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#i just happen to have a different take that's all
hoshigray · 1 day
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This is my first time requesting something but HEAR ME OUT, "Slow Cuddle-fucking with og Sukuna while he is holding (and caressing) Reader (His wife) tightly and praising her (with him having size(difference) and breeding kink) oneshot please please please PLEASESSS😭
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𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: NAH CUZ I SEE THE VISION, HOLD ON–
⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size difference - monster-fucking (he got 2 dicks, y'all) - double penetration; anal and vaginal - spooning dp position - breast fondling + nipple play - breeding kink - clitoral play (pinching and swiping) - dacryphilia - pet names ([little]dove, good girl, my wife, woman) - soft! kuna, but not too OOC - mention of drool/spit and tears.
⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k
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“Stay still, woman…Mmnnn, good girl, nice and easy…”
It’s not a rarity for Sukuna to have his hands on you as you two slept through the night. After all, he is the King of Curses; asking permission to touch his is beneath him. You were made for him to hold – sculpted for his cursed hands to touch – everyone else was far behind or had no standing compared to your demonic husband. And with you both sharing a futon every night, who’s supposed to tell him to keep his hands to himself?
You, his little spouse, knew of this. Marrying the King of Curses was something you never imagined would happen — let alone falling in love with the giant man! You’ve always had dreams of becoming a sweet little partner to someone; for that to be fulfilled by the cursed man who could kill thousands in the blink of an eye is astounding. 
And, of course, being a wife entails all the duties accompanying the package. Especially now, as you two lie together on the floor, nude bodies nestled close on the futon above the tatami floor, and your naked figure trembling from the insertion of one of Sukuna’s paired cock. And your heart drops at the second one brushing up against the crevice of your ass when he pushes the one inside your throbbing, velvety channel. 
“Mmmph…! Sukuna, no,” you whined, your butt inching away from the second member. “I can’t handle both—“
“Don’t lie; you’ve done it before and did it well,” a hand brings your waist to him. “Or maybe I should just have one of the concubines take care of me, seeing as though my own wife is neglecting their duties.” 
He wouldn’t do that; Sukuna’s interest in his insignificant mistresses had long been diminished once he took you up as his bride, practically collecting dust as he hadn’t visited them since you shared a bed with him. Now, he uses them as tools to probe you. And he has to hold back the mischievous snicker when your eyes widen with anxiousness, wrapping your arms around his neck in desperation.
“N–No, please!” You pleaded; it was the only sufficient approach. “I’ll be good to you, I promise!”
The four-eyed curse scoffs. “Then do what you’re supposed to,” Each crimson orb takes in information about your bashful expression, “And attend to your husband like a wife should.”
Further complaints cease at his command, so you quiet down and arch your behind to him submissively. Sukuna takes your initiation with his hungry bottom hand on your ass, squeezing the flesh as you guide his other dick to your lubed asshole. With a hum, he pushes himself and forces you to take his cocks with your bottom, needing a few seconds to breathe when your holes reach the base of his members.
“Good girl,” he says to your ear to make you shudder, and he lifts your leg with the hand that finished groping your asscheek. “Obeying me so well like always…”
He begins to move without a signal, slowly pulling himself in and out of your warm wetness that coats his length with your slick. You can’t help but grip the girth limbs that massage your insides, involuntarily throbbing on them with shaky breaths.  
“Mmmaah, ohhhmyG—Mmm!” Speech isn’t easy, even with his upper left hand cupping your cheeks. And your brows furrow as the upper right sneaks to grope a breast. “Faaahh, Suk..una, I’m too full already…”
“Mmm? Is that so?” Sukuna asks with a patronizing tone, licking the helix of your ear to hear you gasp. “But we’ve barely started yet, my wife. Don’t bore me before I can enjoy you yet.” 
His hips go at a gradual cadence that has you keening a mess, the sensation of the veins of his cocks felt by the walls of your holes. You howl silently, not wanting to make too much noise.
But that doesn’t fly with your husband, speaking to your ear with that hoarse voice. Almost has you melting as he squishes with your cheeks, “Let it out, princess,” he commands. “I want to hear that voice; don’t you dare hide that from me.”
Fuck, the way you felt on his dicks was so fucking good, having the cursed behemoth burrow his face into the cubby of your neck. Slow kisses on your skin segway to sucks that should mark for later. He could never get enough of how small you were up against him. His giant palm swallowed your tit, your ass bouncing with every thrust, and how damn tight you were as you accommodated the two members making your entrances busy. 
Goddamn it, he bites his lip, dialing up the speed of his ruts a bit. Scratching your inner walls has you squeaking louder, unable to stop yourself when he grinds his hips after a sudden grim pound. So warm and snug for him as if you were meant for him. He knew you were meant for him — taking his huge, fat shafts with no objections, just arching your back further so the sensation could be more pleasurable like the loyal, little pet you are. “Hmngh…! Yeah, just like that, little dove; keep clenching around me like that…”
Restraint was gone long ago, letting your voice and shrieks fly out and fill the quiet bedroom. The sound of his skin shaking against your ass, the heat of your cheeks making it hard to think, and the shivers crawling your spine with every graze to your sweet spots. Everything feels like a haze, your brain too clouded to think outside this moment. 
And then you sense the hand on your breast let go, slithering down to your unattended clitoris, which has your eyes shoot wide as your demon husband presses down. “—Khhff! Nooo, ‘Kunaa, you mustn’t…!”  
He lifts a brow with a grin; you dare question him? “And why shouldn’t I?” He pinches the delicate bud, resulting in a scream sneaking past your lips. “Hmm? Plead for yourself.”
“Becau—Ahhh! Mmmm, I’ll cum. I’m gonna cumm…”
“Then don’t,” Sukuna doesn’t remove his digits playing with your clit, and the hand on your chin pulls your face to look at him. “Cum without my permission, and I’ll make sure to not be so kind next time...” His words carry a warning filling your bones with apprehension, yet his soft lips greet yours and he hums into your mouth. The kiss serves as a distraction from his thick digits gently swiping on the pearl.
The rhythm of his hips, however, increases in speed and prompts more moans to be taken by Sukuna. Drool trickles down your lips, same with tears that welled up earlier from the insertion of his girth inside your ass. Your eyes roll at the jab to your silky walls, breaking the sweet yet passionate kiss to cry out as your husband’s fat balls smack your ass. 
“—Ooooo, fuuuck, I can’t,” your eyelids shield your vision, using the rest of your senses to indulge in this euphoric pleasure. “‘Kuna, I’m so close, so—Ooohh!”
“Me too…Ghhh! Shit, me too…” Sukuna presses his hot face to yours when you throw it back, licking the tears off your sweaty skin. You looked so stunning like this, all disheveled and immodest because of him. “Gonna take my load, huh?” He licks the sweat off your shoulder and bites when you don’t respond. “Answer me, Y/n.”
“—Ahhh, yes!”
That’s not enough. “I said,” he pinches your clit again as he gives slow yet rough ruts to your holes. And he can tell by your twitching that you’re doing everything in our power not to come. “Answer me.”
Holy shit, this was borderline torture. “Mmmph! OhhhLord, ‘Kunaaa, I want you to fill me up. Pleasee, pleasepleaseee, I wanna be full; wanna be all ‘round and fat with your child…!”
“Keh, dumb pet; who said I wanted a brat, huh?” He scoffs, yet you can hear the groan as he licks and sucks on your neck while squishing your hot, tear-stricken cheeks. “Fine then; go on and cum with me. So damn needy for my seed…”
Sukuna brings your chin for another steamy kiss, his lower left hand holding yours as his pelvis goes at an irregular pace. Your muffled shrills are taken by feisty lips, teeth clashing with his fangs before sucking on his tongue, and the upper left hand releases your chin to caress your chest once more, tweezing the nipple along with swipes to your clit.
Release gradually creeps up your shaky frame, crying to his mouth when your chasm and anus pucker around the lengths that graze your walls with the tips. Sukuna is not too far behind you, pumping his load into you with a few harsh plunges, making your contracting cunt and rear full of his hot and thick semen. The lower right hand propping your leg up leaves soft kneads on your inner thigh, hoisting it up further so his shafts are deep enough until his pulsing balls meet your ass.
You withdrew from his lips to breathe, your figure quivering through the aftershocks, and your slit and asshole still flutter around his girths. And you mewl when he kisses your cheek and temple.
“Mmm, that’s my princess,” he purrs while placing your leg down to massage your waist. “Such a good dove…”
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© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ✩ dividers by @/benkeibear.
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“Why’s she so rude?” (She’s Not)- Stereotypes, pt2
So I'm sure that you all thought I was going to give a blow-by-blow list of "visual stereotypes to avoid". I'm going to be honest here, I thought about it, and figured it would be redundant. My page already includes sensitivity on depicting Black people. So instead, I'm going to focus on stereotypical "character" concepts, so that you can 1) not write it in your stories and/or 2) recognize it in media (fiction and reality!) and in life!
Two major resources: the Jim Crow Museum website is an EXCELLENT resource to understand the imagery of antiblack racism in U.S. history and society. The other, White Tears, Brown Scars by Ruby Hamad. The book focuses on the many racist stereotypes projected onto women of color and how that purposeful, systemic negative perception of us bleeds into every aspect of our lives- specifically by white women/white feminists who believe that they are not contributing to said oppression.
I'll start with Black women, just because I’m passionate about it (obviously) and there are so many things I wish I had and hadn’t seen growing up. We deserve better by the year of our lord 2024.
TRIGGER WARNINGS: mention of sexual assault, assault
Misogynoir
What I want everyone to understand, before I get into this, is the concept of intersectionality, and more specifically, misogynoir. Misogynoir is the specific type of contempt and prejudice that Black women face at the intersection of race and gender. I say this because you might read these things and go “oh, as a woman, I experience these things!” I get it, but I want you to PAUSE, and remember, that right now, we are talking about Black women’s experiences. And those will often be different, due to that intersection of identities. And that understanding will have an effect on how you understand (and thus, write) those experiences.
The Jezebel
The link goes into much deeper detail, but the Jezebel is the idea that a Black woman or girl who is sexual is somehow “fast”, “salacious”, “a hoe”, “driven by desire/doesn’t understand purity”, and at its worst, unable to be r*ped/a victim because she is less valuable yet somehow inherently seductive to men.
This gets thrown around CONSTANTLY in media and life for Black women (my first experience of treated like I was ‘fast’ was when I was like… twelve?) One major, visible example is Megan Thee Stallion. Meg has a college degree, she likes anime, she’s a brilliant rapper, and has an entire personality and struggles she’s shared… But she also likes to dress scantily clad and have sex. By doing those things, she ‘lessened in value’. And because of this, when she was shot at and assaulted, even Black people questioned her character, rather than understanding that she could have been anyone, and she still wouldn’t have deserved to be assaulted. She's not allowed to be multi-faceted; she "brought it on herself".
Black girls and women who happen to take charge of their own sexuality, to the discomfort of society, are treated as Jezebels- as whores. Think about it- if one of Taylor Swift's recent boyfriends shot at her, would the media question her value or her word? Question her equivalently high ‘body count’?
Question how you write your Black woman- she can enjoy sex! She can be sexy! We love to see it! But if you're punishing her specifically, or judging her within the narrative, versus your other characters who are allowed to safely explore and act upon their sexuality… Check your judgment! Why do you feel the way you do about this character? Why do you think that your Black character is the one that should be judged for her actions. Would you feel this way if it were a nonblack character?
The Sapphire/Angry Black Woman
Ohohoho, I have infinite amounts of feelings about this one.
This is the "sassy Black friend", the "aggressive Black boss", “step on me angry mommy”, the one who does the z formation and makes everyone "uncomfortable". She’s not allowed to be confident, assertive, or self-assured- she’s arrogant, rude, and aggressive.
I discussed it in part one, but I'll reemphasize it: your Black woman doesn't have to be an ‘Angry Black Woman’ in order to be angry! Just like any other human being on the planet, we are allowed to be mad. (In my honest opinion, we have a lot to be mad about, but I digress 😅)
If the only character that ever gets angry is your Black character, I want you to consider why. What is she angry at? Was this something you wanted the reader to understand or empathize with? Are we supposed to disagree? How does everyone around her treat her anger? Is her anger righteous? Is she always shut down or dismissed for it? Is it only meant to defend her friends, but never herself? Does the narrative suggest that it’s only good in use of others and not herself? Would this be the same reaction if one of the nonblack characters was angry? Is this something you did on purpose?
Very often, we're called 'angry Black women/girls' to invalidate our emotions. My therapist once said anger is a protective emotion. We might be hurt, overstimulated, sad, depressed, frightened, anxious… But we are often not allowed the grace of others digging deeper to see that. Even if the other characters do not understand her anger, even if her motives are not meant to be understood at the moment… you as the writer should be aware. But if every time it’s time to show anger or upset, it’s your Black character… consider why this is the one you thought would best convey that message, and how your Black readers might feel seeing that this character (who may not even be the ‘bad guy’) is the one that is ‘only’ angry. No other development, no other emotions, just… there to be mad.
I take this one to heart, as someone who feels very passionately about things… this is one of those things where I wish, in life and in media, people would have more grace for Black women. We're human, too. We have feelings, too.
The Mammy
This one isn’t as visually blatant anymore in media as it was in the past (like every Mammy doesnt look like Aunt Jemima), but you may have seen this one as "the mommy figure". The "lesbian that parents the silly gay boys". The one that’s always encouraging the ship of the white boys, but never the one allowed to be in the ship (especially when her ship is canon!)
A good example of this was how people expected Jessica Drew from ATSV to be "more loving" to Gwen, rather than the mentor and boss she was (plus, as a Black woman with a Black mother… trust and believe, she was quite direct and gentle). And in comparison to her counterpart, white man Peter B. Parker, was decried far worse for similar detrimental actions.
The Mammy often serves in opposition to the Jezebel and Sapphire/Angry Black Woman. What makes the Mammy particularly annoying is that it implies that the only good Black woman character is a ‘nice’, demure, unthreatening, homely, motherly figure whose job it is to make sure to center the (usually) white ones. The Mammy is expected to coddle everyone, to her own detriment. She's a ‘good Black’ because she causes no issue, raises no fuss, never shows a negative feeling, knows that she has to ‘be strong’ but to always defer because the white characters know best. She’s ‘not a threat’, and that’s why she’s ‘allowed’ to be around. We shouldn’t have to be those things in order for our stories to be heard and understood, in order to be empathized with or treated like someone of value.
The Strong Black Woman
If I never hear this phrase again in my life, if we eradicate it from future generations for Black girls and women, I'll cry of joy lmao. I hate it, and it's not for the reasons most nonblack people would expect. Lord, this one. Anyway. The ‘strong Black woman’ is meant to protect everyone, no help needed! Whenever something is wrong and we all need a pickup, here she comes to ‘let me do it’ and everything is going to be okay! She did all the necessary suffering so that your characters don't have to! She can sweep in and save the day!
Now here's the dissonance kicks in. This one on its surface probably sounds like a good thing. She's a hero! She’s resilient! She's great! Who wouldn't want to be superwoman? Who wouldn't want to reject being a love interest, all women are always love interests! Let us be the badass that kicks ass and shows the men what for! Who wouldn’t want that, 24/7?!
The answer: US. 👍🏾🤣
This is a long, separate conversation on its own, but we have to understand that Black women (women of color, really) and White women do not always share the same end goals and understanding of "strong woman character" or even feminism. We certainly aren't always the love interest. Very usually not, in fact. We are always pushed to the side. We are already the hero in our lives, we're already the "strong woman".
Not everyone yearns to be the Singular Hero who will Fix It All as many of us are already expected to do. It's exhausting having to swallow your own needs for everyone else all the time, especially when it's suggested that you have no value otherwise if you don't. Heroism is Exhausting, and it's something worth looking into when you’re characterizing your Black girls and women. I’m not saying that we can’t be strong! We are, and it’s impressive! But I also want us to add some nuance to that strength, the way we would for any other character. What it means to have community, rather than to do it all alone. How even if she wants to be the hero (and that’s okay! That’s fine!) how it would still wear on her. Surrounding your Black girl character with unconditional support, to have a lover that actually wants to pull some weight- that's something many of us actually would like to see, because we're usually shafted to the side as 'someone who can do it all herself' (in order to hide that no one thinks we need or are deserving of the help).
It's okay to let your Black woman and girls show weakness, to rest, to be taken care of! It's not "less feminist" to accept that we're humans that need help and can't carry it all, too. That it’s okay to want to feel valued and protected. Because god knows, I wish I didn’t grow up strong and resilient, I wish I grew up knowing that the world cared that I was safe.
Standards of Beauty
These standards are not the same! I've mentioned it before in my lesson on skin tones, but very often when we think of "beauty", it’s easy to fall into the idea of whiteness. Pale skin, thin hair textures, etc. If those are our existing standards of beauty, then it doesn’t matter what any of us look like- we’re ugly! When I was in high school, I remember a classmate saying that Swedish people were the most beautiful people because of "white hair and pale skin". Without even meaning to, that guy basically said everyone darker than a stack of loose leaf printer paper was ugly by proxy of not being Nordic White (no matter how pretty they actually might be!!) 🤣
It’s also of note that whiteness/paleness tends to be connected with innocence and cleanliness in western culture, while blackness/darkness tends to be considered dirty, sinful, fearful. Now, while the origin of this idea may not be racist itself, when you spend hundreds of years implying that Blackness is bad- to the point that, in the U.S. they came up with an entire slur one step past “negro” (meaning ‘Black’) to deem you less than- it’s hard to say that the societal connotation didn’t apply.
Now we've already discussed working on describing our Black characters better! I continually remind you all that you should be describing them as wonderfully made as you do your white characters. Keep in mind that we live in a world where from day one when we enter the world, Blackness and Black features are not seen as beautiful nor emphasized. Whiteness is the standard of beauty that we, for a long time and still, are expected to adhere to. If you'd like to do better by your characters, remember that you don't have to give them "white features" or use "white" as an adjective to do that!
Black Women as Women
“There was literally nothing, not a thing, that a white woman could ever have that was worth more than her sexual virtue, and this obligated mandatory chasteness and sexual vulnerability… If the most important thing a woman has is virtue, and only white women can have virtue, then by definition, only white women can be women.” Ruby Hamad, ‘Only White Women Can Be Damsels’, White Tears, Brown Scars
Often, Black women by definition are not included under the societal banner of “women”, from our features, to our personalities, to our 'role' in life. "True Womanhood" is denied us, cis and trans, because of our Blackness. The things that make women ‘women’, we are not included under, because systemically, the only ‘women’ that were meant to mean anything were white.
I bring up Megan Thee Stallion again. Meg is probably one of the most beautiful, feminine women I've ever seen in my life. Men still call her a man, due to her height, due to her confidence, and due to their insecurities. Same with Serena Williams; Serena is damn near built like a god in my eyes. She was told she was manly from the beginning of her career, no matter how beyond skilled she was in women's tennis. Even when she damn near died giving birth- the most basic of 'tasks' women are seen as having in this society, it didn't matter. Black women are 'less womanly', 'less valuable', 'less in need' of that protection and identity that society swears Women™ need (and not in the honest way that we do need protection).
Consider that you're making sure that your Black women have the options of range of gender expression and emotions (and if they aren't allowed to, is that on purpose). If you're only ever creating us and we're in service of some dainty white woman and never the other way around... consider how that may reflect what you think our role is in your story, and in your mind.
Adultification
“Awkward moment when Rue is some black girl and not the innocent blond girl you imagine.” twitter: sw4q
It has been shown that Black girls the same age as their white girl counterparts are deemed older and less in need of protection, and supposed to 'be more mature'. Imagine that. Deemed inherently less innocent, due to your skin color. Having to parent our siblings, get jobs to contribute, do all the cleaning, and more. Yet, when we act with the maturity that we've been forced to grow into, we're "fast". A little 12-year-old girl, now to society, the Jezebel. All because she wanted to try pink lip gloss or wear a skirt; things that little tween girls might try to understand the big world around them and push boundaries. Now she's a woman, now she can never be a victim. Now she can be beat on and hurt and it's her fault.
I explain this for two reasons: One, for you to think about how your write your Black girls, and Two, for you to hold more grace for Black girls- real and fake. Do you hold her to a higher standard than your white characters of similar age? Does she inherently seem less innocent to you for reasons outside the plot? Is she as human to you as your other characters? Is she allowed to be a child? To act like one? To make mistakes? Are you as empathetic or understanding about that childishness as you are towards nonblack characters? Do you make these decisions on purpose?
It's not like Black girls can never be YA protags or anything- ofc we can. But keep in mind that she's not somehow automatically "stronger" by proxy of her Blackness, that she'd "be tougher". She's a kid. Let her be one.
Conclusion
There’s a LOT you have to consider when writing Black girls and women. I’m not going to sit here and say it’s easy, because being Black, and being a Black woman, is not easy. If you’re stressed reading it, imagine being stressed living it lmao. It’s a constant chain of quick-time events every day of your life to prevent nonblack nuclear meltdown in response to your every single action. I’m not going to apologize for it, either.
That being said, I don’t expect you to understand everything, especially not all at once. I just want you all to keep these things in mind, to question yourself when you’re writing your character- are you treating her differently on purpose? Or are you treating her differently because of a bias you might not even notice you have? It might help to go back, to read how you treat all of your characters. Or, if you’ve never written before, to maybe outline the traits of your characters and figure out where things balance out. As always, all you can do is practice at it. Because it's the thought that counts, but the action that delivers.
Whew, I'm actually emotionally strained after this one. My chest is beating fast. Let me go get some groceries now.
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evilminji · 2 days
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You knooooowwww... >.>
The only difference, technically, between a school in the Zone? And on Earth? Is the American government won't recognize your Zone diploma...
Not accredited. But like..... I'm JUST SAYING? If you didn't try to pass your school off as some Big Ivy League type? Pulled the "oh yeah, you'd never have heard of it, it's local." And the COMPUTERS say it's legit?
How many people will dig deeper?
If you legitimately have the knowledge, you legitimately have the knowledge. Not YOUR fault you left out the whole "extra-dimensional" part. It makes folk nervous! And nervous folks get stabby.
So like? If you were ALREADY planning to "Move" as you euphemistically put it? Talked it over with your VERY concerned folks and friends? Who do NOT like the look of the steady but concerning rise of Anti-Ghost Powers That Be? Who finally put their foot down and reminded you that you are a TEENAGER and it's NOT your responsibility to fix the world?
Well...
Fuck those guys, I guess. You'll miss the old house, but Team "Taking our ball and going literally anywhere else" makes some good points. Why ARE you putting up with this?
And honestly, you've never SEEN your dad have so much fun. Him and the Reality Realtor just sorta... Vibe. Himbo to Himbo communications. Smatters of advanced physics. Fudge. It's great.
They move the portal. Collapse the old one in a way that makes it impossible to recover or recreate. You... kinda don't want to ask. They had that "mad scientist glint" in their eyes.
And while everyone's checking out brochures to different realities? You? Head off to the nearest College. It's the Zone, so technically you could go to any of endless billions. But you'd like your education some time this century.
Cue! Danny Fenton! Entering?
Academia's wet dream. A sprawling CITY of a college. Where the classes are on EVERYTHING and the price is FREE. People have Obsessions okay?? They NEED to teach. Debate and discuss! Study! Right papers and read them! It's been going on a while! And what happens when you find a subject that's NOT covered?
YOU COVER IT!
It's like if New York was a College. Good fucking luck find the dorms. Sleep on the floor like the rest of us, you casual.
Danny was Not Prepared ™.
He loves it though.
Classes on aeronautics next making the perfect sandwich, shoved next to historical basketry, stacked above alien slam poetry. But only on Tuesdays! Ever shifting. Breaking his Fenton Born Adhd in to a fine PASTE to be smeared upon bread. Happy mental stimulation chemicals go Brrrrrrrr
If it wasn't wildly inappropriate, he would LICK IT to claim it as his then wrap around it and gaurd like a territorial cat. He thought he HATED school! Turns out he just hated high-school. College though? College, or at least ZONE College, is fuckin AWESOME.
He's sit in SO MANY random classes just cause.
Picked up and dropped them at a whim. When they no longer sparked joy. He's been a flighty bitch and for once? No one CARES. No one says "you HAVE to commit and stick with this FOREVER once you choose this" and? It just? It's so FREEING! He's learned so MUCH!
He's probably gonna come back!
Which? Is how a deeply, DEEPLY weird aerospace engineer from supposedly bumfuck NOWHERE, end up working at Wayne Industries. He's.... a lil crazy behind the eyes. Ha ha... CONCERNING ™!
Dude sleeps on the lab floor. Has weirdly spotty knowledge. Can be an unprecedented genius one second and not know who the current president is the next. Doesn't know what DAY it is. Forgets to eat. Tried to make a fusion reactor out of the break room toaster before Sandra from accounting distracted him with pictures of her cat.
It's like he wanders through life blissfully unaware that he is both terrifying and about three seconds from killing them all. Then FUCKING TRIPS because he forgot to tie his shoelaces again.
Who hired this man?
WHY!?
I mean, we KNOW why. Probably to put him on a watch list. But? He's like a terrifying murder puppy! Built like a tank! That's stoned out of its mind half the time. And have you HEARD his college stories? That CAN'T be legal. Was this guy raised in a cult!? Aaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!????
@hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @babbling-babull @dcxdpdabbles @hypewinter
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f1llover · 3 days
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LIST - LANDO NORRIS
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summary: Lando and his girlfriend make a list
warnings: smut
Lando and I had a list. It wasn't a normal list like a shopping list. It was a slightly...different list. When we started dating, I wasn't very experienced in sex, so Lando and I made a list of places and things we wanted to do in our most intimate moments.
The beach
It was a very hot evening. Lando wanted to go out for dinner, but I had food ready in the fridge, so we decided to go for a walk along the beach. When we got there, there was no one around. We sat on the sand for a while until he lightly brushed our lips together.
 What was supposed to be a kiss turned into something bigger and before we knew it, Lando was on top of me, kissing my neck.
"Are you sure? We don't have to do this now," Lando asks me, pulling away from my neck a little, while I look around to see that the beach is still empty.
"It's okay, it's just us," I whisper and he kisses my neck again, while running his hands up my legs. I quickly slip my hands under his t-shirt and caress his muscles.
He unbuttons my pants and pulls them down with my panties. He removes his T-shirt and I move my hands to his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers.
He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a condom. I smile at him as he puts the latex on his cock.
"Were you expecting that?" He smiles at me too and nods, then places the tip against my clitoris.
"I thought we were going to do this in the car, but I like it better here"
I let out a laugh that is soon replaced by a moan from me and a sigh from Lando when he finally enters me.
He starts with slow thrusts, but when I wrap my legs around his waist, he starts to move faster, making me moan louder. He presses our lips together to muffle our moans. I also wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to bring our bodies closer together, which was almost impossible.
"Baby..."
Lando put his head on my neck and began to leave kisses all over my skin
"Come on baby, I'm almost there too"
I arched my back and felt Lando squeeze my waist when we cum at the same time
Our breathing becomes ragged as he lies against my chest. 
"Baby...?" 
He lifts his head and smiles, leaving a kiss on my forehead.
"I know, we have to go before someone comes along" 
We dressed quickly and held hands, heading for the car to drive home.
One less thing on the list
2. Wearing his shirt
After several races since January, summer vacation has finally arrived. Lando and I decided to go with our friends to the French Islands. It was very hot, so we went to the beach almost every day.
 After another day under the sun and being in the water, we head back to the hote. Lando and Max spend some more time in the hotel lobby playing pool, while Pietra and I go to our rooms.
Arriving at my room shared with Lando, I head straight for the bathroom. I take off my clothes and quickly step into the warm water. I take a quick shower and when I get out of the bathroom, I head for my suitcase. I try to find a baggy t-shirt, but when I don't, I go to Lando's bag, grabbing a McLaren t-shirt with Lando's name and number on the back. I take my book and go out onto the balcony, sitting down on the small bench there.
A few minutes later, I hear the door open and suddenly I hear Lando's voice
"Fuck's sake, God damn it"
I take my eyes off my book and look back, seeing Lando standing in the middle of the hotel room
"What? What's wrong? What happened?"
He slowly approaches me, looking at my body
"My shirt... on you. You're so fucking hot"
I let out a laugh and stand up, putting my book down on the table.
"Really? I didn't know you liked seeing me in your t-shirt." I move closer to him, when I get close he pulls me by the waist.
"Fuck I'm going to fuck you like this" He pushes me to the wall and attacks my neck.
I let out several moans and close my eyes, knowing that his lips would leave a mark for tomorrow. He moves his hands down to my thighs and pulls me up, making me jump and wrap my legs around his waist.
I press our lips together and he brings one of his hands between my legs. He pulls my shorts and panties aside and slips a finger inside me. I lean my head against the wall and move my waist slightly against his finger.
He adds another finger and I let out more moans. I wrap my arms around Lando's neck to hold myself up. Lando takes advantage and removes his fingers from me and pulls his cock out of his pants. He starts spreading pre-cum all over his erection.
In one swift movement he puts me down again and slaps my ass. 
"Turn to the wall and wait"
I turn with my back to the wall and lean my forehead against it. I hear Lando opening something and then coming closer. I look over and see him putting the condom on
"I'm going to start taking the pill," I whisper as he gets closer, pressing the tip of his cock into my clitoris.
"I think that's a good idea," Lando smiles and soon he's inside me. I let out a loud sigh and push my ass up, resting my hands on the wall
"Shit, my name looks so good on your back" I continue to moan and sigh, along with Lando.
I feel his hands go up my back and Lando grabs my hair, then pulls lightly. He brings his mouth close to my neck and begins to leave kisses and marks all over my neck and back of my neck, while he increases his thrusts
I bite my lip as I feel my orgasm hit and wash over my body. Lando lets out an even louder moan and with one last thrust he buries himself in me, cumming hard. 
He pulls out of me and turns me towards him. We go to bed and he lays me down, then walks to the bathroom and takes a damp towel and runs it over my hot body.
He lies down next to me and I rest my head on his chest, feeling his heart beat faster as I get closer
3. Dressing room
After a horrible free practice, where Lando ran into the barriers, he passes everyone in the pit box, completely angry. I follow him into his room and knock on the door.
"Baby, it's me. Can I come in?"
I hear some grumbling and something fall to the floor. 
"Sure"
I slowly open the door and see his helmet on the floor next to the small bed he had in his room. I see him unzip his racing suit and sit down on the bed.
"I just screw up," Lando whispers with his head between his hands. I walk over and sit down next to him. I take his hands away from his face and smile slightly
"No, you don't. They said it was the car's problem, not yours. You couldn't have done anything." I caressed his hand as he looked down at the ground.
"If I hadn't braked so much on lap 16..." I touch his face with my hand and nod.
"No. You can't blame yourself for something that wasn't your fault. And it was only practice. The engineers will see what happened and improve the car so you're ready for qualifying and the race."
He turns his face to me and smiles slightly
"Thank you, love. That made me feel a little better" He whispers and I move closer, leaning our foreheads together
"I know how to make you even better"
I bring our lips together and place my hands on Lando's chest, slowly pushing him to lie down on the small bed. I pull down his suit and the rest of his clothes, watching his cock bounce against his abdomen. When I get up to get the condoms from his backpack, Lando lifts his body and looks at me.
"Take your clothes off too. I like to see your breasts swaying as you ride me."
I feel my cheeks redden a little, but I nod. I hand Lando the condom and start to take off all my clothes. When I'm naked, I see Lando smiling mischievously at me. I walk over to him and sit on his lap.
"We can scratch the idea of having sex in your dressing room too," I whisper and raise my waist, then sit down on Lando.
"Yes, babygirl" he mumbles against my lips and I continue to sit on Lando, making my breasts bounce against his chest.
He holds one of my breasts and kisses down to the other. I let out more moans and grab Lando's hair, pulling on it. He switches breasts, giving the same attention to the other and I let out louder moans and sighs.
 With a few more sits, I feel the knot in my stomach explode. Lando holds my waist and raises his head, looking at me. He gives a few sloppy thrusts and cums inside the condom.
I rest my head on Lando's shoulder, taking a deep breath. A few minutes later, we hear a noise at the door.
"Lando, we're waiting for you for the interviews." Oscar's voice echoes in Lando's room and I let out a low laugh.
"Yes, I'll be right there. One moment"
I lie down on the bed and stare at Lando as he gets dressed. He looks at me and before he leaves, he leaves a kiss on my forehead.
"Stay here until I get back. I won't be long"
One less thing on the list.
581 notes · View notes
luveline · 3 days
Note
HI MLLLL! I absolutely loved your fainting fic with James! Can you write like a part a part 2 or like a follow up where reader starts realizing that James isn’t as bad as she thought and she falls for him as he takes care of her bc he’s really worried? I love them sm 🥹
James takes care of you when you faint
James is acting weirder than usual… sort of… nice? fem, 1.2k
The days after you faint are just as hot, but you come into work. You can’t afford to miss it, and it’s not as though you’ll make the same mistake twice. 
The memory of what happened is hazy at the start. James had just opened the window, the breeze that filtered in cooling your hot skin. You’d felt sick, you’d tried to stand, and your head had gone blank. 
You woke with your face in James’ hand. You can remember it if you think about it enough, his head tilted down toward you, the sunshine on his skin, his soft smile. He’d felt like a different person. 
You’d felt different. 
“Can you send me that information from the lab, please?” 
You glance away from your computer, eyes tired. “Sorry?” 
“For the, uh, Mr. Nguyen?” James asks. “You didn’t send them to me. I can’t do them if you don’t send them.” 
“Right.” You blink away the phantom of his hand on your cheek. “Okay.” 
“Are you feeling alright?” 
That’s all he asks. Every day since you passed out, at various times and in various ways. Are you okay? Are you alright? Is it too hot in here? Do you want to swap desks with me? That last one had been a little patronising. You’d told him to leave you alone. Your desk is right next to the radiator in winter, it’s prime real estate, and you’re not giving it up just because you got a bit hot. 
“I’m fine,” you murmur, turning back to your computer to open outlook. “Just thinking.” 
“About what?” 
“About you not talking to me.” 
“Funny.” 
You drag and drop the paperwork for the tests he’d wanted. It’s easy to render an invoice but you hate doing it because it involves a lot of talking back and forth with clients. James, on the other hand, loves to talk. 
“There, sent it,” you say.
“Thank you.” 
Awkward. You pretend to be busier than you are for a few minutes, stealing company time without remorse. James types up an email beside you, the click of his keys quick and loud in your ears. 
Remus pops a pen lid across the way, scribbling onto a post it note that he sticks on his monitor. You know what time it is from the sounds alone. A half a minute later, Sirius slinks up from the front of the office to wrap his arm around Remus’ shoulders, sing-songing, “You’re coming with me, handsome.” 
“Are you coming?” Remus asks James. 
There’s a lapse of quiet. You stare at your computer, aware of a silent conversation, but not privy to its content. “I think I’ll stay,” James says eventually. 
“Okie dokie. Y/N, do you want to come, lovely?” Remus asks. “It’s not too hot.” 
“I’m fine,” you say, “thanks. Thank you.” 
You don’t feel like yourself since you fainted. You’d hoped it would go away once you had a better night’s sleep, flooded your system with cold water and good food, but you can’t kick it. You have no energy, no want to do more than turn up for work and go home again, and you know what it is that’s making you feel this way, but you can’t admit it to yourself. It crops up in your mind unbidden and you push it back down. 
“Sirius never used to act like that.” 
“What?” 
“Sirius. He was never like that when we were growing up. Love makes him pathetic.” 
Love is a tender touch. Sirius had laid his arm over Remus’ shoulder without any hug or kiss, but it was as loving as either. To touch someone like they need a kind hand. 
Like James had held your face. His arm behind your back as he led you to the break room. 
“Do you wanna come with me?” James asks. 
You hold in a second confused, What? He’s standing now, you hadn’t noticed him moving, his water bottle in hand as he pushes his chair back under the desk. 
“Don’t wanna leave you here and have you smash your head in when there’s no one around. Imagine the clean up.” 
You get up on impulse. You grab your drink, and the back of your chair, and you stand there wondering if you’re about to be dizzy again. Your chest feels tight, but that weight of unconsciousness doesn’t come. 
“Hey,” James says. “Seriously, are you okay? You’re not like you today.” 
There’s a softness in his voice you can’t believe. “Can I eat lunch with you?” 
You wish that you said it to avoid the question. James wrinkles his nose, your heart drops into the pit of your stomach, but then he says, “I just invited you first.” 
“I… have to get my stuff from the fridge.”
“Me too.”
You walk slowly, worried it’s a joke, another stupid joke, but James comes up behind you and his hand graces your shoulder with the barest pressure. You can smell something sweet and warm on him, like jojoba oil. Maybe argan. “Sure you’re okay? You look peaky. Is it the heat?” he murmurs.
“It’s supposed to rain tonight.” 
“You can’t answer anything, can you?” James laughs with a vocal fry that goes straight to your chest. “I could ask you how many fingers you’d have and you’d tell me you have two hands.” 
James walks with you to the kitchen, where you gather your food and warm it in the microwave. He leads you to the break room, and makes sure to choose a table with enough space for you, even while people he’s friendly with beckon him forward. They look at you with unashamed curiosity, but James pretends not to notice so you do too. 
You’re expecting a joke. Aw, look, we’re finally on a date. Or Wow, you know how to use a spoon, I had no idea you were so dexterous. 
“Did you see they’re making a new movie about those aliens? The ones who can hear you everywhere you go?” 
You squeeze your spoon. “Uh, no, I didn’t see it.” 
“It looks awesome. I’ll show you the trailer on my computer after lunch, it looks just as good as the first two. That actress, the one with the really nice eyes is in it.” 
You have no idea who he means. James talks to you like a friend. He offers you some of his papris and he passes you a napkin from his pocket when you get food on your hands. James Potter might actually be a really nice guy. All it took was for you to garner his pity for him to show it. How pathetic you must seem to need it. 
“How do you feel now?” he asks as you clip the lid back onto your Tupperware. “You look better. Do you feel better?” 
“I’m fine, James.” 
“You frown so much I can’t tell.” He butts his knee against yours. “Alright, batten the hatches, I’m gonna carry you back to your desk.” 
“Why?” you ask in a rush. 
“Can’t fall if you don’t walk.” 
“James, don’t try it. I’m serious.” 
“You don’t sound serious. You sound like you want me to carry you.” 
“I’ll report you to Human Resources.” 
“For what? Being helpful?” 
“Harassment.” 
“Fine, but I’m not gonna catch you this time.” 
533 notes · View notes
samkerrworshipper · 3 days
Text
las 15.
mapi leon x reader, alexia putellas x reader (platonic)
warnings: the spanish federation ick
erm look at me posting something 😮 anyways enjoy haha i kinda hate it but need to feed yall somehow
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“You need to be aware of the consequences of what could happen if you sign this document.”
You stared down at the mahogany surface of your lawyers desk, it was dark, sanded, smooth and shiny. Contemporary, but it also looked old, like a heirloom. It distracted your from the non stop drawl.
“I don’t care, I’m signing it.”
Your eyes travelled along the surface, lookinbg at the different waves of wood and the way that the dark colours marbled together.
“The RFEF could come for you, they could try and take your license. You might not compete at the world cup, the press will come for you, Vilda will come for you, Barca could reduce your playing time, it could be the end of your career. There are other negatives.”
You’ve thought about all of them of course, how could you not?
“I’ve already said it, I don’t care. Let them come for me, let them do whatever they want. I am done with it all. Fourteen other players have signed it, no? I will be the fifteenth and that is final.”
You weren’t a big fan of your lawyer, he was old and money oriented. He also didn’t have your best interest in mind, his sole focus was earning you as much money as possible, which had been fine up until today.
“So what? You plan to be the best in the world and never play international football again? This will ruin your career, it will put an end to the Ballon D’or campaign, it will change things for you, you can’t just do this because your girlfriend does it as well, this will be detrimental for you.”
The wood grooved at the edges, flattening out and curving so the edges weren’t too sharp.
“I refuse to stand by and submit myself to abuse. That’s what happens every time I go to that place, every time I go to camp I submit myself to abuse, torture, horrific conditions. The fact that you would even dare imply that I would do this for anybody but myself is preposterous. I am better than the condition I am being subkmitted to, I deserve better than to be objectified and treated as if I am dirt on that man’s shoe and I refuse to be treated as such. I have standards for myself and the people around me and I refuse to live by these for much longer. I’ll draft up the letter, I’ll send it to you for editing purposes and once your done you will send it to the RFEF, consequences be damned. You should be glad that I lasted two more windows then everyone else, honestly I’m ashamed that I didn’t do this earlier, but I’m ready to take a stand with everybody else now. I don’t want to play in a World Cup if it means this is how I will live my life.”
You looked up at your lawyer, hoping the fire burning in your soul was reflective in your eyes.
“This is a bad decision, you are thinking with your heart and not your head, this is unlike you.”
You pulled your eyes from the mahogany, standing up from your seat slowly.
“No, I’m thinking with my own interests, not yours, not my managers, not my bank accounts. I’m thinking with my mental health, my emotional health and my physical health. For the first time in my life I am taking time to focus on myself, so tyeah maybe it’s unlike me, but I’d like to think this might be the a better version of me, I’ll email you my letter, all you havr to do is forward it, if it’s such a struggle don’t even bother reading it, I don’t care what you have to say, I’m legally obligated to make you aware of any contractual issues so here I am. Give a fuck, don’t give a fuck, it doesn’t change anything for me, I’ve made my decision and nothing or nobody will make me change my mind.”
You didn’t wait around to hear what he planned to say in rebuttal, exiting the stuffy office as quickly as your legs would allow.
You made it to your car before you felt the tears flooding down your face. Even now, even after you’d tried to speak out you still felt like you were being silenced, like nothing had changed. That’s why you were doing what you were doing, why you knew this was what you needed to do. It didn’t make it any easier though, knowing that no matter what choices you made, even if they were for the good of you there were still going to be people around you who condemned them.
You were supposed to be at training, but you’d taken the day of to finalise all this bullshit. It was frustrating, knowing that the choices you were making for the good of yourself could end up being harmful to your career in a multitude of ways, it was all so fucking hard.
Everybody was at training, and yet here you were balling your eyes out in the carpark of your stupid fucking lawyers office.
If you hadn’t hit rock bottom at the last camp, the this was it, this was your final straw.
It was all too much, you’d been holding out for too long, but the mixture of the other 14 girls refusing to come back and Alexia’s injury had been enough of a motivation for Vilda to try and ruin your life. It had started with extra training after your sessions, then sessions in the mornings, then separating you from the rest of the team, limiting your diet, gym sessions, changing your schedules to everybody elses, punishing you for nothing, treating you like you were a slave to the Spanish Women’s team.
You were the best midfielder they had, excluding Alexia, and she was hurt, you were the scapegoat for the team, you were responsible for the wins and the reason for the losses.
You knew that with your leave, somebody else would end up taking your role, probably Aitana who was far to young to deal with that kind of pain, and you felt bad, you felt more guilty than you thought possible, but you couldnt do it for any longer, you couldn’t act like it wasn’t killing you on the inside for every second that you spent away with those people.
You hated it, you hated feeling like nothing, you hated feeling worthless, you hated living your life like it was pointless, you couldn’t do it for any longer, not when you were giving up every single part of yourself to keep yourself together.
You couldn’t stay how you were, crying in the drivers seat of your car milling over the memories of your last camp, you needed to leave, needed to go somewhere, needed to talk somebody.
Before you really knew what you were doing you’d started driving, letting the tears drip onto your lap and the steering wheel as you frantically drove your way through the city.
You couldn’t be alone, but you also couldn’t handle all the eyes of your teammates, so you drove to the one other place that you could think of where you hoped somebody would be.
You tried your hardest to wipe the tears from your face, but they kept falling, the sleeve of your shirt getting damper by the second as you tried to wipe up the evidence of your breakdown. It was useless, and eventually you gave up, stepping out of your car and ducking your head as you walked towards the lift and navigated your way through the apartment building.
The person you were looking for didn’t answer the door, instead you were put face to face with Olga.
“Hola chica, Ale didn’t tell me she was expecting visitors.”
You bit down on your lip, tapping your foot against the floor as you peeked around Olga, searching for the person you were seeking out.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t tell her, I can go home, I know she’s been busy with her rehab, I don’t even know how I ended up here.”
Olga tugged at your arm before you could spit anything else out, tugging you through the door and closing it from behind you.
“Nonsense chica, you’re very welcome here, Alexia is sitting out on the balcony doing her exercises, she’ll be more than happy to have your company, just head on through, your always welcome here.”
You nodded at Olga, smiling at her as much as you could with your lip still stuck between your teeth.
“Thank you, thank you so much, I really appreciate.”
You tried to ignore the tears that were still dripping down your face, it didn’t feel like you were crying, even though you were, it more felt like you were shedding a layer of yourself, the layer that was holding all of the trauma that you’d been holding in, like it was your way of getting rid of it all.
Alexia’s apartment was meticulously clean as ever, but you spotted her out in the sun easily.
She was standing outside, in a pose similar to ones you did in your yoga sessions.
She looked at peace, like she was calm, like she was serene, the complete polar opposite to how you felt and you really didn’t want to burden her with your problems, but you were here now anyways.
You tiptoed over to the glass sliding door, pushing it open, causing Alexia’s head to peak up at you. She looks at you with curiosity, but doesn;t move, instead her head nods you towards one of the outdoor lounges beside her, which you beeline for.
She stays in her position as she addresses you.
“The appointment with your lawyer didn’t go well then?”
You did a double take as you stared at Alexia, shocked at the information she’d somehow managed to obtain.
“You don’t take me for a idiota do you? Mapi told me you had a appointment you were keeping quiet about this morning, it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out who it must have been with, considering recent events. Although your girlfriend wasn’t smart enough to work it out herself.”
Alexia stayed in her stretch, looking at you as if to prompt you to tell her more.
“Yes, I had a appointment with my lawyer, Alexia.”
Alexia smirked to herself, she was one of the most obersvanet people you knew, nothing got by her, you weren’t all that surprised to find out that this hadn’t.
“You’ll be joining the group then?”
You hadn’t really comes to terms with it, let alone saying it out loud.
“That’s the plan, should be official by tomorrow.”
Tears were still dripping down your face, you couldn’t find yourself caring though.
“Good for you. You deserve better, we all deserve better, may we all hopefully make a change.”
Alexia wasn’t officially a part of the movement, but she was everyway besides a signature as equally involved as everybody else.
“It just feels like i’m letting the team down, that I’m letting everyone down.”
Alexia nodded at you, finally coming out of her stretch and walking over to sit down next to you.
“You’re doing what’s good for you chica, your doing something that is going to make you happier, that is going to make your life better. Nobody else matters beyond that, trust me.”
Alexia looked at you, like she was genuinely struggling to help you out in the moment. She had been your mentor at Barca for forever, you seeked out her advice more than anybody elses, especially in this moment.
“I don’t know how to do it anymore, it’s like he was trying to ruin my fucking life, like his whole purpose for everyday was to make my life a living hell, and I just couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t walk around camp acting like it was fine, I couldn’t smile at cameras and talk to the press and tell them about how great I was feeling when it was all lies, all I wanted to do was leave, or sleep, or die, all because of his and his staff. They were hardly feeding me, hardly letting me sleep, hardly giving me a break and expecting me to perform at the same level as everybody else, if not better. I just couldn’t do it anymore Ale, it was too much.”
Alexia’s arm placed itself on your knee, squeezing your covered skin.
“You shouldn’t have to, you needed to leave and you did, you made the right decision chica, you made a impossible decision that will make your life 100 times easier, it doesn’t make you weak, it makes you so incredibly brave for being able to identify that you were being treated wrongly and that you needed to remove yourself from that space.”
The tears kept falling, your pants were slowly becoming soaked with the raw emotion.
“Mapi did it because of the abuse, because she had a legitimate reason, I’m leaving because they worked me a little bit harder than everybody else, it feels like I’m overreacting.”
You could feel Alexia rolling her eyes from beside you.
“Really? Has Mapi told you that?”
Mapi had told you that you deserved the world, you deserved everything you wanted, you deserved to be treated like a queen, not how the RFEF was treating you. She’d told you the decision was yours, that she would support you no matter what you did, but she’d also told you that after every camp you came back with a little bit less of yourself, that Vilda was stripping parts of you away to use at his mercy.
“It’s not the same thing, Patri, Pina, Mapi, they all have good reasons, they’ve all been hurt, Vilda is just trying to make me better, trying to make me worthy.”
Alexia’s hand squeezed tighter.
“You’re lying to yourself and you know it. As long as he is in charge, you aren’t going to get treated how you deserve, none of us are. We’ve all paid our dues, yet they don’t give a shit, they break us all down until we’ve got nothing left to give. They broke me down until I did my acl, if you hadn’t of left they would have done the same to you. It’s nonstop, even if it isn’t the same kind of abuse as Mapi, it’s still abuse, they still rip out every part of you in the process. Each time you come back you have less of yourself to offer, but they keep taking, and taking, they make us feel nothing. It’s a waste, it’s a waste of the wonderful life we’ve all been gifted. We deserve to be happy, we deserve to be free of the pain.”
You nodded your head, you’d been avoiding telling Mapi about all of this. You were conscious that she was still working through a lot of her own trauma, and you didn’t want to reopen scars that were only just beginning to heal.
“I don’t know what to do Ale, I sign the papers, I write the letters and I’m taking a stand, I’m trying to make a change. I stay, I wreck it all, but I keep my career. It feels like I’m at a crossroads with myself, and I can’t talk about it weith Maps because god forbid shes already been through enough with her own struggle through it all, she doesn’t need me on top of that.”
Alexia stood back up, getting back onto her mat and pushing herself into another stretch, all whilst she maintained eye contact with you.
“Mapi’s talked to you about her struggles, si? She’s burdening you with her own problems, yet it doesn’t feel that way, because you love her and you’d do anything to make her pain less. I guarantee she’d feel the exact same way. You’ve been through a lot, none of us will ever be able to completely comprehend what you’ve been through, but if you started talking to your loved ones about it we’d be able to support you better. Or a therapist, I know Barca has been giving you sessions, but I mean a real psychologist, not just a person who tells you that you need a day off. You need somebody to help you, to actually make you feel like you deserve better than how they treated you, because I know that you know that but I don’t think you really believe it.”
