidence, a little surprised he had approached you. I mean, you didn’t exactly look like the kinda girl most men went for, I mean, you had gotten away with wearing pants instead of a skirt for fucks sake.

“A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be here all alone. Why don’t I take you back to your home and you can show me what you can do?” He said forcefully, left hand landing on your waist, causing you to startle. In that moment, you became aware of the breath of someone else fanning down your neck.

“You leave her alone, she’s got a man.” A familiar voice says from behind, without even having to look, you know it’s Billy. The man’s eyes widen and he scampers off, head hung in defeat. “Here, This’ll keep ‘em away.” He murmurs, firmly placing his hat on your head.

“You sure?” You ask, wide eyes looking up at his. Everyone would know who you belonged to now.

“Of course, Doll. I don’t want you havin’ to deal with that.” He plants a kiss on your forehead after he finished speaking, then reaching down to take your hand. “C’mon sugar, let’s get you home.”

He leads you home, making sure that you didn’t trip over something as you looked up at the stars. 

“Billy, can we watch the stars from my backyard?” You ask in a tone too sweet for him to resist.

“Of course, sugar. I’ll watch the stars with you.” He murmurs as he slings an arm around your waist. 

Once back at your house, you get a blanket from your bed and wandered into the garden where Billy already waited. You lay next to him in the grass, a blanket pulled over you two.

“Billy, will you stay with me tonight? Please?” You plead, already knowing it was going to be a no.

“M’sorry sugar, it just isn’t safe for you.” He murmurs as he plants a soft kiss on your head.

“Please? Just tonight?” You beg, and the way you look at him, the way you beg even though you knew he’d say no, breaks him.

“Fine baby, just tonight though.” He murmurs, a little hesitant. All his worries melt away as he sees your face light up. Nothing was better than the sight of his girl, in his hat, grinning like she had won the lottery.

After a bit more stargazing, he leads you back up to your room, helping you change before crawling in bed with you. He makes sure the covers are just how you like before moving in to kiss you. Every time he kissed you, your heart fluttered, it was always like the first time. He poured so much passion into the way he moved his lips, and you could feel that in the kiss. He eventually broke away, leaving you gasping for air.

“You need to rest Darlin’.” He whispers, pulling his hat off your head and hanging it off a bed post. You complied quickly, tucking your face into the soft skin of his neck while his rough hands pulled you closer. Although you were supposed to sleep, things didn’t stay like that for long.

In the morning, he helped you out of bed, legs still shaking from the previous night. Being a gentleman, he had made breakfast for his girl, because after all, even if you could barely walk after a night with him, he wasn’t one to be impolite.

#billy the kid x you #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid smut #billy the kid imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow imagine #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth smut #tom blyth x you #tom blyth imagine

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Give Him A Chance (Hannibal)

Description: Alana wants Hannibal and Y/N together but Y/N isn’t fond of him.

Word Count: 1,126k

Request:

Hi,

could I request a Hannibal fanfic, where Alana or Beverly are the readers best friend and they trie to set her up with Hannibal, even though she dislikes him? Hannibal also takes an interest in her, bit she keeps refusing. After multiple tries and a lot of convincing from Alana/Beverly,she finally gives in and starts dating him. (Maybe it get‘s steamy in the end with smut?)

“No, are you kidding me? Why the hell would I go out with him?” Y/N asked her best friend. She chuckled and shrugged, “You guys would be so cute together.” Alana tells her as they walk to work. Truth be told Alana knew that Hannibal had a thing for her best friend and wanted to make it work. But Y/N was stubborn and didn’t like Hannibal. “Will is right ya know?” Y/N said to her as they walked into the building. Alana rolled her eyes and nudged her. “Yeah whatever.” Hannibal waited for Y/N with flowers like Alana told him too. He’s been wanting to ask her out for awhile but with Alana’s help he would actually do it.

Alana waved at Hannibal and Y/N glared but wondered who the flowers were for. “These are for you.” He said, giving Y/N the flowers. They were her favorite kind of flowers. She looked at Alana who refused to make eye contact with her. “Thanks.” She said but not truly grateful for the gesture. “So I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date with me?” He asked her. Her face kept the blank stare that she had when she saw him. “Uh no thanks.” She said and walked away before anything else could be said. Alana’s jaw dropped and Hannibal’s eyebrows raised. “Wow.” He said and Alana laughed awkwardly. “She uh she’s just shy.” She lied to Hannibal. She felt bad for the guy but she promised him that Y/N didn’t hate him. Y/N walked with the flowers to her office and sat them down. She stared at them for a few minutes but shook her head and got back to work. 

As Y/N was leaving she saw Alana storming up to her. “Girl what the fuck?” Y/N looked at her confused. “You were supposed to say yes.” She exclaimed. “No I wasn’t.” Y/N told her. “Why won’t you?” “I don’t like him, especially like that.” She told Alana. Alana sighed and Y/N turned to her. “Why do you care so much?” “Cuz I know deep down inside you have some feelings for him that aren’t hate.” Y/N shook head. “You sound ridiculous.” Hannibal happened to be leaving at the same time they were and Alana saw him.

She called his name causing Y/N to roll her eyes. He looked back at the two girls and smiled. Alana took Y/N’s hand and ran up to him. Y/N protested but it was ignored as the reached him. “Y/N I am very sorry that I did that earlier. I was not aware that you had ill feelings towards me.” He said. “It’s okay. I never was going to tell you to your face.” She shrugged. Alana looked at her in shock and Hannibal laughed. “Y/N that is so mean.” Alana told her. Y/N looked at her, “You want me to lie?” “You don’t have to say that.”