The tears were slowly coming to a standstill, slipping less frequently down your face as Alexia talked to you.
“I don’t want to make her hurt any more than she already has.”
Alexia just looked at you, with that double eyebrow raise and little crinkle in her forehead.
“If you think that Maria wouldn’t do anything for you, even if it meant sucking every single inch of pain from your body and putting it into hers, she would do it and she would do it with a smile on her face. Her whole world, her whole solar system revolves around you and she’d want you to talk to her about this. She knows better than anybody else what you’re experiencing, she’s literally been where you are, so why not talk to her about it?”
It was true, for as long as Mapi and you had been together she’d tried to fix every single thing, she would do anything to make you feel better, this didn’t feel the same though.
“She deserves to live in a world where Vilda, where the RFEF, don’t affect her anymore. She signed the petition, she’s cleaned her hands of it all, and I should have done it with her, but I didn’t. I chose to keep playing for the benefit of my career, because I was greedy and decided that a Ballon D’or and any kind of accolade I was a shot at was more important then taking a stand and I hate it. I hate that now that I’ve won things that suddenly it’s all hit me that I don’t like what’s been happening, and I don’t want to support it. Mapi doesn’t deserve to go through it a second time, all because I was greedy.”
Alexia switched sides on her stretch, the sun was radiating off of her olive skin and her blonde hair, she looked ethereal.
“Have you told her anything about it?”
Alexia was frowning, like she was shocked by your actions.
“She knows that I was struggling at camp, she told me I was welcome to talk to her. After the last one she knew something had changed, she told me she was worried and I shook her off, because I thought she was being overprotective, but she was right, she had reason to be worried, I wasn’t okay. I’m not okay, i don’t know how to process it all.”
Alexia nodded.
“Go home, tell her what’s happening, see what she says, I think it’ll be a lot better than whatever you’ve thought up. Mapi has been my bestfriend for years, she’s dated my sister, she’s dated my friends and I can confidently tell you that she loves you more than any of them, you’re her do or die, all she’ll want to do is support you, please just go and talk to her.”
Alexia looked at you with such conviction and honesty that you couldn’t find it in you to try and fight her on the topic.
“Thank you Ale, I needed this, I needed to talk to somebody, needed to feel less crazy.”
Alexia did one last stretch before standing up, pulling you into a tight hug before you could pull away.
“You’re not crazy chica, you’re going through a very real, very hard time, and you deserve to have the people around you show you how much they love you.”
Alexia let go of you, shoving you back towards the door.
“Go talk to your girl, and sign those papers, and be happy, enjoy life, enjoy peace. You deserve it, chica.”
You nodded into Alexia’s shoulder, letting go of her and slipping back into her apartment, leaving her to get back to her stretching.
You shivered when you spotted Mapi’s car already parked in her spot. You knew you’d be cutting it close with getting home earlier then her, but you’d held a silent hope that you would be the first home. You hesitated to exit your car, scared of what the inside of your apartment held. You weren’t scared so much, more a little bit tentative of the conversation that you were about to have, knowing that it could majorly impact your relationship. In your heart, you knew that Mapi would love you no matter what, but it didn’t calm the nerves inside of you as you pulled your keys from the ignition, pulled out the papers that your lawyer had given you and exited your car.
The whole walk from your car, to the elevator and then down the hallway to your apartment had your heart thrumming inside of your chest. Your hands were quite literally shaking as you pushed your key into the door.
You toed your shoes off at the door, slotting them down beside the door before slowly walking your way through the entrance. It wasn’t hard to find Mapi, she was right in front of you, sitting down at the island bench, patting Bagheera and eating a post training salad. You knew that there was one meant for you still sitting on the shelf of your fridge, from when the two of you had meal planned yesterday. She looked so undisturbed, with the afternoon light coming in through the gaps in the blinds and the general silence that you were about to break.
You announce yourself by slinging your bag down against the wall, a loud enough noise that seems to wake Mapi from her happy daze.
She smiles as soon as her eyes set on you and it only makes the weight in your gut feel ten times heavier and the pain in your heart ten times worse.
You wanted to turn around and walk right back out the door you’d just walked through, but you couldn’t, not with the way that Mapi looked at you, like her whole day had been made by your appearance.
“Hola bebita, how was your meeting?”
Mapi’s smiling ear to ear, quite literally, you swear you can see every single one of her teeth. It had hurt you to lie to Mapi about where you were going today, telling her that you’d had a crucial appointment with your manager about some media things, it wasn’t a direct lie. You had met with your manager, instead of it being positive though, it had been quite the opposite.
You didn’t have any words to reiterate to Mapi, so instead you just picked up the papers that were tucked away in your hands and placed them down on the island infront of her.
Mapi looked at you with confusion for a few seconds.
“Just read them, you’ll understand it more once you have.”
Mapi didn’t hesitate, picking up the first piece of paper and scanning over it, before moving onto the second, then the third and so on, till she’d made it through the entire stack.
You stood anxiously on your toes the whole time, balancing from one foot to the other as you contemplated how Mapi was going to reply to this sudden change.
When she did finish, she looked up at you, a lot of questions hidden behind her curious eyes.
“I’m resigning, or requesting they don’t call me up. I don’t want to play for a federation that doesn’t care about me. I’m sorry I didn’t do it earlier, but I wasn’t ready and I’m sorry I’m bother you with it now but I’m also sorry I didn’t tell you about it earlier, I met with my lawyer for the first time today to sign the documents and write my statement. If it all goes to plan then they should be out in the next week. I don’t want to do it anymore, I can’t do it anymore, I’m sorry.”
Mapi blinked a few times, like you’d just blindsided her completely, and you figured you had.
“I didn’t even really know it was happening until after last camp, and I just realised that I was so exhausted and so tired and so sick of it all that I couldn’t do it again. I should have done it earlier, I should have been a part of it all from the start but I was scared and I still am scared Maps. This is supposed to be my job, I’m supposed to be grateful for the opportunities I’m given and yet I feel like I’m a fraud and I’m lying when I say that because I’m not grateful and I’m not happy and I can’t do it anymore, I just can’t. I’ve been praying every night that I get injured, so that I get a break like Ale, and I don’t want to feel like that anymore.”
Mapi just stood up and pulled you into her arms, silencing the rambling and making you realise that you were now crying again.
She slowly led you towards the couch, bringing you into her arms as you tried to take control of yourself.
It felt like every piece of anguish, every piece of fear, every piece of internal hatred was slowly being pulled from your body and it felt so good, like you were somehow being healed.
Mapi wiated until you were coherent enough, until you felt more resurfaced, and less like the bloodn was rushing through your ears and every though of self-doubt was spirally through the different ridges of your brain.
“Princesa, you’ve made this decision for you, si? Not because of me, not because of anybody else, because you believe this is best for you?”
You nodded into her chest, enjoying the feeling of your own skin pressed directly to hers.
“I’m sick of them making me feel this way Maps, I don’t like it, I don’t think it’s right.”
Mapi’s body was surrounding you, her scent, her feel, her everything, and it was all you’d needed today, everything that Alexia had assured you would make you feel better.
Mapi’s salad was forgotten on the counter.
Bagheera was somewhere else.
It was just the two of you, just the two of you to face everything.
“We’re put into boxes, as women, men try to make us be everything and yet nothing. It’s not right, we’re expected to be as good as the men, but we have to behave eloquently, say our pleases and thank yous and never be ungrateful for the piss poor conditions we put up with. We’re supposed to be passionate, but we’re not allowed to over react in any way. We can only underperform, not overperform. There are no expectations for us, because we’re women and we’re supposed to be worse than the men, but they’re are also so many expectations for us to meet. It’s okay for you to be done with that, there is nothing wrong with you saying no to constantly being abused. You’re not a fraud bebita and I’m here for you no matter what. You’re my girlfriend first, a person second and a soccer player last. It doesn’t matter, none of it matters, you matter, you’re feelings and how you feel is what matters.”
Mapi’s hand pulled your head from her neck, her lips connecting with your forehead with ease.
“I’m not doing it anymore Maps. I want to be strong, I want to say no. I want to be a part of the right side of history. I don’t want to sit around pretending everything’s fine when it’s not fine. It’s nowhere near fine and until there is a change it won’t be.”
Mapi nodded, pressing a series of kisses to your forehead.
“Then we’ll work it out, you’ll keep me in the loop and we’ll figure it out together, no more hiding these big feelings from me. We’ll go and see our therapists and take soe time off and do whatever you need to feel safe and happy, because what matters is you, nobody else, si?”
You nodded your head once again, enjoying the same smile that her face was covered in. her lips migrated down to your cheeks, pressing kisses to the rosiest parts, pushing the tears away.
“I’ve got you bebita, we’ve got each other, we’re going to be fine, we all are.”
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zephyrchama · 3 days
Text
(Mentions/descriptions of minor injuries, present and past.)
“There, all good.”
“Thanks, Satan.”
Your leg looked much better now that it had been disinfected and bandaged. Not that it was in bad shape to begin with.
Anyone would have thought a dire medical emergency occurred by the way everybody had leaped into action when you fell. Six of the brothers somehow managed to carry you together - one for each limb and another two on the sides to support your back - because they couldn’t pick just one person to help you back to the classroom.
It was incredibly embarrassing. You closed your eyes to avoid making eye contact with any of the other students, but you still heard the hallway whispers and Thirteen’s loud laughter.
Once back inside, Lucifer immediately evacuated his seat behind the podium at the front of the room. You were placed down like a precious glass ornament. Each brother played a different role in patching you up, but you would have been fine on your own.
“This cut kind of reminds me of one I got as a kid.” You twisted your leg around a few times to look it over. “It’s in the same spot.”
Mammon leaned against the back of the chair and grabbed your shoulders. “Are you tellin’ me you cut your leg before?”
“…yes?”
“First time I’ve heard that.” Beelzebub frowned.
Satan nodded thoughtfully, hand on chin, “you’ve never told us this before.”
“Yeah, ‘cuz I just remembered it.” It happened so long ago that you completely forgot.
Asmodeus buried his face in his hands. “How could you be so irresponsible?”
“I was a kid! Kids get scrapes all the time. I probably got it the same way, too.”
“You fell? Well… At least it didn’t scar.”
“Asmo, how d’ya know that?” Mammon asked.
“Because I know every inch of their skin very intimately.” Asmodeus smirked.
Mammon gripped your shoulders tighter. “Ok! Well! So do I!” he growled.
Leviathan came to sit on the floor next to you, looking worried. He fiddled with your pants leg to make sure the hem wouldn’t roll down over your bandage. “So there were other times you got hurt as a kid?”
“I mean, yeah? Bruised my arm pretty badly one time, right here.” You pointed to the spot.
“How come you never told us?” Belphegor asked. He was craning his head up to look at you while laying on the table, which Lucifer hadn’t noticed until that moment. The eldest gave him a push.
Belphegor muttered some choice words and slunk off to get a chair of his own, which he relocated closer to you. It screeched loudly as he dragged it along the floor. Beelzebub just stared and the others flinched, but Satan and Lucifer looked ready for violence until the youngest finally plopped down.
“We’re supposed to know everything about you,” he stated.
“Since when?”
“Since forever,” Leviathan was quick to clarify. “You have to tell us everything, and don’t spare any details.” His sentence ended there, but you swear you heard “the lore…” whispered almost imperceptibly.
“You better not be holdin’ back on us.” Mammon shifted a bit. He appeared to be getting tired of standing, but didn’t want to give up his prime real estate by your side.
“So I have to tell you everything? Like… when a butterfly poked me in the eye?”
A couple of them winced.
“Did it hurt?” Asmodeus asked.
“Did you tear it apart?” Belphegor asked.
“No, I think I was more shocked than anything? Maybe a little? And no!” You glanced down. “Levi, stop taking notes about me.”
Leviathan tutted and swiped out of the notes app on his D.D.D..
These demons and their theatrics. You couldn’t help but smile. “You’re all just overreacting, as usual.”
Satan shook his head. “No, I think you’re under-reacting. There are lots of dangers to humans in the Devildom. You could have gotten a nasty infection.”
Asmodeus gasped, “you could have lost your leg!”
”Or attracted predators,” Beelzebub added.
“On school grounds? Please. At worst I’d only attract Mephisto sniffing around for a scoop for his newspaper.”
Lucifer crossed his arms. You had faith he was going to say something sensible. “At least this isn’t as bad as that time you bruised your rear in the bath.”
There were seven scandalized gasps, including your own. “I told you that in confidence!”
Mammon was yelling in your ear, “how come I wasn’t the first to know about this? Hah?”
Asmodeus lept forward, “show me where!”
“Is it still there?” Satan inquired.
“Do you not trust us anymore?” Beelzebub looked deflated.
“That’s not it, Beel, I just- ack, Levi!” You shouted and shook your bandaged leg as the third-born clung to it desperately.
“It wasn’t my bathtub, right?” he practically sobbed. “Aahhh, I knew I needed to fill it with more pillows. Ahhhh.”
“Why would they be anywhere your tub?” Belphegor took hold of Levi’s collar and wretched him back. By the way he fell, it wouldn’t be odd for Leviathan to get a butt bruise, too.
“If it happened in your room, you would have been there,” you assured, knowing this would start another round of arguing.
The bell signaling next period mercifully rang. You’d never been happier for class to start again. All that was left was to get to your usual seat, which you stood up to do.
“Woah, whaddya think you’re doing?” Mammon put an arm in front of you.
“Going to my seat…?”
“You’re in it, sit back down.” Lucifer said.
You hesitated, giving them a puzzled look. For a moment you considered running past them. A simple cut wouldn’t hold you back, but there were no scenarios where you could outrun them without magic. You narrowed your eyes and sat down as the seven surrounded you again. You got a bad feeling.
“Just make it quick.”
Other students were already starting to filter into the room. You didn’t particularly want to be seen being relocated by these overly doting brothers. You grabbed the edge of the seat as four of them lifted it up, with the others griping about there being insufficient space for them to grab hold anywhere.
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triplecreature · 3 days
Text
actually I'm kind of curious about this because it was a huge debate among my peers in my community
Clarifications under the cut:
The poster is in a public space where it is typical for everyday people to post things. It is not someone's private property or possession. Think piece of paper taped to a telephone pole, not sign in a storefront or in someone's yard.
The poster is not protected by law; you are very unlikely to face legal consequences for vandalizing it. Caveat: some peers have argued that it risks being socially consequential because an organization or demographic that you are a part of may be judged as intolerant/oppressive/disruptive/otherwise unpleasant if people witness your actions, and thus advocated against vandalism for fear of damaging your public image.
The poster is not an expensive or personal piece of artwork; it is a mass produced print on letter paper.
You are vehemently opposed to the message displayed on the poster, but it is an opinion that people are free to have in your country.
The 4th option refers to things like intentionally putting your own poster over top of the bad poster or otherwise making the bad poster harder to view; some people argued that targeting the poster for removal is out of line, but posting your own messages is an innocent action that you are well within your right to do (in this context, posters regularly eclipse each other as new ones are posted over top of outdated ones due to limited space)
The poster is part of a campaign; it's not unique. There are many postings of it across the community.
This is all assuming that the offending poster is not old and would typically not be considered fair game for pruning for quite some time, and that it is being specifically targeted for removal because of its message (rather than petty vandalism or because it's obstructive or damaged). E.g., if a poster is advertising an event happening on April 20th, it's typical to prune it after that date but not before.
Of course the situation that prompted the real life debate did involve a specific offending message, but I'm not going to specify what it was for now because I think it'll skew the results as people will just end up voting based on whether they like or dislike that message, which isn't the point of this. For this poll we are assuming that it IS a message that you are very opposed to; you can substitute in your own opinion that you have strong feelings about.
Please reblog for sample size!
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norrisleclercf1 · 16 hours
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hi I hope you are doing good!! what do you think about writing a mafia osc?? I feel like there are not enough fics abt him hehe. Really angsty something abt him finding out his wife/gf was mistreated and abused at her workplace (as a nurse I’d love if she was a nurse) and he brings hells to her workplace
A/N: I'm doing this as a patient having caused harm, to the reader
You don't even know how it happened, one minute you're checking on a patient the next here you are lying in the ER, dazed and bleeding.
People rush around you, yelling muffled as the ringing in your ears becomes unbearable, that you're so close to sobbing. A familiar face hovers over you, saying something but you shake your head unable to understand. Horror and worry are itched into their face as they look up and say something.
Closing your eyes, you squeeze them trying to remember what happened, but nothing but black fills your head, you can't even remember how you got to work, all you know is you're hurt, bleeding, and scared.
Oscar
Your husband's somber face appears, and the tears held together by nothing finally break as you sob, wanting to wipe them away but your hands tied down by IVs and bandages. Your friend leans over you again, and gently wipes your tears, the ringing starts to slow. "Sweetie," You whimper and your friend whispers an apology.
"We've called Oscar, he's on his way. You have a concussion, slight amnesia, a perforated eardrum, with some horrible cuts. Your left hand is broken, we're going to be moving you upstairs soon. I'm not leaving, I'm right here," She whispers low enough for you to hear and you nod.
Oscar
--------------------------
He was far to calm, far to calm for any husband to get a call that your wife has been put in the ER. And while one would panic, being told that your own wife has been harmed at her job, from a patient, Oscar just said okay, and hung up.
Oscar was lucky that he had drivers, because him driving would be a very bad idea. Oscar was that calm that sent his men to tense and be terrified. His men, sat so still he wasn't sure they were even breathing, he didn't care if they were, he was far more worried about only one person.
Pulling up to the hospital, Oscar didnt even let the car stop before he was out and walking with his men behind him. Shoving the ER's doors open, everyone in there freezes, seeing the calm and cold fury of Oscar Piastri. "Mr. Piastri," Your friend calls from your bay, and Oscar feels the hot rage boil under his skin, but he pushes it down.
"Love, baby," He clears his throat, voice cracking as he rushes past your friend as leans over you. "They had to set the bones in her hand, so she's asleep from the sedative," Your friend whispers and Oscar's fingers tighten on the rails of the bed.
"The animal that did this to her?" He whispers, and your friend sighs. "Just had restraints put on them, said that's all they can do. All she did was ask them to take their heart medication, patient has a history of being violent apparently." Oscar nods his head, placing a shaking kiss on the top of your head.
Resting your foreheads together, Oscar takes a slow deep breath trying to stop the shaking in his body. "So that's it hmm, what'd you bosses say?" Oscar knows you don't have the best management, from the countless nights of you coming home to complain. "Said she could've handled the situation differently," That has Oscar's eyes growing wide and looks up.
Shaking their head, Oscar stands to his full height and rolls his shoulders. "Where?" Your friend swallows hard and points down the hall towards the office door closed. "They in there?" Nodding yes, Oscar moves, stalking towards the office door. He doesn't knock, nor slam the door open, just sliently slips in and closes it with the tiniest of clicks.
"Excuse me you're not allowed-" Yelping as they're thrown into the wall Oscar growls as he grabs the pathetic manager by the neck, squeezing slowly. "A patient comes after my wife, and you say it's her fault. Maybe I should put a bullet between your eyes and your euology could be them saying, "it's sad, but they could've handled the situation better and they'd still be here," Oscar whispers, squeezing tighter as your boss thrashes.
"She's done here, if you can't fucking protect her at her own job then you don't deserve her," Oscar seethes and pulls them forward before slamming their head into the wall. "You know who I am, so you'll think twice before you ever, touch my wife again," Oscar snarls, letting them go as they sink to the floor.
Turning Oscar slips back out the same way he came in, heading straight towards your sleeping figure. "Did you?" But your friend stops herself, knowing who Oscar was, knowing what he could've possibly done. He takes off his suit jacket, lying it ontop of you the smell of his cologne has your body relaxing. Pulling up a chair, Oscar sits down and holds your non broken hand, and doesn't move all night.
tagging: @piastrification and @leclerced my little oscy girlies
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Text
Where Soul Meets Body - Ghost x Reader
Ao3 Link
Content Warnings - afab!reader, no pronouns used, reader has a call sign, canon typical violence, ghost's past :(, angst, smut, fingering, oral, thigh riding, PiV, unprotected sex, happy ending. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Summary - Simon Riley has been your best friend since the two of you were five. You've been in love with him since you were 15. It's too bad life has other plans
WC: 18k
Big thanks to @shotmrmiller for helping me with the last chapter and big thanks to @itsagrimm for listening to my rambling about this since January. I'm so happy to see it written and finished.
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Rainy days in the United Kingdom we're far from abnormal. Seeing the bright sun with no clouds obstruction was abnormal. Seeing someone without an umbrella, even a jacket, in the rain was more than abnormal to you. Who in the world would set out to school without a jacket or umbrella? You approach the strawberry blond boy and tentatively hold your umbrella over his head. "What are you doing without an umbrella?" You ask, head tilting ever so slightly at the boy looking up at you. Oh, he's from your class, what was his name again?
"I don't have one."
"Did your mum not buy you one?" There was a small silence but you smile, "Well it doesn't matter now, I'm here and we can share." You give him your name and get the smallest smile from him.
"I'm Simon Riley." Ah, that's right, Simon Riley.
"Well then Simon, let's get to school." The umbrella was hardly large enough for you to fit under but you held it over his head as the rain came down. It rained all day but that was okay because you and Simon sat together all day. "I'll walk home with you so you don't get wet." You say while playing another round of Sorry!.
"You don't need to." Simon mutters as he moves his piece, his brown eyes downcast. You frown, brows pinching together as you try to piece together the logic behind that statement.
"I don't need to but I want to." You respond with a toothy grin. "It's what friends do." You say with confidence as you draw a card.
"We're friends?" Simon asks, his eyes suddenly meeting yours.
"Of course. We're sharing an umbrella." You laugh and move your piece according to the card. "And when you get your own umbrella, we can be umbrella friends." He repeats the term umbrella friends as if testing the waters and then smiles. A smile suits him much better than a frown you decide. During lunch, you offer part of your sandwich when you realize how sad his packed lunch is. "Here, I'm full." A lie but he hardly had half of what your mum packed. He looked at the triangularly cut sandwich with apprehension. "Please eat it." He continues to stare at it before picking it up and taking a bite then looking at you. When he sees your smile, he keeps eating it. "You have very brown eyes." You suddenly comment, unable to keep it to yourself. "I like them."
Simon easily fit into the routine of your life, each day after school he would walk home with you on Fridays. Together the two of you would chatter about anything and everything, conversation flowing easily. Somedays were worse than others, like right now while you treated Simon's busted lip with a bag of cold peas pressing against his cheek. "I'll beat him up." You promise. He seems different these days, he had always been a bit timid before but any loud noise scared him. You don't ask what happened, you could see it in his eyes that he didn't want to talk about it. Those same eyes were always looking down all the time now too, you wish he wouldn't. You like to see his eyes.
"You can't beat up Tommy." He insists.
"He beat you up, I'm just returning the favor." You huff as you dab the blood away from his lip and hand him a bag of cold broccoli. The attic of your home had become a safe haven to him and the walls and ceiling were decorated in drawings that the two of you had created over the last two years. A plate of triangle sandwiches sat half eaten on the box-made-table. "I'll just punch him. Serve him right." You huff and cross your arms after throwing the wet rag in the corner. Books and half put away board games were scattered all around the little attic.
"Please don't." Simon begs, his brown eyes downcast again.
"Will it make you happy if I don't?" You ask, twisting your shirt and pulling at the loose thread. Simon nods and you sigh, pushing your hair from your face. "Fine then but you're staying the night." You declare.
"Don't you need to ask your mum and dad permission?" He asks.
"They'll say yes. They always do." It was true, there hadn't been a time your mum hadn't let Simon sleep over if you had asked. Simon tapped your arm and handed you a book from the pile.
"Out of your head, let's read." He says while giving a frail smile. When did his smiles get smaller? You take the book from his hand, you hope it'll make him happy. A knock on the attic door as your mum peaks her head up.
"Are you staying for dinner Simon?" You mum asks and you jump on the opportunity.
"Can Simon stay the night mum? Please." You draw out your please and put on your best puppy eyes. Your mum looks between you and Simon who still held the bag of broccoli against his mouth.
"Of course he can stay. Just be quiet after eight pm." Your mum disappears back down the ladder towards the kitchen while you turn to Simon with a victorious smile on your face.
"Told you so."
You knock rapidly on his home's front door, "Come on Riley! I'm not gonna stand out here all day waiting for you." You would, of course you would. Rain or shine, warm or hot. The door swung open and you scrunched up your nose when Tommy was standing in front of you. "You smell like a sewer rat." You remark, "Where's Simon?"
"Don't you ever shut up?" Tommy snapped, "Simon isn't your boyfriend."
"He doesn't need to be my boyfriend in order for me to ask where he is." You immediately respond. He snorts and rolls his eyes. Tommy, Simon's younger brother, had been teasing the two of you for years since the first time he saw you walk Simon home. "Simon!" You say, a smile immediately appearing on your face as he finally appears behind his brother. "Come on!" You push Tommy out of the way and grab Simon's hand. "I got my drivers license." You boast, "Dad's letting me drive his truck around whenever he doesn't need it."