“It is quite alright. I just am very sorry for whatever I did to make you feel that way.” Y/N looked at him, “If you don’t know what you did why are you apologizing?” Alana rolled her eyes. “Well I had to have done something to offend you.” He said. “Are you saying that you are a likeable person until you offend somebody?” She thought he was being egotistical. “How do you know that I just don’t like you for you?” She asked. He stared at her amused by her choosing of words. “I guess I don’t.” He said, ending the conversation. 

Alana was annoyed to say the least. She knew deep down inside that Y/N didn’t truly hate Hannibal like she says she does. She needed to fix whatever it was going on between them. So she needed to do the cliche lock them in a room together. “Hannibal.” She called to the man. He turned towards her and smiled. “Hello Alana.” He greeted. “I need you to grab me something from the supply closet as I am too short.” She said, “Even with the heels.” He joked making her roll her eyes. He followed her to the supply closet and as he entered it she quickly shut the door. “Alana what?” “I’ll be right back.” She tells him and goes to find Y/N.

Y/N was in her office when her friend came running in. “Y/N!” She exclaimed. Y/N looked at her, “yes?” “Come quick.” She said and ran out of the office. Y/N sighed but followed her. They both ran to the supply closet that Hannibal was locked in. “What?” “There’s a spider and I can’t kill it.” Y/N looked at her and sighed. She unlocked the door and opened it just to be pushed in by Alana. “Hey.” Y/N yelled as Alana locked her in the room. “Of course she does this.” Hannibal says startling Y/N. “Alana let me the fuck out!” She yells banging on the door.

“Not until you guys talk.” She yells back. Y/N sighed in defeat. “She’s right though. We really should talk.” Hannibal says. Y/N looks at him, “what would I have to say to you?” She asked him. “Why do you hate me so much?” “Hate is a strong word.” Y/N points out. “Ok why do you dislike me so much?” He asked. Y/N ignored him and looked around for something to pry the door open with. “Y/N?” “I’m looking for something to get us out of here.” He sighed.

“Can you just look at me?” He asked, she looked at him annoyed. “What?” She asked. “Why do you have an issue with me?” He asked. She shook her head and sighed. “Why do you keep asking me out?” She asked. Of course she ignored his question. “Maybe I find you attractive.” He says. She looks at him, “Ok but I have shown that I’m not into you like that.” She said. “It might be the only way we get out of this.” He tells her. She sighed knowing that Alana wouldn’t let them out until Y/N agreed to go on a date with him. “Is that what you want?” She yelled to Alana who was on the other side of the door. “It’s what I want.” Hannibal tells her.

“Fine. I’ll go out with you.” She exclaimed. She heard Alana cheer on the other side of the door but was too distracted by Hannibal’s smirk. “You can let us out now.” Hannibal yelled and the door unlocked. Alana opened it with a smile, “I was honestly hoping you guys would take advantage of this and make out.” Y/N gave her a weird look and walked out of the closet. “We will.” Hannibal says. Y/N looked back at him with a glare but deep down she liked the sound of that. 

#hannibal #mads mikkelsen #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hugh dancy #will graham #hannibal imagine #hannibal lecter imagine #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter x you

[tastytoastz]

I just want to say that the most recent chapter, at the time of writing this, of your fic (where Pac and Mike travel back in time to a 2b Fit, forgive me for forgetting the name) had me so enthralled. I've said this before but I don't think there are nearly enough fics that thoroughly explore the absolute internalised homophobia a man would develop in a place like 2b, so to have a fic like yours properly portray it is like a dream. That chapter has been stuck in my mind since I first read it, and I've reread it a couple of times.

I can't get over how well you showed that he wasn't just angry, but genuinely terrified. I love the emphasis on him being above all just so fucking scared of that information existing out loud. It's such a good angle. And he's not completely dead shocked by the revelation, and jumps straight into denial, which makes it come across - to me, anyway - as if he has already been aware of this fact about himself for a while, like he knows, and he actively works to hide it everyday. There's so much implied in what isn't said . It leaves you wondering how long he's known, how much he thinks about it, if anyone else in his life has ever known, if he has witnessed first hand what happens to people like him (has he ever watched someone get killed for that while having slurs and horribly vulgar and vivid insults thrown at them, and tried his hardest not to picture himself in that position, as the victim?) ... And most of all you wonder what the aftermath of the interaction looks like on his end. Is he panicking silently up in that room, expecting a mob at his door by morning? What is he thinking, what's running through his head? What does he expect to happen now?

I just love the angle you took and how it was written, and that you decided to pick up the heavy subject matter and write it where a lot of other writers seem hesitant. It's so intriguing .

Thank you so much for this ask!!! I could go crazy over this chapter as well and point out so many details, I'm gonna get into some here, but not all (since I wanna keep some stuff ambigitous/secret still and cuz if i mentioned it all it would be a long post, but I will probably go deeper into some more things once the fic is over cuz I have so many things and smaller details I wan't to get into!!! ) (Also I guess if you want to keep thing ambigious and not 'peek behind the curtain' about some things with this fic don't keep reading)

I have seen some people say Fit's reaction to Mike's comment is with self-denial but honestly it's a lot closer to just being him denying Mike and Pac's words. He's not lying to himself, he's strictly lying to Pac and Mike, and I'm glad I was able to make that clear and people are picking up on it!

Not gonna go to much into it right now ( that's for later in the fic 🤫), but he's very aware he is gay.

As a queer person myself homophobia is sadly not something i'm unfamiliar with. I have experinced it directed towards me and I have seen it happen to other people. Meanwhile i've also done research about internalised homophobia as best I can. I know it's a heavy subject matter (and the fic has a lot of violence/gore as well, it's rated M for a reason) so I'm glad so many people are intrigued by the fic despite it (however I fully understand if someone would not like the themes and cuz of that won't read it). I'm hoping to portray it and handle the themes as best i can.

I also think it would just makes sense from a character perspective, you have a man who has been on 2b2t for years, surrounded by slurs for all lgbtq memebers and wathcing people get specially targeted for stuff like that, and that would fuck with you as a closeted gay person. Not only bring you fear of being "found out", but also adapting homophobi language to look less like "one of them" while also just ingraning it in yourself.

Fit's been told the person he is bad, and knows that if people find out he's gay there will be a lot of negative consequnces, so he hides it. And then here comes Mike, not only saying that he knows he's gay but also that "it's obvious" that he likes Pac. For Mike and Pac it's a factual thing they know, while they also know is dangerous to Fit in the wrong hands. They also think it's obvious Fit likes Pac beacuse they know what to look for.

For Fit it sounds like these random guys, despite his best efforts, knows he's gay, the other says he has photo evidence he's gay, and then said he is awful at hiding it. These two people could ruin his life and have him killed so easily. That's what Fit heard and that is terrifying.

This is also one of the reason this fic is only from Pac's POV becuase I want it to be as unclear for the reader what Fit is thinking as it is for Pac. You don't know how Fit thinks in the past, what ideas he has or how he looks at thing which I think it both intruging for readers but also terrifying. You never know what Fit's next move is going to be.

Once again, thank you so much for the ask! I love talking about my fics so thank you for giving me a reason to!

#toast fic #I should really have a tag for this fic or something umm #I'm worried bout the future fic #that works for now #ask #tw homophobia #it's very late for me right now so i hope this makes sense and is readable

[siampie]

Finding You||Chapter 4

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings/tags: pinning, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome, mention of emotional abuse, mentions of SA

A/N: Enjoy this chapter, you guys. Comments and reblogs are always welcomed, greatly advised and strongly appreciate.

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Masterlist || join my taglist

Tag list: @marytheweefrenchie; @sunflowersandsapphires; @schneeflocky; @danzer8705; @ebathory997;

@shouldbestudying41; @lulukings92; @beezusvreeland

Dividers by @cafekitsune

“Hiya,” Bessie, your coworker, greeted you as you sat in her car. “How are ya today?”

“Better,” you smiled while buckling your seatbelt.

Your smile didn’t reach your eyes. It just couldn’t. And if Bessie noticed, she said nothing. Or maybe, she truly didn’t see the difference. It didn’t matter anyway. You just wanted to get through your day.

You had gone through your morning, getting ready for work, on autopilot. Trying to shake off that feeling of dread that had taken residence in the pit of your stomach. The nightmare had unsettled you, threw you off balance. It was just a terrifying dream. You let out a shaky breath before sipping your coffee. Your heart, beneath your ribcage, was thumping irregularly. It went from too fast to too slow. You were too much aware of your heart fluttering under your ribcage. And that feeling of impending doom was plaguing you, making it hard to breathe. Your chest felt tight, your lungs were struggling to expand as though there wasn’t enough room for them in your chest.

When you stepped out of your house, you made sure your door was locked at least twice. Ensuring that no one would walk into your home while you were gone for work. You pushed out a sigh. Your eyes moved to your next-door neighbor’s house. Somehow, you were slightly disappointed not to see him that morning. You didn’t know what good it would do to even catch a glimpse of him. It wasn’t as though you would spill all of your secrets, your fears, the story of your broken families. In some twisted ways, thinking about the criminal next door, had brought you comfort the night before. And seeing him that morning may have brought more. But he wasn’t there.

You let out a deep breath, reaching into your pockets. You pulled out fifty euros and handed them to Bessie. She jus looked at you confused.

“What’s that for?” She asked you.

“Petrol.” You replied.

“No, no, thanks but—ya don’t have to.” Bessie shook her head, refusing the money.

“Take it, Bessie.” You insisted. “You’ve been picking me up for months, the least I can do is to pay for petrol.”

Bessie took the money and shoved it in her pockets. It wasn’t the first time you had offered her money for the trouble. You didn’t have a car and she was driving you to work every day. You were aware that cars didn’t run for free. So, it was only natural and sensible to give her some money for petrol. And whether she liked or not, you would keep on doing it.

You moved through your day on autopilot, answering calls, filing up insurance claims. A deep sigh pushed past your lips.

“Hiya, love,” Bessie pulled a chair to sit next to you, in your cubicle.

“Hey,” You smiled at her. “Can I help you with anything?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I just wanted to check on ya.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” You smiled at her. You lifted one of your shoulders in a shrug. “I’m alright.”

“Are ya? Really?” Her eyes roamed your face.

You pushed out a sigh, and turned to face her. “I’m fine, I’m just—dealing with some family stuff. That’s all.”  