It was a rare day in spring when it wasn't raining and you weren't gonna let it go to waste. The windows of the truck were rolled down and the wind blew through your hair. The city of Manchester slowly disappears, the loudness exchanged for the quiet of the countryside.
"Don't look so grumpy Simon." You say when you notice he had his head in his hand and a scowl on his face. "You're acting like I'm driving you to your death."
"With how you drive, I'm sure you are." He retorts, a small smile growing on his face as you bark out a laugh.
"Well we're almost there so your death won't be quiet so soon." You remark. You slow the truck down before pulling off into a dirt road and coming to a complete stop. You turn the truck off and tuck the keys into your pocket and grab the basket you brought from the back of the truck. You look at the fence blocking the way into the flower field before you toss the basket over the fence before you launching yourself over the fence. "Come on Simon, just jump it!"
"Isn't this illegal?"
"Only if you get caught." You laugh and wink before helping Simon over the fence. The field of flowers stretch far and bumblebees buzz around from flower to flower. You open the basket and lay out the thin blanket onto the ground. Lowering yourself onto the blanket and you motion for Simon to join you.
"What's all this then?" He asked with a brow raised as you began to pull out a few cans of coke, a couple of sandwiches and apples.
"Happy 15th birthday." You say with a grin, "I got your present back at my house but I figured you'd like it out here." Simon stares at you, brown eyes wide as he looks between you and all the food you somehow managed to pack into the basket. You shift a little his heavy gaze as anxiety crept up as your cheeks turned red. "Do you not like it?" You ask.
Simon looked at you before a lopsided grin grew on his face, "It's great. Thank you."
"What are you planning to do after school is over?" You ask after taking a sip from your coke. "I mean, we only have next year left. Are you going to attend University?"
"I'm gonna take a butcher's apprenticeship."
"What?"
"My grades aren't doing great and I figured why not." Simon shrugged, "Not like it's a bad idea." You punched his shoulder lightly and glared at him.
"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling Riley? You know I would have helped." The wind blows softly, the flowers and grass rustle, birds sing in the distance. "You're a smart man Simon, if this is what you want to do," You take a steadying breath, "then I'll support you."
Simon smiles at you, "You took it better then my mum did at least." He sighs and takes a bite from his apple.
"She just wants what's best for you." You say, softening your voice. If there was one thing you learned about Simon Riley after these five years, it's that he loves his mum more than anything. You lean against him, coke can still in hand as the silence blankets the space between you and him. After a few minutes of silently eating and drinking, he nudges you.
"Look." He whispers and points to a flower by his side. You lean over and a massive smile grows on your face as you spot a very tired bumblebee resting within a flower. You look at Simon and feel something within yourself turn on or maybe become louder as you see his soft gaze at the sleeping bee. Suddenly, you wanted him to look at you with that same soft expression.
"You know Daisy?" Simon asks one day while you were driving to the flower field. It had become a place to get away from school and home, away from all the stresses of life for at least a few hours. Daisy was a classmate in the same year, you had never been close with her but you had grown up with her the same as you had with Simon.
"Of course, Daisy Lockmon right?"
"Yeah." There's something in the way he says it that makes your heart clench. It's the softness of it, the fondness and the soft sigh, even the sort of dreamy look in his eyes you spot in the mirror as he gazes out into the countryside.
"Yeah?"
"I'm dating her. She asked me out a few days ago." Few days ago. Why did that sting so fucking much? You smile at him as you grip on the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white and your fingers go numb. It doesn't compare to the squeezing grip of whatever is holding your heart. No, you know who holds your heart and he doesn't even know it. It's my fault, I never told him. You try to reason with yourself but it doesn't stop the hurt.
"Congratulations then. Daisy is a sweet girl."
A few months later, you feel like you're going to throw up. You fight back any words threatening to come out of your mouth besides something good and kind because he doesn't deserve your anger or sadness. Simon doesn't know, you keep reminding yourself, you're just his best friend that he's confiding in. Just the person he's grown up with since ten years old, just the person who treated his busted lips, cuts and bruises. Just his best friend. Not the girl, not Daisy Lockmon who he thinks he loves. He probably does love her, you've never seen him look at someone the way he does Daisy.
You lay in the field, something that allows your stress to melt away, does nothing for you. Not as Simon lays next to you, not as you think about the times before all of this you could have said something. Simon says nothing, you say nothing and the two of you just watch the clouds float by. Simon sits up as he speaks, "I'm ready to leave, how about you?" Your heart clenches again, time in the field has been getting shorter and trips less frequent. You know it's not just because of his relationship and it's just how life is sometimes. He has his butcher's apprenticeship and you're studying for university classes but logic doesn't dictate emotion.
"In a moment, I'll catch up with you at the truck." You say, pasting on a smile. Simon shrugs and grunts as he gets up. You wait until you're sure he's already hopped the fence and heading towards the truck before you move over to his spot. Where the grass and flowers are flattened down into his shape, slowly you curl into the spot. For a moment, you imagined that you were the one he says he loves. For just a bittersweet moment, you pretend that you're his and he's yours.
"I'm joining the military." Your ceramic mug shatters on the floor. Just like that, everything comes crashing down. The world was still reeling from the twin towers attack in the United States, the sense of safety shattered in a terrorist attack.
"What?" That was the only word that could come from your mouth. You look at Simon with wide eyes, the cozy atmosphere of your flat turned cold. "You're joking. Right Simon?"
"I'm not."
"What about your apprenticeship Simon? You've been working as a butcher since you were 16. You're nearly done." The words come flying out of your mouth, "Simon-"
"I'm not asking you to understand my decision. I'm just telling you that I'm doing it and you can't stop me." You laugh bitterly and the sound is so foreign to both your ears and Simons.
"As if I could stop you Simon." You mutter, moving to grab a broom and dustpan to clean up the shattered mug on the floor. "But why? You've never once shown interest in joining the military." The answer is clear, its reason why many people were joining the military and you already know his answer before he opens his mouth.
"The attack in the US." Of course, he doesn't elaborate. "I'm being sent to bootcamp in two weeks."
"Two weeks? That's hardly any time at all." You sigh and sink down into your couch, putting your face in your hands as you try to process everything. "What about Daisy?"
"Broke up with her." He says so plainly and with a shrug of his shoulders. You have to bite your tongue to keep from saying something back handed. You're not petty, you're not petty, you're not petty, is the thought running through your head but you can't deny how good it feels to know he isn't dating her anymore. Not like you have much of a chance now since he's going off to bootcamp. "She said she didn't want to date a guy in the military. It's a deal breaker apparently." It's not for me you think quickly.
The day comes too quickly, for once you wished life would slow down and let you soak up Simon's presence in your life. It's not like he's dying, he's just going off to bootcamp and then he'll be back is what you think to keep yourself from falling apart. Nearly nine years of friendship, spending hardly any time or going a long distance away from one another, now Simon will be gone for 14 weeks. Then he'll be stationed somewhere for two to six years. You wrap your arms around him, squeezing him hard and burying your face into his jacket. "You be safe Simon Riley or I'll raise you from the dead."
He chuckles and pats your head, "Its bootcamp not an active war zone." You just shake your head and he wraps his arms around you. "But I'll be safe. I'll write to you every chance I get, I promise."
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"Good."
"Simon?"
The last three years had passed quickly with the letters from Simon being the only rest stop between university studies and work. Grabbing your coat from the back, you sigh as you finally shut off the lights to the cafe you work at part time. With a small click, your work day was finally, finally over. You twist the lock on the cafe front door, struggling momentarily from your thick gloves. You turn to start walking towards your rather cheap flat and scream when you see a massive figure barely a foot away. The familiar voice hissing your name made the panic subside as quickly as it appeared.
"Glad to know you still have those pipes of yours." You look at Simon, he is barely illuminated by the street lights but you can still tell he's different now. He's no longer the slightly slender boy you knew three years ago. He wasn't slouching and made direct eye contact with you. You take him all in before you rush to him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his coat and drinking in his scent.
"Simon Riley," You whisper into his coat before pulling back to look up at him, "you've really grown. Come on, I'll let you crash at my place." He opens his mouth to argue but you're already pulling him along. You lead him to your flat, which isn't far away from your place of work thankfully. You kick off your shoes at the door and tell Simon to do the same. Placing a kettle on the stove to boil some water you then sit down and look at Simon. "So, what's brought you back here?" You ask.
Simon looks at you, drinking in your appearance. You look tired, worn down and ready to collapse. "I'm gonna fix my family." He finally answers after you cock your head to the side.
"You're... gonna fix your family?" You ask, leaning back as the words wash over you. Your heart hurt slightly for a reason you didn't want to understand, for a reason you didn't want to voice out loud or in your own head.
"Yes. And I'm not leaving until it is."
You purse your lips and get up to pour the boiling water into two cups. You put an earl gray tea bag with a splash of milk into the mug for Simon and a few cubes of sugar for your own cup of tea. You hand him the tea and sit back down as you continue to run through the implications of his choice. "Alright." You finally say. "You can crash at my place while you fix your family."
"You don't believe me." Simon states and you snap your head to look at him completely. "I know it sounds crazy but I'm stronger now. I can finally do what I've always wanted." He says between sips of his tea. "And I won't leave until it is fixed."
You sigh and set your cup down, "Fine." You get up and grab a piece of paper and a pen. You scribble down the addresses of Tommy's friends that he keeps couch surfing between before handing it to Simon. "This is what I know about Tommy. You'll probably get a confirmed address from your mom."
"And my dad?"
"Still an arsehole who comes and goes as he pleases." You grumble.
You walk out of your bedroom as quietly as possible. You peak over your couch and feel a weight lift off your chest. He was still here, right here in your flat. Your best friend, your rock and crush. Simon was finally back, not for the reason you might have fantasized about more than often you were willing to admit, but he was back. Love is such a funny thing, you think to yourself as you lay in bed. It had been three years since you had last seen him, hugging and barely holding back tears as he hopped on a bus to bootcamp. You hadn't cried that hard ever as you had cried on that day when he left. You turn onto your side and wipe away a few tears that leak from your eyes, at least he was here now.
You stand outside his family's home. You look down the street and recall the exact path that you could take to see your family. You had turned down Simon's offer to come inside, you didn't want to intrude on his reunion with his mother. You tap your foot as you lean against your truck, the same one you had driven to the fields outside of Manchester all those years ago. Simon steps outside of the house and hugs his mother one last time, his mouth moves but you don't hear what he has to say. His mother looks around him and looks at you. She's been crying you realize. You exchange a smile and a wave before she goes back inside of the house.
"Got the address?" You ask Simon as you both get into your truck.
"Got it." He confirms and gives you the address. You can't stop yourself from grimacing, of course it had to be that arsehole’s address. You hadn't left Simon in the dark of what was going on with his family while he was deployed and away. You didn't bother to spare details, okay, well maybe a few. Mostly about your own interactions with Tommy and his friends. But Simon didn't need to hear that, he had already sworn to come back and fix his family at least a dozen times since the third month. He didn't need to stress himself over you.
The car ride was quiet, the radio was off and the only sound was the wind blowing in through the open windows. You can feel the rage rolling off him but also the concern for his brother. The truck comes to stop outside of a dingy and unwelcoming flat building, you look at Simon and take him in. His brown eyes fill with determination and rage the longer he looks at the building. Finally, he opens the door, "I'm gonna get Tommy." He says before turning to go into the building after shutting the door. You let out a shaky sigh and let go of the steering wheel, looking at your shaking hands you try not to think too hard about what Tommy and his friends had done. What kind of people they were.
Tommy, your best friend's young brother had let his so-called friends push you around at your job until they were banned by your manager. Then they slashed your tires. Tommy hadn't changed, just become a carbon copy of dirt-bag father. Simon was made from something different, he was his mother's son, the undying love of his family and the ability to go with the flow of life. To never give up. You tense up as the people who lived in the flat walk past you, your breathing becoming more shallow as you watch them enter the flat. Oh god. Oh god. You panic and go to unbuckle yourself but struggle as your trembling hands only become worse.
You could hear the fighting coming from inside the house as you finally unbuckle yourself. There were five of them and only one of him. Oh god. Oh god. You push the truck door open and nearly tumble out, rushing to Simon's aid. You didn't expect to see him handling himself well against five other people while Tommy crouches low to avoid the fight altogether. One of the men goes to try and put Simon in a headlock, you do the only thing you can think of. You grab the man's jacket and pull him into your punch.
Simon places Tommy in the back seat, telling him he's going to bring him to the clinic and get him clean. You rub your throbbing knuckles, the pain from that one punch still echoing in your body. Simon gently takes your hand and inspects your knuckles, clicking his tongue. "You were never much of a fighter." He comments and looks up into your eyes. "But that was a good punch."
You're standing outside the clinic, the cold early spring wind making you pull your jacket closer to your body. Today was the day Tommy was going to be released, you weren't going to turn down Simon's request for you to be there. You had been spending more and more time with Simon and his mother. She is such a sweet lady, and loves her sons more than anything in the entire world. Simon looks at you and smiles, "I told you I would fix my family."
You roll your eyes, "I'll believe Tommy is clean when I see it." You grumble.
"I know he wasn't a good man back then,"
"He was a fucking mess Simon." You say, "He and his druggie friends cornered me once, demanded whatever money I had on me." You finally spill your guts, "I don't like him. You've been defending Tommy and his stupidity every day since I've known you." You look him right in the eyes, "He doesn't deserve your love or your mothers. As far as I'm concerned, he's been on my shit list since the first time I had to clean your bloody lip."
Simon looks at you for a long moment, your words hanging in the air until he pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry." He mutters and hides his face in the crook of your neck. You freeze and he hugs you tighter, "I'm so sorry. You should have told me about that. I would have never-"
"Don't be sorry." You whisper quickly, "Never be sorry. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. Simon you're too kind, too forgiving."
"That's not true."
"I think it is."
Someone coughs and Simon lets go of you, his face breaking into a smile as Tommy stands in front of the two of you. He looks different, better. Healthy and alive. "Can we go home now?" He asks. You watch as Simon walks up to Tommy and wraps him in his arms.
"Of course."
You watch from the driver's seat as their mum opens the door and jump into Tommy's arms as Tommy hugs her tight. You can't help the smile that grows on your face when Simon joins the hug. Their mum looks at you and motions you to join them. You shake your head but Simon walks over and pretty much drags you from the car and into the group hug.
Later that night, their mum pulls you to the side. "Thank you." She says and takes your hand into hers, "for being there for my Simon."
"It really was nothing." You assure her and she shakes her head.
"You love him very much. Don't try to deny it, you've stuck by his side all these years and I've seen the way you look at him." She winks, "I just hope the two of you get together before I'm dead."
You can't help the quiet laugh that comes from your throat, "Me too." You whisper and look over at Simon who sits next to Tommy as they watch a football match after eating dinner.
You can hardly believe that you're sitting here at Tommy's wedding next to their mum as you comfort her. Simon stands as Tommy's best man as they trade vows. Beth looks beautiful as she always has. Long black hair and charming blue eyes, she was beyond kind as well. Perfect for Tommy who hadn't lost some of his snark but Beth softened him. You look at Simon and smile when you notice he's holding back tears as they exchange vows.
The wedding's reception wasn't filled to the brim with people but it was lively, friends and distant family members mingled as you sit at a table with a glass of champagne. Simon lets out a sigh as he sits next to you at the edge of the party. "Are you having fun?" You tease and Simon rolls his eyes. Joseph, Simon's nephew who you are sure will never know a day of fear or hurt like his uncle and father, is exchanged between party members and snuck small bites of cake.
"I'd let to get away from all of this for a moment." He admits as he runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. You remember when he was the sad strawberry blond boy that rainy school day. The way he avoided eye contact and others. You smile and take his hand.
"Then lets go."
You can faintly hear the music from the reception but other wise, this bench away from the party was the perfect place. The night sky is some what visible, with only the brightest stars being visible from all the light pollution of the city. A small breeze blows through your hair and you close your eyes to just soak in the moment. You open your eyes and Simon looks at you, softness in his eyes.
"What?"
"You're stunning." He says and you furrow your brows, ignoring the heat in your cheeks and neck. He leans in closer and cups your cheek, "Can I kiss you?" The words don't come to you but you nod frantically, feeling worried that he might change his mind for some reason. His eyes look between your eyes and lips before he leans in. The kiss is slow and he holds you like you might break or in case you want to leave. His lips are slightly chapped but soft and you vaguely wonder if he put on flavored chapstick earlier. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer and he takes the hint. The kiss turns from soft to practically ravenous as he holds you close, your mouth parts automatically and he slips his tongue in.
When you finally pull back to breath deeper, he looks at you with amazement. "I love you Simon Riley." You whisper and rest your forehead against his, "I have since we were 15. Don't leave me again Simon. Not if you can help it."
"You're gonna hate me then." He whispers as he holds you close. "I'm returning to duty in a month."
"I could never hate you Simon. Not in a million years. Just… write to me and when you go on leave again,” You take a steadying breath, “We can talk about what we are." He nods and you press your lips to his again.
You stand in the rain. You fucking hate the rain. It soaks through your black clothes and makes it stick to your skin. It mats down your hair and hides the tears that run down your face. There is no one here, no one but you and the priest at this funeral. How could this happen, you wonder. Everything was perfect. You look at the name on the gravestone. Tommy, Beth and Joseph, there's another gravestone a few feet away that has his mothers and fathers name on it. Simon is the only one who is buried alone. A bitter and petty choice from their distant family. Everyone thinks Simon did it. There was no proof to prove otherwise and it fit the story. A soldier returns home and suffers a PTSD breakdown and kills his entire family.
It didn't make sense. Simon was getting better, he promised he was getting better and attending therapy appointments. He loved Joseph, he loved his family and he loved you. He would have never done this. Maybe he would have murdered his father but the anger there was long and bitter, if he wanted to kill his father, he would have done it years ago.
Earlier last month, you had passed by a stand with different brochures. Some of them were for churches, others for activities to do with the family. Normally, you would have passed by it, eager to leave the store as quickly as possible. But you stopped this time and glanced at a particular brochure, you picked it from its spot and glanced over it. “You belong here.” A soldier is yelling while another is taking cover, inside are different recruiting offices and general information. You pocket it.
It was an impulsive decision. But the papers were filed and your two week notice already given. You didn't want to think about the consequences of what you were about to do, you just felt lost. University didn't matter, your cafe job didn't matter and every street in this fucking city reminded you of him. You decided if you were going to join the military. You had been accepted, the letter sat in your bag now that all of your items in your flat had been packed up and stored in your old childhood bedroom. This was just the last thing to do before the bus picks you up tomorrow morning.
You throw the roses in your hand into the caskets until you reach Simons. Your hand trembles as it holds the thorny rose, shakily you bring it to your lips and kiss the petals before tossing it into his grave. "I love you Simon Riley."
You watch as the city of Manchester flows past you like a river. It's raining again and the droplets obscure your vision of the outside world. People around you talk and you realize just how out of place you are. These are 16, 17 and 18 year olds with bright eyes and dreams. You vaguely wonder if Simon had sat in silence as he liked to do or if he had been dragged into a conversation. You glance at your duffle bag by your feet before leaning your head back and shutting your eyes. The bus ride would be a long one, you figure that some rest would make it faster.
Your name is called and you step forward, you hold onto the bag of items shoved into your arms. You listen to the drill sergeant yell that these are your items. You are responsible for maintaining and keeping track of all things in this bag. You realize, in a way that makes it difficult not to smile, that Simon was right. They are hard arses here.
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You wonder why Simon never told you about this but he never seemed to tell you anything. You curse the dead man and curse yourself for being impulsive. Nearly done with university and you dropped out for him, for a dead man who was buried alone in his own grave. You use your anger to make it to the end, your uniform is covered in mud and the sensation makes your skin crawl but you run forward towards the rope wall, swinging your rifle over your back. “Come on Private!” The drill sergeant screams at you, “I’ve seen injured men move faster than you do!” You grit your teeth as he mocks you.
The scratches that litter your body sting as you crawl through the mud and muck underneath the barbed wire with a rifle held close to your chest. You breathe out puffs of condensation in the air, you’re shivering and you keep your jaw clenched so your teeth don’t chatter. You keep crawling, inching like a caterpillar towards the end of this section and fight the urge to just lay there on the ground. The cold rain soaks through your clothes and you grunt when part of the barbed wire above you catches onto your leg again. “Fuck.” You hiss but you’re nearly there.
It's his job, you remind yourself, to try and break you. If Simon leaving didn’t break you, if him and his family dying didn’t break you then this fucking drill sergeant was not going to break you. You climb up the rope and grapple onto the next bit of rope, locking your legs with your ankles and you inch down the rope even as your hands burn.
That night as you sit in the corner of the mess hall, you itch at the bandages wrapped around your hand. Whatever salve the lady in the med bay had slathered onto your hand hadn’t done much to cool the burning. You know it's counterintuitive to scratch at it but who was going to stop you? You were an adult now and could suffer the consequences of your stupid actions. Like not demanding Simon give you answers on why he was pulling away after finally confessing his feelings. You clench your fist and smother those feelings with the pain you feel.
No matter how many times you try to remind yourself there's no point in focusing on the past you can’t stop. How can you stop? Everything you’ve done has been for him and now he’s gone and you’re still doing things for him. You look around the mess hall at the different groups of fellow trainee’s and know you’ll never have that kind of connection with anyone else. Simon was it. Your best friend since childhood, your first crush and first heartbreak. You wander outside and sit on a stack of crates near the mess when the talking and clanking of silverware grows too much.
The night is cool, the sky is clear from the rain that had poured so hard earlier but you can’t see the stars anyway. You go to itch at your hand again when a drill sergeant comes around the corner. You stiffen up and immediately get up to salute but he dismisses you before you even get your hand to your forehead. “Private, why aren’t you in the mess eating?”
“Lost my appetite, sir.” You reply, “Figured some fresh air would do me some good.” You go to scratch at your hand again and his eyes snap to the motion.
“Private, did the nurse not provide you with burn cream?” He asked and it was weird having the man who yelled at you all day suddenly become concerned for your well-being.
“She did, sir, it just itches.” You explain and the drill sergeant makes a face, for a second you worry that he will demand that you return to the med bay again. Instead, he nods.
“Dismissed Private. Get some rest.” You nod and scurry away to your barracks.
The helicopter’s wings slow but any flyaways in your hair whip and stick to your face anyways. After serving in the SAS for five years, you had been picked by Chief station Laswell and Captain John Price to be a part of the 141 task force. You couldn’t believe you had finally done it, all these years of serving and you start to finally believe that you might’ve done Simon some justice. All the broken bones, bruises and scars are worth it if it means he’s looking down on you fondly. You look between the four men in front of you. You recognize Captain Price immediately with his boonie hat and well groomed mutton chops. He extends his hand which you take and shake with a firm grip. “Boys, this is Gator. They’ll be joinin’ our task force startin’ today.”
The man standing next to Price smiles at you, beautiful white teeth with a stunning smile and soft brown eyes. He has a scar on his cheek and you wonder how he got it as you shake his hand, “This is Sergeant Garrick.” Price says and you beam back at him.
“A pleasure to meet you Sergeant.”
“No need for that, just call me Gaz.” He assures you and lets go of your hand. You turn to meet the third man and before you can even open your mouth or extend your hand to shake, he’s grabbing yours with a grip tight enough to shatter a few bones. He has a stupid mohawk haircut that he somehow makes work, crystal blue eyes and you can tell that he’s a little mischievous.
“I’m Sergeant MacTavish but e’eryone calls me Soap.” He laughs, warm like an early summer day, when he sees your eyebrows raise. “I’ll tell ye why later.” He promises with a wink.
“Oi! Johnny, stop hoggin’ the new meat.” You turn to the voice and have to stop yourself from taking a step back just so you could look at the man fully. He’s fucking huge. Broad shoulders, wearing all black and a skull mask to hide his face. You can barely make out his brown eyes from under all that eye black. His accent is rough, with a voice that gives away how much he smokes. He looks down at you, like you suspect he has to most people, and you want to slink away into whatever hole he thinks you crawled out of. Despite this, you stick your hand out for him to shake.
“And this is your Lieutenant, Ghost.” You have to stop yourself from snorting. Ghost, how fitting for a man literally wearing a skull mask. He grips your hand and gives it a firm shake as his eyes burn holes into your soul. You look at his hand when you feel something other than familiar flesh, it's a glove. Even funnier, its skeleton gloves. It sends you nearly into a giggle fit, yes this man is intimidating to a point where you would have been shaking in your boots a few years ago. But he’s unironically wearing skeleton gloves. How is that not funny? He gives you a firm shake but just as quickly removes his gloved hand from yours. “Alright Gator, Ghost will give you a quick tour around here and then I want you to report for training at 0500 hours.”
The tour is silent besides the simple sentences Ghost speaks and you’re that sure he wouldn’t if Price hadn’t put him on the spot for giving you the tour. “This ‘ere is the training hall, this is where yer expected to be tomorrow.” He gruffly says, stiff as a board. You nod and nearly jump out of your skin when someone wraps their arm around your shoulders.
“There ye are! I was tryin’ tae find ye.”
“Sergeant.” Ghost says gruffly and Soap rolls his eyes before removing his arm. “They are busy.”