“Ah, family, yeah?” Bessie nodded. “There’s nothing more fucking complicated.”

You scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

“Wanna talk about it?” She asked you softly.

You exhaled deeply. “I don’t even want to think about it. So, no. Not really. But thanks.”

If you could forget about it all, you would.  Blocking their numbers may have stopped the calls, but it did not erase this plaguing feeling of dread, in the pit of your stomach. As though something terrible was about to happen. You just didn’t know what or when.

You dropped your keys on the kitchen counter. You pushed out a long breath. You dropped in your couch. Your stomach dropped at the sound of your ringtone. Your heart raced beneath your ribcage. You stood up on shaky legs to pick it up. It was silly to be afraid of your own phone. You had blocked their numbers, so it couldn’t be any of them calling you, right? You reached in your bag with shaky hands. By the time you fished out your phone, it had stopped ringing. It rang again. You gasped and flinched. Reading the caller ID, you let out an annoyed groaned. It was your brother Dave.

“What do you want?” You answered the call.  

“Well, hello to you too, sis.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“What do you want?” You repeated, angrily.

“Well, your phone’s working. So, I was wondering why you weren't answering Mom.”

“Because I don’t want to talk to her.” You shot back. “It is as simple as that.”

“Look, you need to talk to mom.” He spoke.

“Why the fuck I would want that, now?” Your heart beating faster with anger.

“We only heard one side of the story, okay?” He argued with you. “You don’t know half of the things Dad put her through.”

“I don’t need to know.” You told him. “I don’t want to know. I don’t care.”

“You should care. Especially, after everything you put her through.”  He hissed at you, through the line.

“I put her through. I put her—” You exhaled through your nose, running a hand on your forehead. “Riddle me this, brother. How did you go from hating her to defending her? When she walked out on us, you told everyone that she was dead. And now, you want me to talk to her. Why?”

“She is our mother.” He said. “And I was a kid. You need to make amends for the lies you told Dad. For the things you put her through.”

“How dare you?” You snapped, slamming your free hand on the counter. “How dare you defend her of all people?”

“You knew better than to spread stories.”

“I was a child and he was being a creep.” You said through gritted teeth. “You don’t get to tell me that there were stories. You don’t get to make demands regarding our mother. You want her in your life, fine. But you don’t get to force me to make room in mine just because she’s mom.” Your veins were boiling with rage. “And don’t ever call me on her behalf, ever again.”

You hung up the phone before he could reply. You didn’t need this. You took a deep breath before grabbing a glass from your cabinet. You filled it with water in an attempt to slow your own heartrate, to calm yourself down. To let go of the anger, your brother just put you in. How dare he make demands? How dare he diminish what your mother had done to you? How dare he call what happened to you stories and lies? Your brother was clearly taking your mother’s side on things. You hated him for it because you knew you would never do that to him.

You roared and threw the glass. It smashed into the wall, breaking in tiny pieces, water spreading everywhere. Tears pressed against your eyes; “shit,” you cursed quietly. Your throat clogged up; frustration was clawing in your chest. You couldn’t believe that your own brother called you a liar. That he was ready to tarnish your father’s character, to defend her.

You crouched down to pick up the broken glass. Your heart was hurting. You loved your brother, you did. So, why couldn’t he just do this one thing for you? Why couldn’t he just respect that you didn’t want a relationship with your mother? You respected his choice of having one with her. The least he could do was to respect that you didn’t. A knock on the door snapped you out of your thoughts, startling, and causing you to cut your hand with a broken shard.

“Coming;” you yelled through the door; you threw the broken pieces you had already gathered before opening the door.

Michael had an appointment with a councilor that day. He had been hopeful before it. He knew that getting access to Anna would be a long and difficult process. He knew that. But it had not seemed impossible. At least, not in the way Donal Creehan had described it. If he stayed out of trouble, had a job, he would have a chance to see Anna. To have her back in his life. And he did all of that.

It all had been pointless.

His hopes had been snuffed out, like one would a candle. How could they think that him having access to Anna would harm her in any way? He would never let anything happen to her. She was his daughter. The only person that really mattered. All he ever wanted was to see her. They didn’t allow her to visit him in prison. And now they would use it against him, saying that he had not seen her in eight years. Of course, he had not, they didn’t allow it.

They were going to use this and his past, his family name, and his family’s business to keep Anna away from him. Getting a job, staying away from trouble had all been for nothing.  He was already condemned and punished for being a Kinsella. Leaving him no chance to prove that he could be a good father to his daughter. It was all hopeless.

What was the point of saying no to Jimmy? What was the point of it all? Whether he had a honest and proper job or he went back working with his family, it wouldn’t change anything. He would not be allowed to see her. He knew that. His councilor may had said that it wouldn’t be easy, implying that he might still have a chance. But he knew better. He had none. He would lose his daughter in the end. If only because he had been charged with the death of his wife; Alison.

So, when Jimmy came back and asked once again for his help. Michael had said yes. He would help his brother put things right. It wouldn’t change a thing regarding his chances of accessing Anna.

Michael wished he had seen you that day. Maybe, the sight of you would have made things slightly better. He would not tell you everything that was going wrong in his life. You already knew enough. You needn’t know about his appointment with the councilor or his agreeing to put things right. Even if it was for a brief moment, he would have offered him a little peace.