“Away an bile yer heid.” Soap says with a laugh, “I ken that yer aboot as excited fer this tour as they are.” You didn’t need to see Ghost roll his eyes to know he did, it was just in the way the air shifts around the three of you. “Lemme take over the rest of the tour aye?” Ghost sighs but concedes which confirms that he would really rather be anywhere else than giving the FNG a tour. “Good lad.” Soap chuckles and pats Ghost’s shoulder.
Ghost leaves quickly for being a man so massive and Soap turns to you, “Dinnae mind him, he’s a big grump.” You snort and laugh while nodding in agreement. “Alright, let's continue this tour.” Soap claps a hand on your back and for the rest of the day, with breaks for food of course, he showed you around. He was certainly better at it then Ghost who acted like he had been asked to travel across the sahara desert while carrying you.
“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap groans while he stumbles back from you. Sweat sticks to your forehead and your usual hairdo is ruined but so is the way of sparring and training. “I see why they call ye Gator.” He grumbles as he holds his head. “Ye fuckin’ death rolled me.” Soap accuses and it was true. You have the strength to take down men bigger than you in not only height but sheer mass. It was a skill you had honed for the past several years ever since you figured it out in bootcamp.
You wrap your arms around him as he tries to pin you to the mat and roll. You twist with all your might and switch the position then without a second thought you slam your head against his. The force knocks your brain around and the headache you’ll get later is going to be absolutely terrible but the man under you groans and holds his forehead. “I yield! Holy shite.” He curses as you immediately back away from him. You glance around at the group of people who had made it this far into the training and then meet the eyes of your drill sergeant who, if you weren’t mistaken and didn’t have a concussion, looked almost proud.
That night as you hold an ice pack against your forehead and sit outside the mess hall away, he approaches again. “Never seen a private do that.” He says after immediately acknowledging your salute and telling you to be at ease. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do that before.” You sheepishly shrug.
“I didn’t want to lose.”
“And so you didn’t.” A silence hangs in the air as the crickets chirp and you wonder if that's an owl’s hoot you hear. “I think you're going to have a nickname before you even leave camp.” He says, “You have the other sergeants wantin’ to call you Gator.”
“Gator?” You ask even if you understand the implications. You guess you did a kind of death roll that poor buy but Gator? Really?
“Better than some poor sod who got named Dirt because he ended up with a mouth full of dirt after tripping on the 20 mile march.” You chuckle at that.
“I guess Gator is much better than Dirt.”
“That’s the spirit. You better get some rest for tomorrow, Private.” He says before walking away and just like that time, leaving you to sit in the cool night air before you heed his warning.
You grit your teeth as Ghost ignores you again. You’re just trying to get him to sign from fucking paperwork Captain Price asked of you. “Lieutenant I need-”
“Not now sergeant.” Ghost says as he walks away from you and you want to scream. Its been like this the entire time you’ve been on this team. At first you thought it was his way of hazing you, act like a dickhead and see if the FNG breaks. Well you haven’t broken, you’ve only doubled down because every time he acts like this you keep being reminded of Simon and how he wouldn’t have given up.
At least Gaz and Soap were more open to you being on their task force now that months had passed. Although you doubt if Soap had ever disliked the idea of you being on the force. You barely duck Gaz’s punch but aren’t fast enough to catch his leg before it slams full force into your side. You grab it before he can bring it back and yank on it so he falls onto the floor, he rolls over before you can pin him down. You stare at each other for a moment before you lunge at him like a rabid dog without a leash.
He steps to the side and then grabs the back of your shirt collar to slam you down into the mat. You squirm and fight to keep him from pinning your arms back but it's no use. And in this position, death rolling him was nearly impossible. And you’ve definitely been trying. “Distracted Gator?” Gaz asks as he pants and you snarl back at him before you let out a meek ‘I yield’. He releases you immediately and you rub your wrists. “Broken?”
“Negative.” You say as you walk over to grab your bottle of water.
Watching you spar from the corner was Ghost. He observes the way you fight and the way you wiggle out of every attempt to pin you until the last. If it wasn’t for your infamous ability to death roll, he’s sure you would have ended up being called Weasel. And wasn’t that an amusing thought? Still better than Soap. “Ye stalkin’ the FNG.” Soap teases and Ghost glances down at Soap with what he knows is a deadpan expression. Or at least deadpan eyes. Mask and all that.
“You stalkin’ me?” Ghost shoots back and Soap grins this feral grin that makes Ghost groan inwardly because that grin meant only one thing. Dog with a fuckin’ bone, thats what Soap is when he thinks he’s smelt something out. “Don’t start MacTavish.”
“Oh its MacTavish it is?” Soap feigns hurt as he clutches his chest. “Ye wound me sir.”
“It is when yer about to say somethin’ god awfully stupid.”
“Yer no fun L.T.” Soap laments and Ghost rolls his eyes while shaking his head at Soap’s antics. Soap looks past Ghost and to Gator who is talking with Gaz on the bench while the two of them drink water and give the other advice. “Slippery thing they are.” Soap comments and Ghost nods. “Dinnae think I’ve ever seen someone slip out of your hold befure.”
“Is tha’ the reason yer botheirn’ me Sergeant?”
“Botherin’ ye? Nae sir, jus’ wanna see how Gaz manages to take them down.” Soap says, a half truth and they both know it.
“They gave him a hard time too.”
“Do ye think tha’ they oil up befure every sparrin’ match?” Soap says with a smile and Ghost rolls his eyes despite the small smile growing beneath his mask. You look up and notice Soap and Ghost which immediately makes him want to flee the scene. Every time you lock eyes with him, it sends him back to his time in Mexico. You’re a constant reminder and he wants you gone. Simon is dead and he’s not sure why you even joined the fucking military in the first place. Last he knew you were close to finishing off your degree, did you drop out to join this place?
Ghost grits his teeth as he shoves the memories of both Roba and you back into the box he had stuffed the two of you into years ago. He can’t open the box for one without the other escaping. You offer him a small smile and he turns on his heel. He walks as quickly as he can back to his private quarters, perks of being an officer and also being dead he guessed. He slams his door behind him and marches right into the bathroom. He yanks off the mask and stares at himself. He stares at the scars across his face, his broken one-too-many-times nose and the scar that cuts his lip. He takes stalk of his flaws within his face, the one you had seen and hadn’t recoiled from.
He wonders if you even suspect that its him and his chest hurts at the thought that you’ve forgotten him. But he knows he hasn’t earned his right back into your life, he’s dead. He can never be the man you need or want, he’s different now. Much more scarred than when he returned from Mexico, he’s brash and rude. He doesn’t like people and he doesn’t like that he still wants to be near you. It’s irrational, it’s stupid and there’s nothing he can do about it but try and get to you to quit.
“Captain Price told me to give this to you.” A Corporal says, clearly shaking in his boots, as he hands Ghost a file. “A-and he told me that he wants you in the briefing room.”
“Dismissed Corporal.” Ghost says and the man scurries off. Ghost looks at the file and opens it, the first thing he sees is that it’s a duo op. The second thing he sees is that you’re the one coming along. “Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters as he looks at your little picture papercliped to the top of the page next to his faceless one.
“He always does that.” You groan to Gaz as you watch Ghost turn on his heel and leave once you lock eyes with him. “Did I do something wrong?” You ask, “It's been months.”
Gaz shrugs, “Ghost is an enigma, when you start to think you know him you find something else about him. That man has secrets upon secrets.” You frown at that statement. Obviously he was hiding his face to protect his identity and of course that made you naturally curious but you’ve never pressed about it. He’s quiet and efficient if any of the stories told you by Gaz and Soap were anything to go by. And now he’s a secret keeper.
Who are you Ghost?
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”The group that had been inhabiting the old soviet base are still lingering around and might return when they realize that they’ve left behind a very important piece of information.” Captain Price says and points to the projected map on the wall. “You’ll need to be fast and efficient. Is that clear?” His blue eyes scan over the two of you and both of you echo a ‘yes sir’ at the same time. “Good, get your gear and be ready, you’re wheels up in two hours.”
You sit at the table in the briefing room, bouncing your leg up and down under the table as Captain Price goes over what the mission objective is and what intel you and Ghost will be going in with. The mission is in Siberia, the objective is to get an old usb drive from a recently re-abandoned USSR base. You glance over at Ghost who hasn’t stopped looking at you this entire time, only dragging his eyes away from you when Captain Price addresses him specifically. His brown eyes seem to be trying to burn holes into your very soul so you try to match it. This would be your first duo op with Ghost and you would not be pushed around during it.
“Yes sir.” You say and leave the room after being properly dismissed. You look at the file in your hand, the information covered in the briefing summarized in the file with certain things blacked out. Like the fact this is in Siberia or that it’s an old soviet base that had been taken over by a terrorist group for a short while. You worry about that fact, if this base had been well and truly abandoned, why would the group set up there? Siberia wasn’t exactly a very hospitable environment and would take a certain amount of resources to deal with. Not just any kind of terrorist group would be able to afford those expenses.
“What’s got ye frownin’ so hard?” Soap asks and you jolt, not even aware that Soap had come up to you. He glances at the file and whistles, “Yer on a mission with L.T?”
”Somethin’ wrong with that? Something I should be worried about?” You ask, glancing behind Soap to make sure that specter wasn’t there.
“Nae, nothin’ ye should worry about besides the stick up his arse.” Soap jokes and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. Soap grins, “There’s that smile.” Soap pinches your cheek and you swat at his hand.
”What are you? My aunt?”
”Nae I’m worse.” Soap laughs as he goes to pinch your cheek again. You squeal and laugh as you take off towards the armory and Soap gives chase. You eventually make him leave, shoo-ing him off so you can change into your gear. The gear is heavy but familiar, a comforting kind of weight that you always mourn once an op is over. Tightening the strap of your vest until you felt like it was secure enough and doing the same thing with the gun holster on your thigh.
”You tighten it anymore and you’ll lose blood flow.” Ghost grunts and you stop yourself from startling a little. Ghost walks up to you and loosens the straps himself a little before your brain starts working again. You slap his hands away and glare up at him.
”I am perfectly capable of knowing when to stop tightening my straps.” You hiss. You had been in the SAS long enough to know your preferences and the fact that he is trying to baby you is insulting at best and downright disrespectful at worst. Ghost stares down at you, brown eyes dead but also filled with some kind of emotion you can’t place. He says nothing else, doesn’t even grunt, before he turns to get his gear on. You huff and finish preparing your items for the op.
You go over the file one last time while on the flight to Siberia, flipping through the different pages and you can’t fight off the gut feeling that something isn’t right. You bounce your leg as you look at the map of the base, for an old soviet base, it's small. Granted, you don’t know how big USSR bases in Siberia tended to be but this is just too small. You glance at Ghost and contemplate mentioning this to him but since the armory he hasn’t spoken a word to you. Let alone even look your way which would normally be a reprieve but right now you wish he would look, just so you’d feel less awkward starting a conversation. You remind yourself that he’s a Lieutenant, he knows more than a Sergeant such as yourself. You need to trust your commanding officer.
Ghost can feel the warmth from you, like you had leaked a part of yourself into his gloves and now he can’t get rid of it. He doesn’t understand why he had approached and went to fix your straps, really they are too tight for comfort, but when you had slapped his hands away it was like a shock had gone through him. Like his entire system had been rebooted from the simple touch, now he can’t even bear to look at you. He can feel the weight of your gaze on him though and that’s how he knows that he acted out of character. He clenches his fist so tight his knuckles are cramped when he opens it again, he wishes you would just say what you want to say.
He wishes you would yell at him so he would have something to tell Price about, to maybe get you booted off the team. He’s been a prick to you, moving your stuff in the rec room, eating your food and being condescending. What kind of drill sergeant you had, he didn’t know but they must’ve turned your will into steel. Or maybe you were always like that, you hadn’t given up on him when you got a glance at his life at home. You treated his bloody noses and busted lips, you convinced your parents to let him stay over as often as possible. You even went with him to get Tommy despite the shit Tommy and his shitty friends had put you through.
Ghost clenches his jaw, no matter what, this is better for you. He just needs to get you to quit or maybe transfer to some kind of safer job in the military if you’re so hell bent on staying. He still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you dropped out of university. He steals a glance and sees you looking at the file the same way you would look at study notes before a test.
You were right. Of course you were fucking right. Why do you have to be right? The base is much, much bigger than the intel said and worse is the fact that its not completely abandoned. “Get the fuck out of there!” Ghost yells over comms and you’re so close to just tearing the wiring in half so you don’t have to listen to him. You turn another corner, refilling the ammo in your pistol as the sound of pounding footsteps echo down the long concrete hallways of this underground base. You wait for the man to turn the corner and shoot him right between the eyes, the muzzle on your pistol only does so much and the sound bounces off the walls. ”I said to get out of there soldier!”
You snarl, “I’m getting this fucking USB drive, fuck off!” You say into comms as you run down the halls. Lights flicker above you and distantly you can hear soldiers yelling. Just a few more turns, you tell yourself as you slide into a wall, using your arms you push off it and keep going. Once out of this god forsaken underground, NOT abandoned, USSR base you’d die happy never seeing another concrete hall. You slam the door open to the server room stored deep in the base and lock it behind you, hoping that might spare you some time between you and soldiers surely running down the halls towards you.
”Don’t ignore me Sergeant!” His voice comes out warbled, likely because you’re so far underground. You clench your jaw so hard your teeth hurt as you fling open different desk drawers, toss everything onto the desk in search of the USB they sent you here for in the first place. After six desks, you realize there is no way there is a USB.
”Fucking CIA intel.” You grab an unused USB from a desk and jam it into the nearest computer. “Fucking lucky I took that damn class.” You mutter to yourself as you bypass the passwords and begin to download the information.
”Sergeant! I said get out of there, use your bloody ears!”
”I have to download everything myself!” You yell into the comms, “The intel was shite!” You slam your pistol into the PC you’re not currently using. “Fucking CIA.”
”I don’t care! I’m pulling us from this mission.”
”I’m getting this USB Lieutenant, you’re welcome to chew me out once I’m back on the surface.” You snap, “Going dark.”
”Don’t you da-“ You rip the wires out of your comms and throw the damn thing onto the floor.
Ghost yells into the comms again but only gets static back, he looks down at the base from the scope of his sniper. It looks abandoned, it looks small and easy to navigate but he heard what you said. He knows that its all a facade, that the terrorist group had found tunnels to another base nearby and have been smuggling weapons and food between those tunnels, hardly ever having to go outside at this base. Which is what led the intel team to believe its been abandoned and therefore an easy op. His heart is pounding against his chest and it hurts from how hard its beating against his chest, he keeps trying the comms. “Gator! Gator turn your comms back on!” He snarls into the mic but still nothing.
It’s then that it dawns on him that you didn’t just turn comms off, you ripped the wiring out. “God damn it.” He grunts as he gets off the ground, the snow disguising him falls to the ground as he hauls his sniper up and buries it under the snow between two trees. He pulls out his shitty cracked phone, that he frankly refuses to replace. He knows why and its not because he doesn’t like the newer versions. It’s because this one has those pictures of you, the version of you that hadn’t turned your back on civilian life yet. The version of you that makes him feel kind of sick for looking at now that he knows you now.
He opens up his map to the coordinates to the nearest safe house, and grabs his pistol before he puts his phone away. He sighs and makes his way down towards the base that must be crawling with enemy terrorists but no one gets left behind. And he’s not about to let you die down there, his grip on his pistol tightens for just a second before he forces his fist to relax. He saunters his way in, everyone is far too distracted with chasing you down to pay attention to the cameras. He slides down the ladder into the base and is immediately greeted with the muffled sound of an alarm. “Fucking hell.” He mutters as he readies his pistol and knife.
You grunt, push the metal cabinet against the door, pushing through the pain in your thigh to do so. By the time it’s in place, you collapse against the wall next to it, grunting at the pain that shoots up your thigh in quick bursts. You look at the bullet wound and can’t help the disgust that crawls up your face when you realize it's pumping blood out in the rhythm of your heart beat. It’s funny, you’ve been shot before but you never had the time to look at it. It makes sense that it would do that though. You lean your head back against the concrete wall and can’t help the sob that rips it way out of your throat. Not because you’re going to die, not entirely because of that. Because you’re going to die in a concrete box alone.
You smear your bloody hand against the wall, wiping it off as you fumble with your shirt, pull just enough fabric out and rip it. No, you think, you’re not going to die here. Anywhere but in fucking Siberia surrounded by enemies and in a damn concrete room underground. You wrap the torn fabric around your thigh, just above the wound and wrap it tightly. So tightly you can actually feel the blood flow being slowed and this time on purpose. You check the bullets in your pistol and laugh when you see only two. “And I’m fucking out.” You mumble just as you hear someone’s boots echo outside of the room. You rise on shaky legs and bite your tongue to keep from crying out from the pain but walk over to the corner. You raise the gun and point towards the metal cabinet that is rocking from the force of what must be either several people pushing or one big motherfucker.
You don’t pray, no sense in praying right now. Even if you did ask for forgiveness you wouldn’t get it, the blood on your hands is more than any person can justify, not even God because it is a rule. Thou shall not murder. You huff out a laugh at that, well you’ve certainly sinned. The metal cabinet comes crashing down and in bursts three men. Fuck. You fire your last two shots and take down the first two but when the third enemy hears the gun click, he laughs. It’s an ugly and horrible laugh, one that expresses his entire arrogance of you being in this situation. Wounded and without any ammo, your knife left behind in some fuckers neck a few corners ago. “You lose.” He taunts as he walks closer and your leg finally loses feeling, you slide down the wall as you stare at the man who is going to hopefully bring you death.
You’re reminded of that quote you read once, When I die, bury me in the woods, the wolves will be kinder to me than any man. And if you weren’t about to meet your end, you’d laugh at the fact you can’t even remember the woman who said it. You hope she got her wish. The man raises his pistol and presses it to your temple. You hear a bang echo in the room and expect for it all to be over but you grunt when the man lands on you. “What the fuck?” You mutter as you struggle to push the weight of a dead man off of you. He’s pulled off of you and you look up at the bloody skull face plate, “Aren’t you just a life saver?” You quip before you throw up.
Ghost huffs when you pass out after throwing up and narrowly avoiding his boots. He hauls you up and over his shoulder, tucking your pistol into your thigh holster. Trying to get you up the ladder was hell, he was constantly afraid that his grip would loosen and you’d fall to your death. The walk to the safe house is about half way done when he feels your stirring. He grips you tighter just in case you try to flail around and attempt to land yourself in the snow.
When you come to, you realize that you’re over someone’s shoulder. Just as you’re about to flail around, the memory of Ghost standing over you. “Awake now?” Ghost asks, his voice rough as always and that reminds you of someone you used to know. You give your reply in the form of a groan which is all that seems to want to leave your mouth. “We’re about an hour away from a safe house.”
”And I wasn’t told?” You snap, anger pushing past the way you feel like you’re going to throw up if you speak again.
”Need to know.”
”Well I might’ve needed to know!” You flail your arms around harmlessly before you collapse back to being a rag doll on his back. He doesn’t respond and when you think he’s about to return to his normal grumpy silence, he breaks it.
”What the fuck were you thinkin’?” He snaps and you jolt awake from the half sleep you had unknowingly slipped into. “Ripping your comm wires out and going dark. What the fuck Sergeant?”
”I wasn’t able to focus with you screaming at me to abandon the mission.” You immediately jump to defend, “I got the damn USB drive with the intel they need, I completed the mission.” You don’t even realize that he’s reached the safe house until he nearly kicks the door in because the doorknob is frozen. He practically tosses you onto the couch before slamming the door shut. “I completed the objective.” You nearly snarl out.
”You failed to follow simple orders to retreat.” He slams his pistol and knife down on the table, “You nearly died.”
”Yeah, well it didn’t seem like you’d care all that fucking much if I did! If I hadn’t gotten the USB,” You pull the damn thing from your front vest pouch and throw it onto the table. “then the entire thing would have been a waste!”
”I don’t care about the USB, if you’re in danger like that you follow my damn orders! I can’t lose you!” Ghost grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you just a little. You look at him, feeling confusion creep up before it is swallowed down by anger.
”What?”
”Forget about it.”
”No. You’ve been treating me like a damn nuisance the minute I joined the task force and now you suddenly care? Why now huh? Why now? Because you sure didn’t act like I mattered very much.”
”I said forget about it.” He snarls but you go to stand on shaking legs
”No fuck that! Fuck you Ghost! What changed?” You keep hounding him until he slams his fist down the table and rips off his mask.
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He says your name gently, like he’s trying to soothe an animal but you’re frankly ready to sink your teeth into his skin if he tries to approach. “You didn’t even have the courage to write? Not even a little postcard? Something! Anything! To let me know you’re not dead? You’re lucky I’m not able to walk.” You spit.
Rage boils up in you so quickly, so quickly you aren’t able to express it all just through yelling. It burns you up, sets you on fire and throws lighter fluid into that inferno any time you think it's about to burn a little less. It’s all consuming anger mixed with all those years of grief that you never properly addressed, just slapped a bandaid on called military life and carried on. Hot tears run down your face as you scream and rage at him. You even throw something at him, though he ducks out of the way easily. “You fucking bastard! You bastard! Fuck you Simon Riley!” You scream as you cry, head pounding from something. The pain in your thigh? The rage in your temple? Or how hard you’re crying? Probably a mixture of all three. “You’re dead! I buried you! I went to your funeral Riley!” You throw something else at him, probably an MRE.
”Would you listen-“ Simon tries to say but you immediately cut him off. Hearing his voice makes whatever walls you have built up over these five years crumble so easily. You can’t let him speak or else you’ll fall into his arms and just cry. And you need to be angry because you deserve to be angry.
”No! You listen to me Simon Riley!” You ball your hands into fists, “Why? Why did you treat me like shit? Why did you undermine me at every turn? It’s bad enough that you let me believe that you were dead! Wasn’t that enough for you? But of course it wasn’t, you had to make my life hell because you met me again!”
”Shut up!” Simon finally snaps, his brown eyes swirling with fury and guilt. “I had my reasons and if you would just-”
”Well what were they then? Huh? I’m all fucking ears.”
”You keep interrupting me. If you didn’t-“
”You had months to come clean Simon! Years if you count the time before I met you again and after all that time you couldn’t just be a man and tell me? Couldn’t even send me a hint that you were alive?” You slam your fist into the wall, you ignore the pain that shoots right up your arm into your shoulder. You glare at him through your tears and wipe at them frantically. “You didn’t even try.”
”I did it to protect you! And if you’d just let me speak I’d tell you all the reasons I had to not tell you or even let you think I was alive!” Simon finally manages to say, he goes to speak again and you hold up your hand.
”Don’t talk to me Simon Riley.” You say as you wipe away any tears from your cheeks that hadn’t rolled all the way down. Your eyes burn and your stomach hurts from just how much you’re feeling right now. Deep down, past the anger you feel relief because he’s alive. Your Simon is alive and maybe more rough around the edges with a scar bisecting his lip, a nasty scar along his cheek and nose broken and not properly set several times. You’re also sure his eye bags have increased tenfold since you last saw him but his eye black keeps that little fact hidden from you. His teeth are chipped and broken but his brown eyes still hold that same depth. You can tell he still smiles the same and he’s still that overprotective boy who had scared off your date that one time just by opening the door.
That’s still your Simon Riley. But damn him to the deepest hell and back for making your heart hurt so badly. “Fine.” He grits out before he marches to what you assume is the safe house bathroom and slamming the door behind him.
There is something wrong with me. That is Simon’s first thought when he looks at himself in the mirror that must be old because his reflection is warped. There is something wrong with me and it's not the scars or the way my joints ache when I stand or sit down. There is something wrong with me and it makes my blood run black. Simon wonders if he had been born wrong. He suspects he’s always been this way, he was his father’s son after all, doomed to be awful to all of those he knows. To use them and drain them dry until they cut him off or he tosses them away. He doesn’t want you to be part of that cycle, to be a part of the cycle that always results in those close to him dying.
He already lost his family, he couldn’t lose you too so he cut you out completely. It was better if you thought he was dead. You were better off thinking he was dead in the ground even if it hurt you, even if it hurt him. And fuck did it hurt that first year, every time something happened he wanted to call you or text you. Tell you all about it late at night in a part of base where no one would care if he was awake if they even dared to approach him at all. Simon wanted to return to you more then anything but Ghost hadn’t dug himself out of that grave and lost his entire family as consequence for not fucking dying just for you to meet that same fate. No, you’d be his only in memory. Maybe one day he’d stalk your social media and find that you’ve moved on. Hopefully out of that fucking city, working a good paying job with a man who deserved you.
And it didn’t matter how much that thought made his supposedly ice heart hurt. It didn’t matter because he was dead and there was nothing he could give you besides this rotting body and whatever love he could scrape together for you.
Simon looks at himself in the mirror, completely maskless and bare for what felt like the first time in years. It felt like his skin had been pulled away to show the maggots, rotting tendons and muscle underneath. Every tear that had left your beautiful eyes had felt like acid on his skin, every word thrown his way a well placed knife throw. He knew he deserved all that malice and if you didn't want to talk to him, then he wouldn’t talk to you. No matter how much he wants to.