He stepped out of his house about to go on walk. He saw the light coming out of your large window, meaning you had come back home already. He paused, debating whether he should go knock on your door or not, when he heard it. You had screamed, startling him. He took one step towards your house, and rushed the rest of the way when he heard the glass shattering.

You had wrapped your hand in a kitchen towel before opening the door. Michael was standing on the other side, looking worried.

“Michael. Hi.” You smiled at him, although it didn’t reach your eyes.

“Are you alrigh’? I heard ya scream.” Michael asked you, his eyes searching your face.

“Yeah, I’m—I’m good. It’s nothing really.” You shook your head quickly.

“Didn’t sound like nothin’. Ya sure everythin’ alright, Pet?” He asked you again.

You smiled at him using the term of endearment. You were going to answer, when your phone rang. You sighed through your nose. It was probably your brother calling you back. You invited Michael in quickly before going to pick up your phone.

Michael stepped into your home, his eyes landed on the broken glass on the floor or what was left of it. The water that was spread on the wall and floor. His eyes landed on you in the kitchen. You looked agitated as you spoke angrily on the phone. Your eyes found his across the room. You looked away from quickly before you hung up.

You put down your phone, screen down on the counter. It rang again. You let it go through to voicemail. You no longer wanted to talk to your brother.

“Sorry about that.” You apologized moving to the closet in the corridor.

“No worries.” Michael waved it off. You pulled out a broom and a duster pan. “I’ll clean it up for ya.”

“What? No.” You pulled the broom away from him. “It’s my mess. I’ll—I’ll fix it.”

“Let me take care of it, yeah?” He reached out for the broom and duster pan.

You reluctantly let him take the items from you. “Coffee?” You offered.

“Ya should probably do something about yer hand first.” He said as he started sweeping.

“Yeah.”

You put down the cup of fresh coffee in front of Michael. You pulled the chair before sitting down, across from him. You pushed out a sigh before having a sip.

“Who was that on the phone?” Michael questioned you.

“My brother. Dave.” You replied, not looking up from your cup.

“Didn’t sound like a pleasant conversation.” He remarked.

“It wasn’t.” You looked down at your now freshly bandaged hand. The cut was pretty shallow but it had bled quite a bit.

“Hey, ya can talk to me.” Michael assured you.

You looked up at him. You let out another sigh. Could you really tell him what was going on? And how much should you tell him? You looked over his shoulder at the wall, against which you had smashed your glass in anger. Maybe you could tell him a few things.

“My brother wants me to get in contact with our mother.” You spoke. “I don’t want to because—well, she walked out on us. And I don’t like her new husband. He’s a creep. Always has been.”

“S’ that why you smashed a glass against your wall?”

You huffed out a laugh. You dropped your chin in the palm of your good hand, the clog in your throat was back. You did everything you could to keep the tears at bay.

“He told her where I was. Gave her all my information. Which means her husband knows too.” Your voice cracked; your lips turned down. “I’m scared they are going to show up.” The first tears fell. “I can’t believe my own brother would do this to me.”

Michael’s chair scraped on the floor, as he stood up. He pulled you into his arm. His hand rubbed soothing circles on your back. You fisted his shirt as you cried into his chest while Michael comforted you, whispering soft words of reassurance. Michael didn’t really know why you were scared of your stepfather and mother. And he didn’t need to know. Knowing you were scared was enough for him.

“I won’t let anyone hurt ya.” He said quietly in your ears. “I won’t let that happen.” He pulled away from you so he could look you in the eye. “Ya hear me? I will not let him hurt ya, yeah?”

You nodded. You believed him. He looked determined, almost angry on your behalf. He didn’t know anything and yet, he was ready to protect you. He didn’t have to say the words, you knew that was a promise on his part.

“Yeah.”

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#michael kinsella #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella x fem! reader #michael kinsella angst #kin bbc #kin amc #kin rte #siampie writes #michael kinsella x reader

[mbm-artist]

Hi there hello, I'm sure you're wondering either

A) Why tf I just reblogged a bunch of stuff in the span of like 30 seconds

B) What's going on in general

C) What's the point of this post you're reading

D) All of the above

Well dear viewer, I'm gonna give you a TL;DR and then under the cut give a more in-depth explanation, I'll even cut it up into different sections to make viewing easier :)

⚠️ Trigger Warnings ⚠️

Randy (duh), a LOT of swearing (duh), suicide mentions, pedophilia/attempted grooming/etc mentions, queerphobia (transphobia, homophobia, etc), misogyny, mentions of sexual things, slurs, harassment, general 16+ content mentions

Disclaimer

Randy is a 14 year old minor (allegedly) as of the time this post was made, please DO NOT INTERACT with him, just block him and report him as many times as you want. This post's purpose is to spread awareness and maybe hopefully get him banned from Tumblr. Please do not go after, attack, or interact with him or his (supposed) "girlfriend" (he has her tagged at the bottom of his pinned post). I suggest you block (NOT REPORT) his "girlfriend" too, you can never be too careful.

As of the time this post was made Randy's father and school have been contacted, and we are waiting on an update.

Please offer all the victims of Randy unconditional love and support, they deserve that and so much more for all the bullshit this kid put them through, don't you dare even TRY to victim blame them. I will flame you if you attack them at all in any way shape or form, no excuses, ifs, ands, or buts.