The next two days go by slowly, it reminds you of the time you had to go through a bog. Slow movements and time seemed to slow to a fucking crawl as you traversed the bog to go around an enemy encampment so you could get the jump on them from behind. It didn’t matter that your clothes had been soaked through or that you could feel the cold of the water seeping into your bones. You kept going. So the same logic was applied here. Your bullet wound in your thigh eventually got treated properly, in silence of course. Simon had given you the first aid kit and you did your best with what you had. Digging out the bullet had to be one of the most painful experiences you’ve ever had.
Simon had wanted to step in and do it himself but he knew you’d sooner accept an infection then let him any closer then needed. By the end of the hour and several deep, guttural screams cut off only by the belt between your teeth, you had managed to pull the bullet out. You were quick to stitch the hole closed and to wrap it in bandages. When that was over, you only had enough strength to crawl onto the shitty couch and pass out.
The first day not talking to him was filled with tension. It was so thick you could cut it with your knife, if you had it that is. It’s still stuck in that asshole’s neck which sucks because it was a good neck. You were hesitant to put any pressure on your wound, terrified of ripping your frankly shit stitches and increasing the chances of you getting an infection. You spent the entire day cleaning and taking apart your gun with occasional glares sent to Simon if he tried to enter the same room as you and stay for more than a few minutes.
He understood your anger, he did, but he couldn’t stand it at the same time. He wants to sit right next to and soak in your presence in a way he hadn’t allowed himself before this. He hadn’t bothered to put his mask back on and when he had stepped out of the bathroom without it the first time you had jerked like someone had pinched you. You could still tell he had blonde hair from his eyebrows but seeing his blonde hair in a buzz cut had felt like an electric shock. That was still your Simon even all these years later and that made you angrier. How could he? How dare he? After all these years, he looked the same despite the scars on his face but you? Do you still look the same despite the weariness in your eyes and being grief eaten.
The only word he spoke to you was, “There’s a blizzard coming in tomorrow.” You had only given a grunt in acknowledgement which he had to admit, stung. How many times had he responded to you like that while trying to get you to quit and transfer somewhere else? Far too many times, he ran a gloved hand through his prickly hair as he shook his head. God he had been so fucking stupid and stubborn. As it turns out, the blizzard couldn’t wait until tomorrow or maybe it was the next day. The wind shook the entire safe house, the walls creaked and groaned from the force of it. The windows were covered by snow or maybe it was a white out, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t even want to lift your head to check. You were fucking freezing despite your thermals and the blanket. Your teeth chattered as you pulled the blanket even closer and closed your eyes. Your cheeks were numb and you could barely feel your nose, your fingers actually hurt from how cold they were.
You blew more warm breath into your cupped hands, your entire body shivered as another burst of wind caused the house to groan from the weight of it. You glanced around the living room/kitchen area, the fireplace was boarded up but it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t, you had no wood. The only thing of light was a battery powered lamp that you had been surprised still worked. You knew where Simon was, in the only other room besides the bathroom, the bedroom. Getting up those stairs would have been impossible for you the first two days here with your injury. Hell, you even doubted if you had enough strength to do it now even with the protein and nutrient packed MRE’s given to you for rations. But you suspected if you didn’t seek out another form of warmth and soon, you’d end up a popsicle. And frankly? That sounded like a bad way to go.
You shakily got to your feet, where it was from being nervous about putting weight on your injured leg or if you were cold, you couldn’t be sure. But you wobble up the stairs, gripping the rail for life the entire way and nearly falling when you finally manage to get the doorknob to turn. Simon catches you, he opens his mouth to chastise you before he realizes the state you’re in. He mutters your name, brown eyes filled with worry as you shrug, too tired and frozen to verbally shrug. He shakes his head and brings you to the mattress in the corner, he quickly runs downstairs and grabs your blanket before returning upstairs. You grumble, which honestly was just noises from the back of your throat as he settles next to you, pulling both blankets over the two of you. After a few minutes and warming up a little you mumble, “This doesn’t change that I’m upset with you.”
”I would never expect it to.” He whispers back as he wraps an arm around you. It shouldn’t be as easy as it is, like two pieces of a puzzle finally snapping together. You seep warmth from him like a leech while he holds you close and steady enough that you don’t shiver or shake. He stays awake the entire time, long after you’ve fallen asleep on your pack-made-pillow. Simon looks at you and drinks you in properly this time. Despite the blizzard outside still raging on and the cold temperatures making your skin lose a little color, you’re still as stunning as the day he confessed his love to you. He can still recall that day, sitting at a bench a little ways away from the reception party. The cool October breeze blowing through and the way you looked so relaxed. So content with the moment and with him. He kissed you that night, he kissed you like a starving animal. Like he might never get to kiss you again and that he needed to take what he could now.
“I love you Simon Riley. I have since we were 15. Don’t leave me again Simon, not if you can help it.” He was fucking idiot not to say it back, he didn’t even think to do so because his heart had been stabbed the moment you pleaded with him not to leave because he was leaving again. He was leaving you, the best thing in his entire life. Then he came back fucked but he did his best to get better. He didn’t want to touch you, he was terrified he would hurt you. Force himself on you, every night he dreamed that he was hurting you and that he enjoyed it. The therapy helped a little, you and his family helped a lot. Having something to return to helped so much. Then it all came burning down and damn it, he wasn’t going to let you die. So he killed the men then he returned to Mexico and killed Roba and his entire cartel. Then he never returned home, he never let you even think that he was alive. He glances down at you, sleeping in his arms
Sometimes, if he looks at you even now, he can recall the day the two of you met.
It was so cold and the rain didn’t make anything better. He trembles in his too-big shirt and pants which are rolled up to stop him from tripping again. He sniffles and wipes at his face, if he wipes away tears or the rain he doesn’t know. Other kids pass by him quickly with their umbrellas, rain coats and boots, protected by the things their mum’s and dad’s buy for them. His dad had sold his and Tommy’s umbrella’s and coats to afford more alcohol and drugs. Being the good big brother that Simon told himself he was, he let Tommy take their mum’s coat instead of him. He didn’t regret that, he could never regret making Tommy’s life a little better.
He isn’t expecting you to walk up to him with an umbrella with yellow ducks on it. He recognizes you almost instantly, you go to his class. You ask him, “What are you doing without an umbrella?” with your head tilted to the side like a confused puppy.
He mumbled out, eyes averted to the ground and soggy strawberry hair sticking to his forehead, “I don’t have one.” You asked if his mum didn’t buy him one. She did, she always did her best to provide for him and Tommy but his dad always ruined it. You don’t wait for him to respond, you don’t push for further answers or make fun of him for not having an umbrella or raincoat.
Instead, you smile at him and hold the umbrella with yellow ducks on it over his head after pulling the hood of your coat over your head. “Well it doesn’t matter now, I’m here and we can share.” You give him your name and he gives you his with the tiniest smile on his face. You held the umbrella over his head the entire way there then you walked him home because it was still raining. You called him a friend.
When you wake up, he lets you sit in silence. The blizzard had mostly passed through during the night, the worst of it was over but the safe house outside of the blankets was freezing cold. Simon knew he wasn’t exactly in a rush to leave the warmth and comfort of this moment. The silence hangs between the two of you and at some point, you begin to play with fingers in the way you used to when growing up. It takes a better part of an hour for him to work up the courage and it really feels like he is going to throw up when he whispers, “Do you still love me?” It’s quiet that if you didn’t know his voice that you’d think it was the wind still blowing.
He swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for the killing blow. For you tell him that you don’t love him anymore, especially after these five years and the shit he pulled. But it doesn’t come, instead he hears your shuffling and feels your slightly cold hands cup his stubble covered cheeks. He peaks his eyes open and nearly melts at the sight before him. You, nearly in tears as you look at him so fondly like you did that October day. “Of course I still love you Simon Riley.” He can’t stop himself from closing the gap between the two of you as tears spill from both of your eyes and kiss you.
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”I love you Simon Riley.” You kiss his cheeks, “I love you.” You kiss his forehead, “And I’ll keep loving you for eternity.” Simon melts with each kiss you give him and sighs when you kiss his lips again. His large hands find your waist and tug you closer, his thick thigh parting yours as his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. You happily part your lips for him, your hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue explores your mouth and a needy moan leaves you. Your heart aches still and tears keep slipping down your face because he’s here. Simon Riley is alive and has been for years. The relief is almost enough to make you forgive him on the spot.
You’re taken by surprise when he kisses you, it's gentle and some tears slip between your connected lips. You don’t even realize that either you or him has started to cry but you return his kiss, trying to keep him this close for as long as you can without breathing. His hands tug you closer, if he could tear open his ribs and stuff you in there instead of his heart and lungs, he would. When you finally pull away, tears still running down your cheeks, you look at him. Tears run down his cheeks too and wet the fabric of his shirt now that they’re not being caught between your lips and spread between your cheeks and his. “Say it again.” He croaks and you repeat it.
Maybe you are forgiving him in a way, not fully. God knows that it will take a lot more than just this to make you forgive him but it's a start. And it’s a start you desperately need, your fingers dig into him further which pulls a groan from him. Immediately you loosen your grip on him, fearing that you’ve hurt him until he pulls away completely breathless and with pupils so wide there’s hardly any brown left, “Don’t stop doing that.” He leans in and whispers against the shell of your ear. It sends goosebumps rising up on your skin as you dig your fingers back into him right as his mouth connects with yours again.
He rests a hand on the back of your neck to keep you close and connected to him. You feel like a teenager again when he slips one of his thick thighs between your own and you grind down on it nearly out of pure instinct. The pressure of your pants seam pressing against your clit makes your legs weak and a liquid warmth to pool. You do it again and you moan into the kiss, his other hand which he had used to cup your cheek immediately went to your hip and grabbed it. He doesn’t try to stop you, instead he encourages you to grind against his thigh. He mutters something against your lips and it comes out muffled but it sounds like, “Take what you need love.” And you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
You grind against him, a little harder this time which causes your entire body to jolt as the electric pleasure shoots up your spine. His hand on the back of your neck tangles itself into your hair and he pulls away only barely so he can catch his breath. You’re left breathless and panting as you grind against his thigh, he rests his forehead against yours and his eyes focus on you using his thigh. “Fuck.” He mutters as his hand on your hip moves up and cups your chest. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and you furrow your brows, your pace faltering at his words.
”Did I do something wrong?”
“No! No, I’m sorry fo’ bein’ such a twat.” He says and pushes his thigh back against you. Your head tips back as a moan leaves your throat and you resume your previous pace. He gropes and paws at your chest, trying to pinch and twist at your hardened nipples from over the fabric of your shirts. “Love, please let me- let me push your shirt up.” He begs and you immediately give your consent. He doesn’t waste another second and pushes your shirt up as far as it would go then he grumbles something to himself before he pulls it over your head and discards it nearby.
He dips his head down and immediately takes a nipple into his mouth while his hand squeezes the other breast. He sucks on it, laving his tongue over it like a dog and letting his teeth graze it slightly when he figures out it makes your hips jolt. You tighten your grip on his shoulders as your thighs tense up and you desperately keep rocking your hips against his thigh. “Si-Simon I’m cl-“ You’re cut off by your own moan when he switches nipples and when he looks up at you between blonde lashes your orgasm washes over you. Your hips stutter and your entire body jolts once or twice as you soak your underwear. Simon swears at the sight of your mouth falling open and your head tipping back to expose your entire neck.
His fingers are nimble as he unbuttons your pants, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of both the pants and your underwear then yanks them down. “Let me? Please let me make you feel good.” He begs and you nod, mind still trying to piece itself back together after the first orgasm. He shuffles under the covers and it’s kind of funny to see the bottom half of his body sticking out but the sight of it is pulled away from you as he yanks you further down the mattress.
”Simon-“ You yelp before it’s cut away into a moan. There’s no preamble or teasing, likely because he feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t have his mouth on your cunt now, before he buries his face in it. You grab at the blankets, your mouth falling open as you moan when his tongue flicks your engorged clit. He can’t seem to decide if he wants to focus on your clit or your pulsing hole, dipping his tongue down to slurp up your juices before returning to your clit. He’s desperate, his hands are gripping your thighs like you might try and pull away despite your moans and pleads for more filling the safe house.
He eases one thick finger into you as he sucks on your clit and you see stars in your vision. “Like that- oh my god- like that please don’t stop.” You whimper as your fingers card through his hair. You moan and start to squirm a little as he begins to pump his thick digit in and out of you. He seems to be searching for something, trying different things and sticking to the one that makes you keen the loudest. He crooks his finger just right and your thighs tense up around his head as a moan tears through your throat.
Like the sniper that he is, he focuses on that spot within your increasingly soaked cunt as he tortures your clit with his mouth. The slurping sounds have your cheeks heating up and you squirm as he pushes a second finger into you with no resistance. He rubs against that soft spot inside you that causes your body to relax further and pins down your hips when you try to squirm away from his tongue.
“Simon- nngh- that feels so-“ You can barely string together a sentence as he seems intent on rendering you boneless and incapable of speech as he abuses your g-spot. You feel a tightness growing within your abdomen, like something is winding up before it lets go. It barely registers in your brain that you’re on the verge of cumming. Simon must feel it too, with the way your pussy clamps down around his fingers, because he redoubles his efforts. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as your pussy pulses without a rhythm and you’re thrown over the edge. The muscles in your thighs clench involuntarily as the pleasure runs through you. He keeps rubbing at that spot through your orgasm, his fingers soaked in your slick as you twitch a little from the aftershocks.
You try to move upwards when he eases a third finger into you but he holds you down. “It’s too much.” You choke out as he crawls up your body, leaving a trail of sticky wet kisses. “Si please.” You hiccup as he begins to work you open with those three fingers.
”Got to work you open love.” He mutters reassuringly before capturing your lips in a kiss. He swallows down your moans like the greedy man he is, keeping all of these sounds for himself. He doesn’t care if the two of you are the only people around for miles upon miles, he doesn’t even want the walls to know your sounds in case they ever learn to talk. You whine at his words and a hand grabs his bicep as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. The stretch of three of his fingers is delicious, just that slight sting that ebbs away the more he finger fucks you.
It feels like he rips the next orgasm out of you, your entire body tenses as it slams into you. You feel yourself gush on his thick fingers and he keeps going, keeps fucking you through it until your pushing at his arm and pleading for a moment of reprieve. It’s only until tears gather in your eyes that he finally stops. Simon peppers your face in kisses while he whispers that he’s sorry. He promises that he’ll do right by you this time, no more running away or disappearing. He swears it as you unbuckle his pants and pulls them down. There’s a noticeable wet patch on his boxers but you don’t comment on it, just pull those down as well. Your mouth waters and your eyes widen when you see his cock.
It's thick, uncut and long. The tip is red from neglect and drips pre-cum like a leaky faucet. His cock is heavy that it hangs low and his brown eyes are filled with lust as he watches you reach down and wrap your hand around his length. “That’s not going to fit.” You finally whisper out, meeting his eyes which crinkle from the cocky smile on his face.
He leans down, body draping over yours. You can feel his body heat rolling off him in waves as he takes his cock from your hands and lines up the bulbous tip with your cunt. He strokes it a few times with his slick coated fingers as he looks you in the eyes before whispering, “I’ll make it fit.” When he pushes it, he does it slowly. You can feel every ridge, every pulsing vein of his cock against your walls. Despite having stretched you with three of his fingers before hand and making you cum twice the sting remains. It’s a sweet burn, a delicious heat that licks from your hips up to the back of your skull. It grounds you to the moment as his fingers dig into you as his hips meet yours, bottoming out in you he lets out a low moan. His eyes flicker down to where the two of you meet and he licks his lips at the sight.
He pulls back just a little and the squelch that comes from your cunt when he pushes back in makes your face hot. He leans down and grabs your uninjured thigh. He hooks his arm around it and forces it up as he cages your body between his arms. You grab onto his shoulder and bicep, your eyes can’t seem to leave his as he thrusts in and out of you. The pace isn’t fast but his hips snap against yours, the sound of skin on skin fills the room and mixes with each noise pulled from you. Simon swallows the lump in his throat as he supports himself on one arm and cups your cheek, his thumb swiping something away. You sniffle and reach your hands up to his face, you try to drink his face. The same face you thought you would never see as tears roll down your cheeks and his cock fills you past the point of full.
“I love you.” You say between hiccups and moans. You watch as his eyes water and he buries his face within the crook of your neck. He mouths at the sweaty skin there and whispers that he loves you back. That he loves you so much it hurts and that he’s sorry. He repeats it over and over again with each roll of his hips and that feeling within your stomach grows again quickly. With each snap of his hips you feel yourself getting closer and more tears leak from your eyes. You cum again with his name on your lips and feel his hips stutter and loose pace. He grinds up against you, nudging your cervix in a way that causes a slight pinch within your lower abdomen that makes you clench down harder on him.
You feel him cum, you hear his groan right next to your ear as his hips come to a complete stop and pressed against the meat of your thighs. His sticky warm cum fills you, the feeling is odd. Foreign but not entirely unwelcome as he stays in that position after letting your thigh rest back down onto the mattress. You twist your head to the side and give him a quick kiss, “Say it again?” He whispers.
”I love you.”
Simon lets out a shaky sigh, the relief he feels is palpable, “I love you too.”
It’s not all that surprising that he can’t keep his hands off you and you’re not innocent either. After seemingly fucking all of your anger towards him out, the two of you cling to each other. He rocks his hips into your again, every movement lighting up your nerves in a way that seems never ending. Like this pleasure will swallow you whole but you don’t mind, it hides the twinges of pain from your thigh from being pressed so close to your chest. You kiss all of his face, soft moans from both of you mixing together into a melody.
”How long until someone is able to get us?” You ask later while you lay on his chest and trail your fingers up and down his abdomen. You’re exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open and the heat between the two of you is slowly lulling you further into sleep.
”The radio said they’ll be here tomorrow.” Simon replies and you mindlessly hum.
”What will happen when we leave?” You ask, “When all of this is over.”
”We’ll figure it out.” he murmurs and kisses you. “Rest up love.” You’re not surprised, actually delighted, when he wakes you up with kisses on your neck. He trails down from your jaw, nipping occasionally at the soft flesh which earns a wanton moan from you.
”Happened to resting?” You tease and he chuckles against you.
”Oops.” He says and it would be convincing if you couldn’t feel his smile. Simon’s hands trail down your naked body and he pushes two fingers back into your sopping wet cunt. You gasp and arch your back, eyes fluttering closed as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. “You’re so wet.” He groans, like he still can’t believe that you still want him. “Never going to let you go again.” He promises as he begins to abuse that soft part inside you.
Simon kisses your nose and you chuckle. “Excited?” You ask and he nods. It’s been two years since that mission when everything changed again. Two years since you found out Simon Riley never died, that he had refused to die once again. It had taken a little while to figure out what the both of you wanted, therapy helped a lot. It helped you realize that the military lifestyle, despite it being the thing you had only known for the past five years, wasn’t truly for you. Of course you had known that you had only joined in Simon’s memory but therapy helped you let go of it.
God bless John Price, bless him for being utterly professional despite two of his soldiers fucking which has to be the most unprofessional thing to do in the military. He looked at you with that smile that made his eyes crinkle when you placed the discharge paperwork on his desk that day 8 months ago. “Finally figured out what you want then?” He asked as he immediately signed off on it, not even bothering to read through it.
”Yeah, I have, Captain.” You said with a fond smile, you’d miss this. You’d miss him, Gaz and Soap but it wasn’t like they couldn’t come and see you when on leave. You’d only be an hour away in a nearby city anyways. You glance at the two keys in your hand, one for you and one for Simon. You place the second one into his palm. “Let’s go see our home then.” You pick up the cat carrier and Mittens meows in protest. You coo your reassurances to her, promising that it’s almost over. The three of you climb the steps up the porch of the townhouse you now own and Simon unlocks the door.
You glance around the currently empty space then glance behind you to the moving truck parked out on the side of the street. “I think it might take us a day to get everything in here.” You say when you turn to look at Simon
”I’d say two.” Simon says as he takes the cat carrier from your hands and sets it down next to the stairs. You quirk an eyebrow up and part your lips in an ‘o’ shape when you realize what’s on his mind.
”Really Riley?” You ask as you loop your arms around his neck and he chuckles as your expression.
”I’ve always wanted to bend you over a countertop.” He purrs as he tugs his mask down and plants a kiss on your neck which sends shivers down your spine.
”Is that so?” You ask as he backs you up against it after closing the front door. He hoists you up on top of it with a ‘mhm’ before he captures your lips in a kiss and his hands settle on your hips.
You grasp at the edge of the counter, moans being punched out of you with each thrust of his hips. The sound of skin on skin echoes in the house and mixes with his groans. Simon’s fingers dig a little harder into your hips, enjoying the sight of how your fat squishes up between his fingers. “You’re so fuckin’ stunning.” And all you can respond with is a moan as his fat cock abuses the tip of your cervix. “I’m gonna retire.” He babbles and his words hardly register in your mind as you begin to clench down on him as a sign you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. He loops a hand around and rubs mean circles around your clit which sends you falling off the edge.
He swears as your cunt clenches down on him like a vice and he spills himself in you all while he keeps rubbing at your clit. You lay there panting, trying to gather your senses as you blink away the tears of overstimulation once his hand falls away. You gasp and gulp down the air, “Simon?”
”Fuck I said that out loud didn’t I?”
You can’t help but giggle and shake your head. “You mean it?”
”Yeah, I mean it. I’m gonna look into retiring, I can’t be a soldier forever.” He rests his sweaty forehead against your back as he speaks.
”I love you so much Simon Riley.”
His hand reaches out and loops through yours, the matching rings on your fingers glinting in the light. “I love you too.”
390 notes · View notes
feyburner · 1 day
Note
In ur version, does Batman or Superman even approve of Kon and Tim being together?
Lol sorry I’m sure you intended this as an art prompt but instead I used it as a silly little writing exercise.
Clark Kent (Daily Planet) »
Hi! Do you have a moment to chat?
« Bruce Wayne
That depends.
Clark Kent (Daily Planet) »
On what?
« Bruce Wayne
On the subject matter, Clark Kent, Daily Planet Reporter.
Clark Kent (Daily Planet) »
Shoot. hang on
Superman (Justice League) »
Hi! Do you have a moment to chat?
« B
How many times a day does that happen
Just tell me. I can take it
Superman (Justice League) »
Not… that many…
« B
How many records are we scrubbing.
This week.
Superman (Justice League) »
Listen
You are the one who chose to make secret phones that are identical to normal phones
I don’t know what you were expecting
« B
It’s precautionary. In case they get lost.
They’re not identical. The Batcell’s haptic interface hardware is superior to the iPhone’s.
Slightly bigger too.
0.3mm.
Superman (Justice League) »
I’ll refrain from the obvious comment
But know I am thinking it
« B
So there’s a visual difference.
You have x-ray vision.
Superman (Justice League) »
If you think I’m going to x-ray my phone to figure out if the haptic interface software is 0.3mm larger than an iPhones every single time I need to send a text you are nuts
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That’s you
« B
Learning memes are we.
Superman (Justice League) »
That’s not a meme. It’s a reaction image
I think
« B
Doesn’t a reaction image have to be sent in reaction to something? By definition?
Superman (Justice League) »
I dont know.
« B
I don’t either.
Superman (Justice League) »
Okay.
« B
You said you wanted to chat?
Superman (Justice League) »
Yes
And let me just preface this with:
I am about to tell you something and I need you to be, with all due respect, so normal about it
« B
Jesus fucking Christ, what happened?
Superman (Justice League) »
Nothing!! bad
Nothing bad
« B
Where are you? Can you call?
Superman (Justice League) »
Ok calm down, I’m fine, everything is fine
I can theoretically call but I think this is the kind of thing you’re going to want to sit with, on your own, for a second
Maybe 30 full seconds actually. Maybe sit for 30 full seconds before taking any action
« B
Kal El, I am catastrophizing at the speed of sound.
Superman (Justice League) »
Then I bet it will be such a huge relief to learn that all Im going to say is I have it on good authority that Superboy has something to tell you, and normally I would never breach his trust like this, but again: I cannot emphasize enough that I need you to be so, so normal. When he tells you. Which I have reason to believe he will, imminently
« B
Alfred has just informed me that Superboy is on the doorstep.
On the doorstep, Kal.
Of my home.
Superman (Justice League) »
Huh!
« B
He’s asked to speak with me in the parlor.
“In the parlor.” Quote.
I forgot we had one of those.
What is this.
Superman (Justice League) »
Well
I think there’s a chance Kon is about to be very, very brave, to your face
And—keep in mind I’m saying this as someone who thinks the world of you and has boundless trust and faith in your ability to be kind, selfless, and accepting—
If he doesnt leave that house with a smile on his face and a spring in his step I will ruin your life.
« B
Jesus.
I know you’re only threatening me because of that, thing I said. Last time.
And yet, it’s still effective.
Superman (Justice League) »
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« B
Yeah.
Superman (Justice League) »
Yeah?
« B
Yeah.
Superman (Justice League) »
:)
« B
:)
I have to go meet your kid. “In the parlor”
Superman (Justice League) »
Be nice :)
« B
I will.
I know what he’s going to say anyway.
Superman (Justice League) »
Oh?
« B
He, and coincidentally also Robin, needs to work on his situational awareness.
With an emphasis on remembering to scan the environment for CCTV cameras.
Superman (Justice League) »
Ok to be fair there are a lot of cameras these days
« B
The incident in question took place on the rooftop of Wayne Tower.