I am also a minor in high school (not giving my age for my own safety), so take that how you will. My pronouns are they/them/he/him if you don't know already :D

One more thing before we get into it (if it wasn't obvious already),

GET THE FUCK OFF OF MY PAGE AND BLOCK ME IF YOU'RE QUEERPHOBIC (transphobic, homophobic, etc) OR AGREE WITH RANDY IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM. DO NOT FUCKING INTERACT WITH ME EVER AGAIN.

Thank you, you may now proceed.

Links

The Google Doc (Alllllll the info about this guy in one place, most reliable source of info) | Randy Tag (Second-most reliable source of info, all posts related to him will [hopefully] be here) | Randy's Interactions With Me (proof of him interacting with me) | Google Photos Album (just all of the screenies of proof in one place, I'm gonna tryyyyy to keep this updated as much as I can but no promises)

My response to the 1st ask he sent me | My response to the 2nd ask he sent me (pretty much the same as the first one)

The Short Explanation

So basically this whole fiasco is about @randysworld-multi-fandom-fan or otherwise known as randysworld2009

His crime(s)?

1. Hypocrisy

2. Queerphobia (transphobia, homophobia, the works)

3. Misogyny

4. Perversion (being a pervert)

5. Suicide baiting

6. Pedophilia accusations (all of which are false, and carelessly thrown around)

7. Attempted grooming(?) of fellow minors

8. Slurs (need I say more?)

9. Harassment (in case that wasn't obvious already)

Among other things

He's been interacting with accounts in the following fandoms (as of the time this post was posted):

The Amazing Digital Circus (TADC)

Hellaverse (Hazbin Hotel & Helluva Boss, or HV/HH/HB)

Murder Drones (MD)

SMG4 (Super Mario Glitchy 4)

Yo Gabba Gabba (YGG)

TL;DR this guy is a 5yo Gen Alpha brainrotted kid stuck in a 14yo kid's body, and he's been harassing multiple (mainly TADC) accounts on Tumblr for a bit now, and just being a nuisance and damaging people's mental health.

That's the simple explanation, if you're still not convinced you need to block this guy (and his [supposed] girlfriend) and report him until your hands hurt and/or would like to know more thennnnn

The full explanation + evidence is under the cut ✨

The Long Explanation

Okay so I'm gonna be quoting the Google Doc a LOT here, you'll be able to tell which parts are quoted and which parts are me.

"Randy or randysworld2009 is a Tumblr user that appeared around TADC blogs in the beginning of 2024. Since then, he has built a history of harassing said blogs, mostly roleplay/askblog accounts and artists, forcing roleplay and specially spouting misogyny towards women mods and fem leaning characters, transphobic and homophobic towards queer people. At one point he started getting his information messed up, saying that he was super straight and then later on a “half-bisexual”, also often times approaching people with romantic/sexual intent and then getting angry when those same people state that they are not interested or are above legal age, which he supposedly is not. It is believed that Randy is 14 years old, but at this point, we can’t be certain of what information is true or false. For all we know, his blog could be just a troll."

So yeah, this guy is bad news. That was a direct (formal) quote from one of the victims.

If formal isn't your style, here's a more casual one

"Randy first appeared around the beginning of 2024. He began harassing tadc ask blogs then that led to harassing their mods. Eventually others got involved and Randy basically snapped. He got EVEN MORE batshit and started spouting misogyny, transphobia, and dilution. He's chronically online and believes everything is a roleplay. He's obsessed with getting a girlfriend and has sexually harassed many. he is the horniest bastard you could fucking meet omg"

Another direct quote from another victim, this one he treated the WORST.

(Some) Screenshots

There are more screenshots in the Google Doc and the Google Photos Album I made, but these will be a few tidbits of evidence that will hopefully convince you by now if you're not already. (With some additional commentary/explanation from yours truly underneath each screenie✨) Additionally, all the images will have links to their sources. (Please let me know if they don't work, I'll update this with usable links if that's the case)

Exhibit A - The Bastard Himself

(Mb for light mode jumpscare here, even more reason for your eyes to bleed when looking at this immature fuck's profile)

Just his profile (as of the time this post was posted) so you know exactly who to block and report as many times as possible Exhibit B - His Interactions With Me

This is some evidence of him interacting with me, there's more in the Google Photos Album I made of proof he interacted with me

(Mb for light mode jumpscare again, it's the only way I could show the post and the comments in the same screenie)

His comments on my pinned post, if you saw this or this you know I demanded that he delete his comments on here (while flaming the fuck out of him), so here's a screenie of what they were before he (hopefully) deletes them

The first ask he sent me, my response being the awesome giant rant where I DEMOLISHED him (I'm way too proud of it if you couldn't tell)

All his interactions with me from when he initially found me

The rest of his interactions he's ever had with me

Like the first ask he sent, I answered with the same thing, ANNIHILATING this fucker (still way too proud of it)

Exhibit C - Direct Victim Testimonies (to yours truly) These are asks that I sent to the main 3 victims I had gathered evidence from before gaining access to the Google Doc, they're my main sources so far (send all the love and support to them please [especially Sunny's system they've all been hurt the most from what I can see], they're very sweet outside of all this and more than deserve it)

Dia answered first, their answer helped me gain access to the Google Doc and get a HUGE chunk of the evidence I'll be showing here

Second half of Dia's answer, a summary of the wholeeee situation straight from a direct victim

Sunny was the second to answer my ask, this is what I mean when I say clearly Sunny needs the most love and support out of all the victims (as far as ik) cus like how can you not man- also this is how I found out they contacted Randy's father and school, very big piece of lore (and you'll see why they have soon don't worry)