Superman (Justice League) »
I see.
« B
Yeah.
Superman (Justice League) »
Yeah.
Unrelatedly are you coming over later?
« B
So you can ruin my life?
Yes.
Superman (Justice League) »
See you then :)
« B
Yes.
Wait.
It’s not weird now that…?
Superman (Justice League) »
Holidays may get awkward but I’m sure we will all cope.
« B
Okay.
:)
Superman (Justice League) »
Tell Kon I said hi!
« B
I will.
*
« B
Hey it’s Batman. I fucked up.
Superman (Justice League) »
What??
« B
Not with Kon’s thing. That went fine. But we kept talking and I mayh ave let something slip and I’d liek to apologize in advance bc I htink he’s on the way
Superman (Justice League) »
Kons at my window???
« B
Sorry.
Superman (Justice League) »
I will ruin your life!!!!!
« B
Nuts.
333 notes · View notes
k3n-dyll · 1 day
Text
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||Men, minors, and ageless DNI
CW: 18+, wlw, fem!reader, pure smut, oral (r!recieving), fingering (r!recieving), cheating, arranged marriage mentioned, southern accent, Abby is implied to be a criminal for like a second, getting caught Word Count: 1,186 || Masterlist || Divider creds || Palestine Links
Notes ☆ Some 1800s cowgirl Abby smut to hold y'all over while I get the similarly set series started (I'm being nitpicky about my writing). Also, didn't mean for this to be long lol
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➳ If you allow yourself to linger on the thought for a moment - to do a bit of mental gymnastics for the sake of getting this nagging feeling of guilt and shame to subside - this really isn't your fault.
Truly. It isn't. It's theirs.
You weren't the one that wanted to marry, and you sure as hell wouldn't have chosen this suitor of all of them. That was your pious father. Good intentions aside, he was the one that confined you to this life.
And your sorry excuse for a husband, well, he took the other half of the blame. He's never home, and when he is the man always seems to have more important things to do. Not that you really want his attention anyway, but still, it'd be nice to at least speak to the person you're forced to live with. Aside from when he wants to be inside of you, of course.
If not for them you wouldn't even be here.
If only your father hadn't mettled with your marriage status - let you become some sort of spinster instead. If your scraggly bearded husband had simply kept his shady business dealings in the back of a bar instead of inviting them to his home - her large, calloused hands wouldn't be caught so tightly around your hips. You wouldn't be sitting in the head chair of the office you weren't technically allowed to be in, but the one you had renovated, all the same, eyeing the perpetually unfinished paperwork on his desk in a sad attempt to keep yourself grounded.
"You taste so fuckin' good, y'know that?"
Abby's voice and the warm, wet feeling of her tongue dragging along your slit bring you out of your own head, hips bucking up slightly at the contact you've been all but whining for, while she just nipped and kissed at your inner thighs. You look down at the blonde positioned snugly between your legs with a furrowed brow, trying your best to seem disapproving though the moans you let out tell a different story.
Who does she think she is? Popping up at your front door in the middle of the day, knowing damn well your husband wasn't home from work. This had only happened a few times before and even so, you knew why she'd come over the moment you saw the smirk that tugged at the corner of her lips when you confirmed that the man of the house was out for the day.
She wanted to fuck you in his office this time. Defile the sacred workplace of the man she calls a "friend" simply to make you uncomfortable.
Her piercing blues gaze right back into your eyes, and while half her face is hidden underneath the fabric of your skirts, you can tell that smug smile is back by the way her eyes crinkle right before they close.
It's the last you see of her freckled face before your head is tossed back in pleasure, sinful moans flooding from your parted lips as she laps at your cunt. No amount of guilt or shame would ever make you feel low enough to tell her to stop - not when her tongue makes you squirm and twitch in ways your betrothed could only ever dream of doing.
Abby never fails to make herself seem like a woman starved, messily licking and sucking at your pulsing, puffy clit, slurping you up as if you were her first and last ever meal on this Earth.
And she'd be damned if she let you breathe for even a second.
She wants to hear you gasping, gulping for air before she allows herself to pull away and she does more even then. Pushing through a sore jaw and aching fingers without complaint for as long as you could handle it.
"A-Abby... can't take much more" You whine, your thighs squeezing onto either side of her flushed face as you gently palm at the top of her head.
A high-pitched whine escapes your throat at the curl of the two thick fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, a low, amused growl coming from Abby at the sound.
"Aw, c'mon baby. Y'got another one in there for me, don't you? You and I both know you won't get to feel this good for a long while once I'm gone" she speaks in that soft, honey-like tone that makes you weak in the knees. The gentle southern drawl laced within her every syllable sending shivers through your body at the sound alone. Looking down at her is a mistake you never fail to make in this circumstance. She knows what a simple look from her can do to you and she takes advantage of it without remorse, chuckling as she watches you nod in response.
"Atta girl" She lands a quick smack on your thigh before diving back into you, a concoction of spit and slick spilling down her chin and wetting the inner fabrics of your skirt, the only sound to accompany the smacking and sucking against your pussy being your whorish cries.
Your breathing becomes quicker and more shallow when you're close. Eyes glazing over as your jaw slacks, brows knitted together in desperation for another orgasm. Your tells are so predictable, yet so incredibly delicious to Abby. This is a state only she gets to see you in. Not that you've ever confirmed it aloud for her but it's clear to her that the pompous ass you're married to can't even make you cum.
"Say it, darlin'. C'mon, you know what I wanna hear" Abby growls, popping up from underneath your skirt, detaching her lips from around your clit, and replacing them with her thumb just to speak. Just to taunt you. You do know what she wants to hear, and part of you wants to roll your eyes at the thought. Maybe you would have if your head wasn't so blank. If you weren't so aware that she'd stop pumping her fingers inside of you completely if you didn't give her the satisfaction, maybe you would be so bold as to give her attitude.
"Only you - fuck! Only you can make me feel like this"
Abby chuckles
"Oh, I know, sweet thing. Now cum for me"
Your orgasm is blinding and loud. So much so that you don't even hear the front door open from downstairs. Nor do you hear the footsteps that follow, too occupied with rutting yourself onto her fingers, gushing with each snap of your hips. Abby is just as oblivious, lifting up from her place between your thighs to crash her lips onto yours, too focused on wanting you to taste yourself on her tongue to even notice the jingling office door doorknob.
It's only when you both hear the old door begin slowly creaking open that your attention is snatched from one another, expressions shifting from ones of lust and satisfaction to pure horror as you both make eye contact with the twisted-up, angry face of the man you had just slandered aloud. Your husband. Back home early from work
Shit.
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Thanks for reading ☆ Reblogs appreciated
Taglist: @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery
225 notes · View notes
verstappen-cult · 8 hours
Note
Maybe a lestappen fic were Reader friends are the worst and they comfort her, thank you 💗
You were out with your boyfriends when you saw them across the street, walking out of a shop, talking and laughing without a care. You had texted them yesterday to ask if they were free today to hang out, since you haven’t seen them in a few weeks. The answer? I have to work. I’ll be out of town. I’m sick, just numerous excuses.
Max noticed the change in your demeanor in an instant. “What’s wrong, love?” 
“Oh, I just remember that I need to call mom, or she’ll get mad.” You smile, not wanting to worry him. 
“You can call her once we get home.” He kisses your forehead and holds your hand to keep walking. 
Being around them was enough to make you forget about what you saw and you actually ended up enjoying the day off. 
Until Charles decided that it was time to eat and walked into one of your favorite restaurants in town. A very exclusive but cozy one.
The host just gave your boyfriends a look and it was enough for her to rush to get you three a table. 
“Aren’t those your friends?” Charles asks you, looking behind your shoulders. 
You didn’t want to look but you also didn’t want them to know what happened. So, you simply turned around with a forced smile. 
“Oh, yes! What a coincidence.” 
“You can say hello to them,” Max gives you a little pat on your lower back, encouraging you to go to them. “We will wait for you.” 
You chew on the inside of your cheek before walking towards them. 
You notice the exact moment they see you, because they go from laughing to a complete silence. 
“Hey!” You try not to show how affected you are, how much you want to cry. “I thought you were busy today.” 
One of your friends gives you a once over before leaning closer to one of your other friends and whispering something before laughing.
They don’t even try to pretend. 
“Yeah. This was something last minute.” One girl says, taking a sip of her drink. “We forgot to tell you.” 
“Are you following us?” One of your male friends says, not hiding his smirk at all.
“Oh, no, I’m—” 
“Because that’s sad.” 
One of your friends, one you thought was someone you could trust, bursts out laughing before saying, “Even for you.”
You’re one second away from crying now, so you decide to excuse yourself and walk away, not hungry anymore and just wanting to go home. But Max and Charles are by your side in one second and you’re unable to do so. 
“Max, Charles!” 
Everyone’s expression changes just like it changed when you approached their table. The difference is that this time they’re all smiling, sparkling eyes looking up at them as if you are not even there, standing between them. As if you are invisible.
“Are you waiting for a table?”
“You can sit with us. We can make space for you!” 
It’s laughable, really. 
Charles looks at you, his hand on your waist. “You want to sit here, chéri?”
You avoid looking at your “friends” and Max notices immediately. 
“We just came for take out,” Max explains, a friendly smile on his lips. “she just wanted her favorite dessert and we can’t say no to her.”
Everyone on the table laughs. But it’s forced, anyone would notice. 
“Well, we should plan something, then.” A blonde girl you have never seen before says. She’s twirling her hair and everything, and you would feel disgusted if it weren’t for the situation you’re currently in. 
Max holds your hand, rubbing circles on your palm. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
Silence. 
A beat. 
And then.
“Some friends you are.”
You are out of the restaurant in ten minutes. Charles carries some take out while Max doesn’t let your hand go, at least not until you’re in front of the car. 
“Are you okay?” Max cups your cheeks, and you finally let the tears fall. 
“We noticed things were weird when you stood in front of their table.” Your Monégasque boyfriend says, his free hand rubbing your back. “We just didn’t realize how bad it was until we heard them.”
“How long has this been happening?”
You sniff, feeling the pad of Max’s fingers wiping the tears off your face. 
“Now that I’m thinking about it,” You laugh, closing your eyes, thinking about how stupid and blind you were. “it has been this way since… forever.”
“Oh, baby.” Charles wraps you in his arms, Max joining the hug without a second thought. 
“You should have told us.” Max whispers in your ear, and you nod because he is right. “We could’ve done something.”
Charles rolls his eyes, giving his boyfriend a little push. “You don't need them, okay?”
“You are an incredible,” Max kisses your cheek, “and amazing person.”
“Most beautiful girl in the world.” Charles kisses your other cheek. 
Your Dutch boyfriend gives you a little peck on the lips before pulling away to look directly into your eyes. “Anyone would be lucky to have you in their lives.”
“Their loss.” You groan against Charles’ shoulder. 
“That’s my girl!” They laugh and you feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders.
“Now,” The blonde-haired boy says, opening the car door for you. “Should we go home to eat in bed while we watch some movie?”
“Can we watch Cars?” 
“Charles, she will choose the movie!”
“But she loves Cars too!”
309 notes · View notes
harunayuuka2060 · 3 days
Text
Leal: Master Akihiko.
Akihiko: ...
Akihiko: What is his reply?
Leal: ...
Leal: He will cooperate.
Akihiko: ...
Akihiko: *smiles*
Akihiko: See? I told you, Leal.
Leal: *smiles* *but then his expression becomes serious* However, your father wants to have a conversation with you.
Akihiko: Set a date.
Leal: *bows to him* Yes, Master Akihiko.
Yuurin's mother: Dear, can you help me recall what Yuurin used to be like when he was younger?
Yuurin's father: Of course, dear. Where do you want to start?
Yuurin's mother: From when he was born.
Yuurin's father: Hmm... Ah, do you remember how he frowned when the doctor held him?
Yuurin's mother: Did he? *chuckles*
Yuurin's father: Yes. You were afraid that he would grow up having an attitude.
Yuurin's mother: Indeed. But he grew up as a fine gentleman. *as she writes in the journal*
Yuurin's father: ...
Leal: We can assure you that nothing will happen to the madame.
Leal: That's why, I beg you, sir.
Leal: Help us to set Lady Yuurin free.
Yuurin: ...
Yuurin: Ruggie-senpai, what do you think?
Ruggie: Hmm... I think your hair has become fluffier.
Yuurin: Is that a good thing?
Ruggie: Why, of course!
Yuurin: ...
Yuurin: Do I look more feminine now?
Ruggie: Yep! *grins and gives her a thumbs up*
Ruggie: Oh! Shishishi! Yuurin, are you interested in trying hair glitter?
Yuurin: Hair glitter?
Ruggie: Yes! It will make your hair sparkle like the stars in the night sky!
Leona: ...
Leona: *pulls out his phone and then takes a picture of Yuurin*
Yuurin: ???
Leona: You look too cute. I'm sending this to Aki. *then walks away*
Yuurin: ...
Rook: Monsieur Tranquille! Today, you exude such captivating loveliness!
Vil: I agree, though I feel that whoever did your hair just dumped the whole bottle of hair glitter.
Yuurin: Ruggie-senpai did.
Vil: ...
Vil: Alright. I'll be the one styling your hair from now on.
Yuurin: You don't have to, Vil-senpai-
Vil: I insist.
Yuurin: ...
Lilia: Ooh~ Is that Yuurin?
Silver: Hm? Something's different about him.
Lilia: What do you mean?
Silver: He looks dreamy.
Lilia: ...
Silver: Ah, it might be because of his hair.
Lilia: ...
Lilia: *smirks* Silver, why not go ahead and compliment him directly?
Silver: Huh?
Lilia: *chuckles* Just go! *pushing Silver*
Silver: Good afternoon, Yuurin.
Yuurin: Good afternoon, Silver-senpai.
Silver: You look dreamy today.
Yuurin: Thank you, Silver-senpai.
Silver: That's all I wanted to say.
Lilia: *appears* Huh?! What do you mean 'that's all you wanted to say'?
Silver: Fathe- I mean, Lilia-senpai, what's wrong?
Lilia: Yuurin, you see... *smirks*
Lilia: When Silver saw how cute you looked, he couldn't help but want to take a photo together.
Silver: No, I didn't-
Lilia: You wouldn't mind, right? Okay! Silver, go stand next to him.
Silver: *confused but followed anyway*
Lilia: Fufu~
Yuurin and Silver: ...
Lilia: *frowns* Silver, put your arm around Yuurin's shoulder.
Silver: Um, like this?
Lilia: And Yuurin, please put your arm around his waist.
Yuurin: Like this, Lilia-senpai?
Lilia: Fufu~ Yes. That's perfect.
Yuurin and Silver: ...
Malleus and Sebek: ...
Malleus: What is this, Lilia? *seeing the photo of Yuurin and Silver displayed at their dorm's lounge*
Lilia: Don't they look adorable~?
Malleus: Yes, they do-
Sebek: AAAHHH!!!!
Lilia and Malleus: ...
Lilia: Sebek?
Sebek: M-My apologies, Lilia-sama.
Malleus: ...
Malleus: *smirks* Sebek, are you jealous?
Sebek: N-No, Waka-sama!
384 notes · View notes
starsinthesky5 · 3 days
Text
the alchemy || joe burrow x reader
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description: why fight a feeling that is so strong? sometimes things are meant to be and you should let things fall into place. the transformation of something dull and broken into gold is hard to ignore, and you shouldn’t ignore it :)
a/n: another request! i love this song soo much so i hope you all enjoy! for the purposes of this fic, this takes place after their first superbowl appearance and after joe sprains his mcl. 
also another flashback heavy fic because of the song 🤍
warnings: language, angst, allusions to sex
word count: 10k (dang she’s a long one) 
————————————————————
Have you ever experienced something that happens once every few lifetimes? When those chemicals just hit you like white wine and make you drunk on the feeling. The feeling you get when you’re with the right person, that unbreakable connection, that intense and passionate love? That’s what you feel with Joe. Anyone in your position would hang onto that for as long as they could, and never let go. And you were, but something scared you and caused you to pull away. 
Flashback to a few weeks ago 
You and Joe were lying on the couch, wrapped up in each other’s arms, and watching a movie. You were wearing one of his hoodies and leaning against his chest. His arm was wrapped around your shoulder and your head was tucked under it. You guys were having some downtime together and were trying to squeeze in as much as you could before the football season started in a few weeks.
You looked up at him and saw the content look on his face, and it was all because of you. He looked comfortable for the first time in a long time. A lot was riding on this season, and Joe was a little overwhelmed with everything going on, but you were there to help him every step of the way. 
“How ya feeling?” You asked your boyfriend.
He looked down at you and smiled, “I feel amazing. A lot better than I have these past few months,”.
You looked into his compelling eyes and could tell he was being truthful. He’d been struggling these past few months with his knee sprain, going to the Superbowl and losing, plus trying to get back to where he was before while trying to block out the outside noise. It had been a rough off-season for him, but one of the highlights had been meeting you early on. 
You and Joe had met right after the Super Bowl through mutual friends. When you first met, there was an instant connection, emotionally and physically. It was like pure electricity and heat between you two, something you hadn’t experienced in a while. No matter how hard you tried to deny it and run from it, you couldn’t. 
“That’s really great, Joe. I’m so proud of you for pushing through,” you grinned. 
“I owe it to you. You really helped me pull through all this these past few months. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, his hand moving to your cheek.
“Joe,” you said while placing your hand on top of his, wanting to tell him that he got to where he is right now because of his own hard work and dedication. You were just a silent observer to his greatness. 
“You’ve done so much for me. These past few months have been a dream. Getting to spend all this time with you has literally been the biggest blessing and a huge reminder that things don’t always have to be so complicated,” he says before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your soft pink lips. 
Your relationship with Joe felt pretty easy and relaxed, which was different for you since your previous relationships felt the complete opposite. You were his sanctuary and he was your light at the end of the dark tunnel. 
You lean into the kiss for a few seconds before he pulls away. He searches your eyes for a few moments, “I love you,” he says against your lips. It felt like the word stopped and you got punched in the gut when he said those three words. You hadn’t heard those three words in a very long time, and the last person who said those words to you absolutely destroyed you. You had had a few relationships throughout your life, each one worse than the other and it crushed you every time it ended. Your first serious relationship ended because the guy fell out of love. Your next relationship ended because the guy had feelings for someone else. And your last relationship, your longest, ended because he cheated on you multiple times and tried to make it seem like it was your fault, and that was the final blow. He used those three words against you every time, and now those three words came out of Joe’s mouth. 
He noticed your startled facial expression and immediately pulled back. “Are you okay?” He asked.
You were frozen. You didn’t know what to say or how to respond to him. It’s not that you didn’t love him, it’s just you were scared that it would happen to you again, and you wouldn’t be able to make it to the other side this time. You fell hard and fast for Joe, meaning if anything happened, it would shatter you beyond the point of return. 
“I’m fine,” you lie while moving out of his arms. 
“No, you’re not, I can see it. I just screwed things up didn’t I?” He said as he grabbed your hand. His face sported a worried and nervous look.
“No no no, you didn’t. I did,” you say, your heart racing and your face burning. “I can’t say it back,” you whisper as tears fill your eyes. 
Joe stayed silent for a few moments as he collected his thoughts. He loved you so much and knew why you couldn’t say it back. It broke his heart that you were scared to say it back. He knew you cared for him and your relationship was going amazingly, but he still tried to do everything he could to make you forget about the others before him. He was trying to undo the damage they had done. 
“Y/N-”,
“You deserve to have those three words said to you and I just can’t say it back. You are the most lovable, caring, and thoughtful human I have ever met, and I can’t even say it back?” You say as hot tears slide down your cheeks, feeling absolutely shitty that you were putting him in this position. 
“Y/N, listen to me”, he says as he grabs your hands to calm you down. “I don’t care if you can’t say it back right now. I know it’s not easy for you,”.
“But you should care,”.
“But I don’t. I know why you can’t and it’s okay. If you need time, I’m here. I can wait. I will wait,” he soothes. 
Your heart broke at the situation. You felt horrible for not being able to say those 3 words to him even though you felt those feelings towards him. He was willing to wait for you, but was he really? Joe could have anyone he wanted, so would he wait for you to make up your mind when he could just move to the next girl? You needed a minute to get yourself together, he didn’t deserve this, especially right before the start of the season. 
“I- I just need a minute. I’m so sorry. I’ll text you, but I just need a minute from this,” you said as you got off the couch, collecting your things so you could leave. 
Joe gets up, the look on his face makes you want to cry even harder. He lets out a sigh, “That’s okay, I understand. When you’re ready, I’m here,” he says. 
You give him a little smile as you pull him in for a hug before walking to the door and leaving his house. 
End of flashback 
The sounds of football reporters from the TV snapped you back to the present. It was currently Game Day, week 1 to be specific, and you were watching from your couch in your apartment. You should be watching from the Burrow Suite, just like how you and Joe talked about all off-season, but you weren’t, and it broke your heart.
It had been a few weeks since you had seen him, you were constantly replaying the horrible conversation in your head and feeling worse each time. He had texted you a few times to check in, but that was about it. You asked for space and he was giving it to you and you didn’t want to cause any more distress to him, especially since week 1 was right around the corner. You didn’t know how he was feeling, what he was doing, or who he was with. It was driving you insane, but you didn’t need to be filling his space with your mess right now. 
You watched the TV carefully as the camera moved back down onto the field, and closer to Joe. He was sitting on the bench in his pre-game gear, seemingly lost in thought as he stared off into space. He turned around and looked up for a few seconds, and that sight alone made your eyes well with tears again. 
You knew exactly what he was looking at and who he was looking for. You. He was looking for you in the suite. And here you were, sitting on the couch, alone, while you were supposed to be cheering him on in person. You wiped your eyes and took a few deep breaths. You didn’t want to distract him with your drama, so you understood that this needed to happen. He had to be laser-focused and you were being a distraction. 
And he was laser-focused. The Bengals won their first game of the season, 35-17, and Joe absolutely killed it. He didn’t miss a beat and the team was on fire from start to finish. The big smile on his face in his on-field interview calms you down and his post-game presser reassures you that he is doing good, at least for right now. 
A few hours later, you were lost in your thoughts. You were pondering whether or not you should send him a text about how great he did in the game. Was it stupid to text him? Did he even care? What if another girl was with him right now doing what you would be doing with him after his game? 
“Fuck it,” you mumbled while typing up a little message. 
Hey! Watched the game today and you killed it!!! Didn’t miss a single beat, so proud of you! 
Remember to elevate your leg with a cushion in case your knee feels a bit off. And also ice it, I think the ice wrap is in the freezer :))
You knew that his knee would probably be a little sore after today's game just like it would be after practice. You had discovered that throughout the off-season after he’d come over to your place after practice every day. You would be the one to help soothe any discomfort he had but since you weren’t there, you had to remind him. 
Flashback to June 
You were finishing up a project for work until you heard a soft knock on your apartment door. You looked over to the clock which read 3:30, meaning it was probably Joe since he would come over after practice wrapped up for the day. He would usually come over every Wednesday and Friday and sometimes stay the night or end up going back to his house pretty late. When he first started to do this, you asked him if it was too tiring for him since you figured he’d be able to fully unwind and decompress more in the comfort of his own home. But he told you that being with you was his way of relaxing and decompressing. 
You hopped off of the barstool and turned off the stove before walking over to the door to let him in. You made some spicy chicken and rice, seasoning everything just as he liked it. 
You opened the door and Joe immediately leaped onto you, pulling you in for an intimate hug. 
“Hello to you too,” you giggle as you wrap your arms around his large frame. 
He lets out a laugh as you lead him back into your apartment, still hugging each other. He uses his foot to kick the door shut and pulls you in closer. 
“You’re extra clingy today,” you laugh as you rub his back.
“Mmm, I missed you,” he mumbled against your head, pressing a delicate kiss onto your hair. 
“Me too,” you said as you stood on your toes so you could press a kiss to his cheek. You pulled away from each other after a few more moments of being in each other’s arms and Joe’s nose wiggled as a smirk appeared on his face. 
“You made my favorite,” he said, immediately recognizing the mouthwatering aroma. 
“That I did,” you giggled. “Here, come sit on the couch. You’re probably sore and exhausted,”.
“Ooo, do I get treatment from my sexy nurse today?” He teased as he walked over and collapsed on the couch. 
“If sweatpants and an old ass tank top from high school are sexy, then yes,” You grin while moving the cushions to help him elevate his knee. 
He stares at you while you help him get cozy, “You don’t have to do all this,”.
“Since you demand to come over after practice, the least I can do is help you get comfy. Don’t want your knee to act up because you didn’t take care of yourself just because you were with me,” you say while moving his leg over to the cushions. 
“Does it feel weird?” You look up and ask. 
He lets out a sigh, “Yeah, a little,”.
“I’ll grab the ice wrap,” you say as you walk over to the freezer.
“Yes, Ms. Nurse,” he salutes before grabbing the TV remote to turn on an episode of The Office.
“Really funny, Joe,” you say. 
A few minutes later, you wrap his knee in the ice wrap and curl up next to him on your couch, your head tucked under his strong arm and his hand sliding up and down your arm. You were playing with the strings of his hoodie and asked, “How was practice?”.