Lilith was the last to respond to my ask, this being how I found out that it was them specifically that contacted Randy's dad & school (which I commend them for, it was a very good move so bravo to them man genuinely)

Exhibit D - Evidence

And now the moment you've all been waiting for, if this doesn't convince you then shit idk what will-

This post was my first exposure to what Randy is ACTUALLY like and wowee what a doozy man, it started me down the rabbit hole that lead me to making this post rn (make sure you look at the notes [both comments and the reblogs] too those also have even more info aside from everybody FLAMING the fuck out of this kid lolol) Also GO OFF ON HIM GLITCH GET HIS ASS WOOOOO

(Sorry for the light mode jumpscare yet again, evidence is evidence)

1. Misgendering. What the fuck. (Dia's pronouns are they/them) 2. EW. Need I say more??? 3. This post is how I found my main 3 sources up until Dia answered my ask 4. You'll start to see that this post and the following posts show that he's SPECIFICALLY targeting fem-adjacent blogs (including blogs that are run by enbies that he assumes identify as femme and promptly misgenders) and generally being a misogynistic and transphobic BITCH

This post is an example of Randy A) Accusing a fellow minor of pedophilia (very carelessly and incorrectly might I add) B) Not even getting their age right? Hello??? C) This kid clearly does NOT know what the difference between slang and genuine predatory behavior is which shows how fucking SHELTERED this kid must be oh my GOD D) Another example of him misgendering and being misogynistic/transphobic

This post is more proof of him being misogynistic and sexually harassing people, and might I add a HORNY ASS PERVERT Rabid is actually someone I followed way before all this dude, I'm guessing that's how Randy found me unfortunately

After this screenie Dia answered my ask, so all the screenies beyond this point are straight from the Google Doc (some had links to their original posts, some didn't for the sake of anonymity which is completely understandable)

This post backs up what I said regarding the other screenie where Randy assumed Lilith was like 20, istg this kid does NOT know what fact checking is holy fuck This was a certified screenie I got from the Google Doc might I add

This post, another one provided by the Google Doc, is an example of him A) Harassing TADC ask blogs (and it leading to harassing the mods) B) Sexually harassing people and being misogynistic in general He just doesn't know when to quit huh

(Sorry again for the light mode jumpscare this is the last one I promise)

This one didn't have a post linked to it so I only found it cus of the Google Doc (so yay ig you don't have to click the links to the OG posts for more info anymore beyond this point), the mod spitting FACTS

Once again lovingly provided by the Google Doc, wowee this kid sure loves slurs

Conclusion

I know this might not get to many people, but I'm hoping it at least has some sort of positive impact, because I want to try my best to warn as many people as possible and keep him from having any more influence than he already has.

To the victims involved in this: PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEE PLS PLS PLS LMK IF I NEED TO CHANGE ANYTHING I TRIED MY ABSOLUTE BEST TO BE AS ACCURATE AND RESPECTFUL TO YOU GUYS AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE I'D REALLY APPRECIATE FEEDBACK IF I GOT/DID SOMETHING WRONG

Thank you for reading my ramblies on this important news, have a cookie for getting this far and you're an LGBTQIA+ ally 🍪 (plus an additional scoop of ice cream if you're queer 🍦)

And Happy Pride Month, TRANS PRIDE BABYYY

Plus some Anti-Randy spray for the road (lovingly provided by Sunny and Lilith) ✨

(in case of any confusion, the colors kind of mean different things but not really, it's not that important- but red is for trigger warning stuffs/disclaimers and general important things, green is for section titles, blue is for links, and that's about it really-- and yes I did make a subtle RGB joke. Sue me, I wanna be at least a little funny to make light of all this grim dark stuffs. All those super super serious call-out posts can be kind of depressing so I want to find the happy middle ground between serious and lighthearted, it gets the message across and it still feels important without being too much of a downer yanno? Anyway do tell me your thoughts in the comments after dropping a reblog, I would appreciate feedback on what you think of my writing style here :3) (Oh, and if you're wondering what purple means? It's a secret 🥰)

#randysworld-multi-fandom-fan/randysworld2009 #yo gabba gabba #the amazing digital circus #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #murder drones #smg4 #ygg #tadc #hh #hb #hv #hellaverse #md #super mario glitchy 4 #psa #important #transgender #trans

[skinreflectsthesun]

.

#Laughing at the fact that I’m going to be writing my dad a thoughtful little Father’s Day card #that is just filled with straight up lies. #what id rather say is this #thank you for making me aware of just how fucked up you are #thank you for spending the majority of my life convincing me my mom was the problem #thank you for never showing me what an actual loving and caring marriage looks like #thank you for making me feel like I have to always apologize but then telling me to stop apologizing #thank you for never coming to any of my soccer games but then pushing for the fact that you always had to work. #you actually didn’t you just didn’t care. #thank you for being a dick to my brother and making him feel like he had to go to extremes to be a man #thank you for calling me fat after I just had a baby. #thank you for causing conflict in my life during a sensitive time in my life where I’m trying to step into a role of motherhood #while also being a wife and daughter and trying to find myself again #thank you for always getting your feelings hurt but never wondering how you hurt mine. #thank you for never holding yourself accountable for your behavior and your actions #thank you for constantly guilting me by implying that you’ll die some day and I’ll feel bad #thank you for saying that I wouldn’t have any of the nice things in my life if it weren’t for my husband #my husband told me that’s just not true that I’m a good person who deserves good things regardless of if I’m with him or not. #thank you for cursing me by saying one day I’ll see how it feels to be you and how my son will treat me just like I treat you #he won’t. #because I’ll do better by him than you ever did for me. #anyways #happy Father’s Day #plz disregard this #I’m feeling things and need a space to put them

[gabe-lovebot]

councilor 3D model

i learnt 3d modelling from the ground up to bring him to life. he's yours now. do whatever you want with him

[link]

please credit me if you make something using the model (or even ping/link me to it, i would love to see what you made!)

currently available as a .blend, .fbx and an SFM port.

#hello councilnation i'm finally releasing him to the wild #have fun playing toys with him #ultrakill #councilor #councilor ultrakill #3d stuff #obviously with the councilor having just 1 full body image of him means that some stuff i had to improvise on #so you get to enjoy my headcanons on how he looks #(like obviously the wings & halo) #(but also the chestplate design) #but did you know that the councilor's canon design has subtle engravings on his forearm armor pieces? #i only barely noticed them when painting textures and i was floored #i had to add them #to the sfm anon and whoever else wants to use this for sfm stuff- #i did my best with a port for sfm and i'm quite proud of the result #but please be aware i have never used it before so if you find that something doesn't work as it should please please let me know!! #gonna pour my heart out in tags as always so close your eyes if you don't wanna see me being sentimental but #i'm not kidding when i say i learnt 3d modelling from the ground up for this #i have meddled with blender before but never actually came close to finishing a project #and i don't know how i did it and how i kept going #(i do know) (it was my friend encouraging me every time i showed him progress) #this was like 1 entire month in the making #but i'm so fucking proud of this and how it turned out and people's tags in my act 2 render genuinely were such a huge confidence boost #so thank you guys for liking it <3 #i'm still very much thinking of doing a version with just his bloodied head #but it might take a while because i want a break and i want to play warframe

[justablah56]

hmm I think instead of feeling bad I will simply project this bad onto The Character . for funsies .

#just blahs #not gonna do anything abt it bcs idk how i could but ovuehncke sparrow with scrupulosity ocd <3 #just consider with me sparrow being terrified of accidentally saying anything wrong or offending literally anyone #and her completely accidentally saying smthin offensive and trying to figure out how to properly deal with that #without just making the whole situation about herself rather than the person she actually offended #bcs shes afraid that makes her a bad person who just didnt care enough to be aware of herself #gets a bit venty past this point but guys im literally pinky promising you rn I'm ok and ill figure it out please no one bring it up to me #and nobody think about the fact that im projecting rn just think about sparrow ok #this is my way of dealing w similar stuff w/o making it about me bcs ik that thats a shitty thing to do and i need to work it out myself #aughhncns literally every time goddamnit . i accidentally do smthin wrong and then someone (very kindly !!!) tells me hey that was wrong #and then i have a breakdown about it and feel bad and overthink it for the next like week #jesus fucking christ ok it's fine im being patient with myself and i know no one thinks im a bad person #and i know that they know i didnt mean it #and i know that i did say smthin insensitive and thats just something i have to be aware of #and the fact that i said it doesn't mean that im a terrible horrific irredeemable person #i'm trying my best now to be aware of it and be better and think abt whst they said and that's all i can do and thats ok #its fine . #anyways . #also hi cookies if you see this genuinely thank you for telling me tho like i do appreciate it and i am ok dw

[decolonize-the-left]

Project 25. The Heritage Foundation.

It's behind every single anti-lgbt law pushed the last year. They are why Roe v Wade was overturned. They are successful, well funded, and a massive threat.

What you can do is educate yourself and others about it. Get to know your enemy. Protest. Wear pride pins. Put out your flags. Show solidarity. We are ALL under attack by this white supremacist christo-fascist group.

Remember when 2020 had kpop stans organizing on twitter and gen z using tik tok to make Trump meets flop while white vets made themselves frontline walls at BLM protests that were organized to handle shit like kettling thanks to their amazing black organizers? Remember how people actually Showed up to those protests for awhile?

We need that cross-generational Fuck The System energy again. Not just for a summer this time. This needs to go passed the election.

They're playing a long game and so do we.

Get inspired.

Their goals include saving the children and traditional family, and "to lay the groundwork for a White House more friendly to the right."

This translates to destroying the EPA, disability rights, and criminalizing being LGBT. Also to overthrow the US government, as stated in their manifesto.

They want to replace our democracy with a theocracy. No Republican in office was elected without their approval.

They're the kind of right that makes being LGBT punishable by death. That makes it a crime just to exist where others can see you. They want librarians who work in libraries that make LGBT books accessible to be registered sex offenders. They want you prosecuted and even specify that no mercy should be shown to people the "left" likes (ex: immigrants, black people, etc)

That's the extreme right who's been manipulating our laws.

And they plan to make things a lot worse within the first 180 days a Republican is elected president.

Source

If you don't have plans coming up.... Start organizing them. We will be okay if we work together.

We will be okay if we work together.

If we have each other, we'll be okay. We have to rely on each other. You have to be reliable. You, person reading this, have to show up. That's how this works.

I have your back if you have mine. Do not leave me to the wolves and I won't leave you.

#current events #tumblr #news #important #supernatural