“It was good. I’m feeling and moving a lot better and the knee isn’t so bad. The soreness and weirdness will probably linger for a little bit so I’ll just have to put up with it,”.
“Good thing we got a routine down for taking care of it,” you smile.
“All thanks to you,” he says as he shakes your shoulder. 
“You give me too much credit,”.
“Mmm no I don’t. You know exactly what works and what doesn’t work. But I think the biggest remedy is you. You make my life and evenings after practice so much more relaxing. Best medicine and treatment by far,” he says as he looks down into your eyes.
You stare into his baby blues for a few moments before leaning in and capturing his lips in a tender kiss. 
“You’re too much, Burrow,” you laugh as you pull away. 
“But you can handle me so I can’t be thaaat much,” he smirks.
“What’s with the smirk,” you giggle.
“It’s just that you can handle me in more ways than one,” he says as he moves you into his lap, straddling his hips and chest pressed against his warm skin. 
“Dirty, Dirty Mind,” you say as you shake your head. “But you are right, I can handle you in every way possible. Never too much,” you say as you lean back in for another kiss. 
End of flashback 
You let out a deep breath and quickly turned your phone off so you would stop thinking about it. He probably wouldn’t even answer until tomorrow so why bother thinking about it? You got up off the couch and walked into your kitchen to heat up some leftover pasta and heard a chime come from the living room. You whipped your head around and saw your phone light up. Your eyes widened and you ran back over to the couch to check what it was.  
Thank You! And thanks for the reminder. I already have the knee wrapped and my leg elevated. I’m glad you decided to watch. I was hoping you’d make it to the game but I get it  
Your shoulders dropped at his text. He wanted you there and you let him down. You didn’t know how to respond to him because you didn’t want to make it worse, so you just decided to send a white heart emoji and turn your phone off. 
You moved back onto the couch and fell back into the pillows. A loud exhale escapes your mouth, “What is wrong with me,” you say to yourself.
A few weeks later 
It had been a few weeks since the first game of the season. It was currently week 6 and you still hadn’t seen Joe or really talked to him. The Bengals were 2-3 and you knew that was killing Joe and you wanted nothing more than to reassure him that it was going to get better. Like clockwork, the analysts began their ‘is Burrow really as good as people think he is?’ agenda just because he had a few bad games. 
To help take your mind off of things, Jess had invited you out for lunch so you were getting ready for that. You were putting on your last bit of jewelry when one of your necklaces on your stand caught your eye. It was the infinity necklace Joe had gifted you for your birthday a few months ago. 
Flashback to your birthday (August)
“And here is the last birthday gift,” Joe says as he places a tiny box in your lap. 
“Are you sure it’s the last one?” You giggle. 
He raises his brow and gives you a look that immediately shuts you up. He had surprised you with quite a few gifts today and many of them were very expensive looking. Each time you told him you didn’t need or want anything, but he clearly had a different idea. 
“Okay, Okay,” you retreat, causing him to let out a laugh. 
His arm wraps around your shoulder as you open the box. Inside the box was a beautiful diamond infinity necklace. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open, “Joe, this is so beautiful,” you say as you examine the gorgeous diamonds.
“Only the best for my girl,” he smiles as he squeezes your shoulder. 
“You didn’t have to do all this. This must’ve been so expensive,”.
“So what? It’s your birthday and I think this infinity symbol really resonates with how I feel about you,” he says as he picks up the necklace out of the box. “Here, turn around so I can put it on,”. 
You turn around and move your hair out of the way. The smile on your face says enough about your emotions. Butterflies filled your belly and your heart was overflowing with adoration. He was so good to you and always made sure you felt valued by him, and he would do anything to show you and seemingly wanted to show you that forever. Infinity. He wanted to be with you for infinity. 
End of flashback 
You stared at the necklace for a few moments. You hadn’t worn it since the day you freaked out on Joe but you looked at it every day. A silent reminder that he does value you and he does care, but moreover, he adores you. But you couldn’t understand why you couldn’t show him the same love he gave you. 
You grabbed the necklace, not overthinking it, and put it around your neck. You then grabbed your stuff and left your apartment so you wouldn’t have time to reconsider wearing it. 
A few hours later 
“So she told me she couldn’t go because she spilled Juice all over her dress but I think it was because she didn’t want to be around Becca since she started dating her exes best friend,” Jess says as she takes a sip of her lemonade.
“Man, your college friends are really something,” you laugh as you take a bite of your salad. 
“Tell me about it,” she smiles.
“So, what’s going on with you and Joe?” She asks straight up. “I see that you’re wearing the necklace,” she points out. 
Your smile drops a bit as you take a deep breath. You knew you’d have to talk about it at some point and you really needed to talk about it to someone who you could confide in. Jess was the perfect person. You and her immediately clicked when you first met at a team dinner back in the off-season and have been great friends ever since. 
“I don’t know. He told me he loved me and I couldn’t say it back,” you frowned. “And as for the necklace, I don’t really know why I put it on today,”. 
“Oh, Y/N,” she says as she reaches for your hand. 
“I want to say it back but I’m scared. Joe has the ability to rip me to shreds if things go south and I can’t go through that again. Not after what happened in my last relationship. He’s so perfect and that worries me,” you say.
“Joe isn’t like the others,” Jess says.
“I know, and that’s why I’m confused. I don’t know why I’m being like this. He hasn’t given me a single reason to be this fearful. And I honestly don’t understand why he’s putting up with this. He’s probably better off forgetting about me and moving on with some other girl,”.
“Are you crazy?” She questioned. “Joe hasn’t stopped asking me about you. Every time I see him at the game he’s always asking about you and if you’re doing alright,” she giggles.
“Really?” You say, a little shocked that he thought about you that much, especially on game day. 
“Yes, really. Y/N, he loves you. I’ve known Joe for a very long time and I’ve never seen him like this. He’s never been this in love with someone before. You’re special. You bring out the absolute best in him and he does the same for you,”. 
“And you're saying there isn’t anyone else that he’ll just go to after he gets bored with me?” You ask.
“Nope. Never was and never will be. You’re the one to beat. You stole his heart. He’s never going to get bored when he has someone special like you in his life,” she winks. 
“I think you’re just afraid of getting your heart broken again, and that’s fair. You’ve been through a lot and it can’t be easy to get into it again after going through a really tough and long relationship. But as your friend and as Joe’s friend, you owe it to him and yourself to try. He cares about you more than he cares about anyone, and that says a lot,”.
“The way Joe spent all those months in the off-season trying to win you over was unlike anything we’ve ever seen him do,”
Flashback to March 
“He’s here?” you say to Jenna, wide-eyed and slightly nervous. 
“Yeah, Dylan invited him,” She giggled. “Be prepared for another round of flirting, he is relentless,”. 
Today was your friend Jenna’s birthday dinner. You had become friends at the end of last year when your job transferred you to the Cincinnati branch, and you instantly hit it off and became close friends in a short amount of time. She introduced you to all her friends and you became a part of their big group and that also meant becoming friends with her fiancee’s friends. They were all great and super friendly, except one of them was a bit too friendly with you. It was none other than the Bengals Quarterback, Joe Burrow. He and Dylan went to OSU together and were a part of the football program there and have kept in touch ever since, so you shouldn’t have been surprised when he walked into your friend’s dinner. 
“He just never stops. Like 2 weeks ago when we all went to Dinner for Jess’s birthday, he was stuck to my side the entire time,” you said to her. 
“What did I tell you? He likes you, Y/N,” she laughed as she sipped her drink. 
“Yeah right. I know how these football players roll and I am not about to get caught up in that mess and get my heart broken all in one go,” you say as you watch him closely. Joe had taken a particular interest in you ever since you had met in February. You weren’t exactly sure why, but every time you would see him, he would end up stuck to your side the entire time. He would constantly talk to you, literally never shutting up. He would make little comments about how pretty you looked and how you were the nicest person he had ever met. You had a lot of things in common such as your music taste, your favorite movies, your small-town upbringing, and even your childlike tendencies such as playing Mario Kart & Smash Bros religiously at your grown age. Just the usual flirting but you were not buying into it. Sure, you would play into it and flirt back, but you had 0 intentions of actually starting something with him out of all people. 
Each time you saw him, each time he would try to get you to hang out with him, just the two of you. Whether it was him suggesting that you two watch a movie at his place, go out to a new restaurant, or do anything you wanted to do, you always shut him down. Partly because you had your guard up around him for various reasons, but also because you didn’t think he actually liked you. You thought he just wanted to hook up and become casual fuck buddies like a typical football player, but you had no idea that those were not his intentions at all. 
Joe really did like you and was doing anything to get you to give him a chance. He hadn’t felt this way about a girl in a very long time, and he was set on winning you over by any means necessary. You felt a little bad watching him struggle with you each time, but you were silently enjoying it. Something about having a star QB wrapped around your finger was amusing. 
“I won’t lie, it is kinda fun to watch him attempt to make a move every time we see each other,” you laugh as you continue to stare at him. Although you didn’t want any part of him, he did look absolutely sexy. You would be lying to yourself if you said he wasn’t the most attractive man you had ever seen in your life. 
“I give it a few months. You’ll be wrapped up in his arms,” Jenna says as she waves Joe over. He ends his conversation with a friend and starts walking over, a smile creeps up onto his face when he notices you sitting at the table.
You whip your head over to face her as you see him start to walk over, “What are you doing?” you say as you try not to act rude. 
“You’ll thank me for this in a few months,” she winks as she gets up from her chair, greeting Joe, and then walking over to Dylan, Sam, and Jess. 
You took a few deep breaths as you watched him sit down right next to you. “Here we go again,” you thought to yourself.
“Hey, Y/N,” he says, flashing his gorgeous smile to you. 
“Hi, Joe,” you smile back. 
“You look really pretty tonight,” he says as he takes a sip of his drink.
“Thank you,” you say back, hardly putting any effort into the conversation. 
You both find yourself in some awkward silence for a few moments before Joe speaks up once again. “Soo, What have you been up to?”.
“Oh, nothing much. Just the usual,” you say as you play with the rings on your fingers. 
“Cool, Cool,” he nods, the smile on his face slowly fading away. 
“So Um, have you given my dinner offer any thought since the last time we saw each other?” he asked, referring to when he asked you if you wanted to get dinner with him at this new sushi place downtown that he had been dying to go to. 
“Yeah,” you sigh. “Sorry, but I’m swamped with work for a while, don’t think I’ll have any time,” you lied, fully expecting him to keep pushing you for it like he usually does. It kinda was like a game of cat and mouse. You kept running away and he kept chasing, never being able to catch you, but also never giving up. 
He stays quiet for a few seconds as you watch his head drop and the grip on his drink tighten. He would normally start the playful banter by now but he hadn’t, which was odd. 
“See, I just don’t get it,” he said, looking back up at you, his usually joy-filled eyes now empty. 
“Get what?” you ask him, sitting up in your seat.
“You. I don’t get you. Ever since we met, you’ve been giving me mixed signals. I thought we had something going on here since you were very clearly flirting back, but every fucking time I try to move to the next step, you dodge me like the plague. I don’t get it. Did I do something wrong?” he said. 
“Joe, I-” you said, not knowing what to say to him. You felt horrible but he was right. You were sending him mixed signals but you thought he was having fun as well. Truth was, you weren’t dodging him, deep down you knew he was a good person and you actually enjoyed his company, you were just dodging the idea of dating and being in a relationship again. You just struggled with the idea of opening up to a person like that again, especially since the last time you did, it was used against you. And you were taking it out on Joe. 
“What? Literally, what could you possibly have to say?” he asks, his face turning a little red but his voice remaining leveled. Even though he was upset, he made sure not to raise his voice.  
You felt like throwing up in the moment because you felt awful for making him feel like this. The silence in between was enough of a response for him to get up. “Yeah, I figured. I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry if something about me makes you want to run in the opposite direction,” he says as he turns around and walks back over to your friends who had just watched all this unfold. 
You just sat there in silence, feeling shitty for making him feel like he was the problem when in reality, it was you. You got up and walked to the bathroom, trying to escape the now awkward ambiance and also compose yourself. 
“What was that about?” Jess asked Joe when he walked over to them. 
He shook his head and took a few deep breaths before saying, “I don’t know. I thought she liked me too but every single time I try to make a move, she shuts me down,”. “I don’t know what the fuck I did,”. 
“Joe, you didn’t do anything,” Jenna said. 
“Then why is she acting like this? When we first met, everything was going well. We had good conversations, she could be around me without looking like she had to throw up, and now? Now she won’t even hold a conversation with me,” he said. 
“It’s because she’s scared of getting her heart broken again. All her exes were absolute assholes, each one worse than the other. Her last one really did a number on her but that’s not my story to tell. Just know, it was bad,” Jenna said.
“Jenna’s right. It is not your fault at all. I think deep down, she likes you too but is scared to admit it,” Jess added. “She always looks relaxed with you and seems like she always is having fun,”. 
“I just wish she would give me a chance. It feels like I hit a brick wall with her and shit is not moving,” Joe says, rubbing the back of his neck. 
“Well, don’t give up man. I know you and you definitely don’t back down from a challenge,” Dylan says, patting his back.
“Yup. She’ll come around,” Sam says. 
“You just have to show her that you really really care about her. I know her and I know that once she sees how sincere you are about this, she’ll come through,” Jenna says. 
“You didn’t hear this from me, but Y/N loves cliche romantic gestures. Specifically handwritten love letters,” Jess winks. 
“Ooo, nothing more romantic than a love letter,” Jenna says while looking over to see if you have come back from the bathroom. 
“A love letter? Do I look like Romeo,” Joe scoffs. Seriously, a love letter? Joe could barely write out a sincere birthday message for his friends and family and they expect him to write a love letter?
“Listen, if you really wanna get the girl, try one more time,” Jess encourages. 
He thinks about it for a few seconds before giving in. This had to work. If you really liked gestures like this, Joe was going to make sure it was the best damn thing that’s ever happened to you.“This better work,” He says. 
“Just don’t feel bad Joe. She just needs to see that you really want this and I think this just might do it,” Jenna says.
“Yeah, I Hope so,” Joe says as he glances over to where you were sitting, the seat now empty. “I’m gonna go get some air,” he says to your friends as he walks out to the entrance of the restaurant.
They were right. Joe never backed down from a challenge and he really wanted you. He was going to do whatever it took to win you over, even if that meant doing something he would never think to do in a million years. 
“I’ve never seen Joe like this before,” Sam says to everyone after Joe walks away.
“Tell me about it. She has him wrapped around her finger and I really hope she doesn’t pass on this,” Jess says.
“They’re perfect for each other. She just needs to see it and hopefully this will do it,” Jenna says as you walk back out to the dining room.
A few days later 
It had been a few days since Jenna’s birthday dinner. You had managed to avoid Joe the entire night but still felt guilty at the fact that you had been so terrible to him for reasons out of his control. 
You were sitting on your couch reading one of your favorite romance novels. Everything was always so perfect in the books. The girl always got the boy and everything was so romantic and beautiful. When was it going to be your turn? When would you be able to feel like the girls in the books? A knock on your door snapped you out of your thoughts, “Hm?” You questioned since you weren’t expecting anyone. 
You walked over to the door, opened it, and then were met with a large flower arrangement, no human in sight. 
“What the hell,” you said to yourself as you crouched down to pick up the beautiful flowers, which happened to be your favorite, pink roses. 
You kicked the door shut with your foot as you walked over to the kitchen island. “Who are these from?” You asked yourself. You searched the flowers for a card and found one tucked into the bottom of the pot. 
You pulled over a barstool and sat down before you opened up the envelope. A little note was folded inside. You carefully pulled the paper out and opened it up to read it. You tilted your head out of confusion. The note was handwritten and the handwriting looked a little familiar. 
Dear Y/N,
I don’t really know how to do this, but please don’t think this is cringey or corny. I think I’ve rewritten this letter like 5 times now so I'm really trying to make this work. Anyways, I feel awful for the way I handled things the other day and I know you’re probably sick of me but I just can’t ignore these feelings anymore. 
From the moment I saw you, I knew there was something special about you—something that drew me in and captivated my heart. You’re a very special girl and you deserve all the happiness in the world, and I hope that I can be a part of that. I know it’s only been a short amount of time since we’ve met but every time I see you, I’m reminded that you’re not just something I dreamed about. You’re real and you’re here. And I want to be with you. 
Your smile lights up my world and your laughter is like music to my ears. Every time you walk into a room, my heart skips a beat and I find myself completely enchanted by your presence. You are the most beautiful person I have ever known, both inside and out. 
I find myself constantly thinking about you, day and night, dreaming of the day when I can finally tell you how much you mean to me. Your kindness, your intelligence, your sense of humor - all of these things make me fall for you more and more with each passing day. 
I know that I might just be a small blip on your radar, but I couldn't let another day go by without expressing my feelings for you. I know that this is hard for you, but I really hope you’ll give me a chance to show you that I’m different, and that we can be different. 
Sending my love, 
Joe. 
You felt hot tears streaming down your cheeks and onto the countertop, as you finished reading the letter. Nobody had ever written you a love letter before even though it was something you would constantly dream about and mention indirectly to your ex-lovers. None of them got the hint that this was something you wanted. But here you were, reading a love letter from a guy who didn’t even know about your silly little dream but somehow made it come true. 
He really cared about you and he wasn’t playing around. The contents of the letter had made his feelings about you incredibly clear and opened up your eyes to what you were missing out on. He was such a sweet, kind-hearted, and gentle person and you had him right at your fingertips. And you were about to push him away for good. 
You wiped your tears as you pulled out your phone from your pocket, pulling up Joe’s contact and hitting the call button. You prayed he would pick up, and he did.
“Hello?” He said, slightly breathless as he was in the middle of working out.  
“You’re an idiot,” you laughed through the tears. 
“Y/N?” He asked. 
“Yes, it’s me,” you sniffled. He remained quiet on the other end so you took it as a chance to finally reciprocate the feelings he had for you. 
“I got your letter and flowers,” you smiled.
“Yeah?” He asked, putting his dumbbell down and sitting on the workout bench. His stomach was in knots as he was anxious about what your response would be.
“Are you free tonight? I heard that the new sushi place downtown is to die for,” you giggled as you twirled your hair.
Joe’s face immediately lit up and his heart was about to beat out of his chest. He stayed silent for a few seconds to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, and he sure as hell wasn’t.  “Yeah, I am. I’ll pick you up in an hour,” he says.
“It’s a date,” you say, biting your bottom lip, your stomach filled with butterflies and anticipation. It was finally your chance to get the boy.
After weeks of waiting and trying, Joe had finally won you over. He had finally won the trophy and ultimate prize which was you.
End of flashback 
Nobody had played the field for you like Joe had. You were pretty unlucky when it came to relationships but when you met Joe, everyone who was attempting to play the field just ended up warming the bench. He never gave anyone else a moment to try to win you over. Throughout the off-season, he was doing just about everything to win your heart and he was killing it. You were on a winning streak, up until you ruined it with your childish fears. 
“I just- I haven’t felt the way I feel with him in a long time and that scares the hell out of me. The last time I felt that way, I was so blinded by it and it got the best of me,” you replied, your stomach churning at the mention of your last relationship. 
“I understand that. But not every guy is going to take advantage of your love. Even though I’ve known you for a few months, I can see that you have so much love inside of you. I can see the love in your eyes for him. Don’t let your past get in the way of something promising and special,” she told you.
“You tell me something new he does for you and a new funny story about him literally every time I see you. You always have this radiant smile when you’re around him and this look in your eyes that most people would say only is seen in someone once every few lifetimes,” Jess adds as she points at your necklace.
“Like look at that. He basically told you it was you and him for infinity. He’s not going anywhere, trust me,” she laughs. “Don’t fight it,”. 
You take another deep breath and think about what she’s saying. She’s right. You and Joe had been together for 6 months and in those 6 months he never made you feel bad about yourself, he never made you feel neglected, and he definitely never made you feel unloved. He was different from everyone else and you loved him so much. It wasn’t his fault that the others hurt you so badly and you owed it to him to try. 
He was what you had been waiting for your entire life and now that you’d finally had it, you were so close to ruining it. He wasn’t like the others, not one bit. You loved everything about him and he loved everything about you. He showed you what real love felt like, and taught you how to love again. She was right, why should you fight it? You had struck gold with Joe. 
“I love him,” you realize, a smile creeping up your face. 
“There we go,” she says as she claps her hands together and falls back into the chair. 
“I really love him,” you repeat, wanting to scream it at the top of your lungs. 
“And I’m sure he would be incredibly happy to hear that,” she smiles. “Wait, you should come to the game on Sunday,” she 
“Are you sure? Shouldn’t I wait to talk to him until after this week's game?” You asked. 
“I have a feeling he’d be more than excited to see you at the game this week. Might give him that kick he needs to break out of whatever came over him this past 2 games,” she says. 
“Yeah, he has been a little off lately,” you frown. You didn’t know if it was because of you or his knee or something else, but something was off about him.
“If you decide to come, I’ll be waiting at the suite entrance since I know it would be your first time at a game,” 
“Maybe I’ll come around, it feels like it’s been so long since I’ve seen him,” you said. 
It was true, it had been so long since you’d seen him. And you missed him so much. You missed his little laugh, his silly jokes, his adorable smile, his beautiful eyes, his sexy morning voice, and most importantly, the warm and comforting feeling you got around him. 
“Mhm,” she replied. “You should wear his jersey too. I’m sure he’d love it,”.
Sunday — Paycor Stadium 
You walked into the stadium, taking a deep breath as you made it inside. You were wearing his jersey for the first time and were feeling a little nervous about the entire situation. You haven’t been to his game before, you haven’t even worn his jersey before, and you definitely didn’t know what the hell you were going to say to him once you saw him. You were so caught up in your head that you didn’t realize that you had walked over to the Suite entrance where Jess was waiting for you, just like she had said. 
“You made it!” She said as she pulled you in for a hug. “And your outfit looks so cute,” she adds, pointing out your jersey. You had put on the white bengal jersey, a vintage Bengals dad hat, and your favorite pair of jean shorts. And the cherry on top is your infinity necklace. 
“Yeah,” you said, a little frazzled because of the many thoughts floating through your head. 
She noticed your worried face and said, “Hey, don’t stress. It’ll be just fine, I promise,”. 
“I hope so,” you mumble. 
She turned her head around, looking to see if the hallway behind her was clear. “Joe won’t be able to come up here now, but that hallway leads straight to the tunnel and locker room entrance,” she says, fully implying that you should go down there and see him. 
A smile creeps up your face and you start playing with the infinity necklace around your neck. “Go get your boy,” she teases. 
She was right, time to stop being afraid. He was yours and you were his, there was no use fighting the alchemy. What’s meant to be, is meant to be, and you two were meant to be. 
You told her you’d be back in 10 or so minutes and made your way down the illustrious hallway. The walls were decorated with Bengals memorabilia, ranging from the beginning of the team and up to now. There were quite a few things on the walls about Joe, and seeing them made your heart full. 
You made your way down to the tunnel and locker room area, not sure where you should go from here. He did tell you a while back that family was allowed to be down here once in a while before or after the game, but you didn’t know where you should be. 
You took a peak at the field, seeing that there were a few players in their jerseys out there. “He must be getting ready to go out for some last-minute warmups before the walk-in,” you said to yourself. 
A sigh left your lips as you sat down on the bench across from the locker room entrance. You waited there for a few moments until you saw the door open, and out came Sam.
You immediately stood up and walked over to him and he noticed you instantly, “Oh- Hey Y/N! It’s great to see you. Jess told me you may be coming to the game so it’s great to see you here! How are you?” he asked. 
“I’m amazing Sam, Um, where’s Joe?” You said, getting straight to the point.
He chuckled and shook his head, “He should be coming out in a minute. Man, you two are definitely something,”.
Before you could ask him what he meant by that, he quickly cut you off because he had to go. “Anyways, I gotta go out there but good luck and enjoy your first in-person game,” he smiles as he puts his helmet on and starts to jog out. 
You say goodbye to him as you lean back against the wall. “Any minute now,” you whisper to yourself. 
A few minutes pass and you decide to go on your phone, seeing a few messages from Jess. She was letting you know that she was sitting inside the suite and grabbed you some food for when you got back. You were in the middle of sending her an update when you heard the door swing open. 3 men stepped out in their football gear and walked over to the tunnel, however, 1 stayed right in front of you. 
“Y/N?” the familiar voice asked. 
You looked up from your phone, and there he was. The man of your dreams, the person who made you feel cherished and safe.
“Joe,” was all you could say. The nerves you had been feeling for the past hour suddenly disappeared at the sight of him. 
He walked closer to you as you slipped your phone into your back pocket. His heart fluttered as he noticed you had his jersey on, but most importantly, you had the necklace on. 
“What are you doing-,” he said before you leaped into his arms, taking him by surprise which caused him to stumble back a little. 
“I’m so sorry. I am so so so so sooo sorry,” you said as you pushed your face into the crook of his neck. His arms hovered for a second before moving around your waist, holding you tightly. 
“For what?” he asked. 
You pulled your face out of his neck and met his eyes, “Everything. I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere,” you said as you gazed lovingly into his eyes. 
“But that’s only if you still want me-,” you add before he leans down and pushes his lips against yours. God, you missed the feeling of his lips against yours.
You both pull away after a few seconds, “Does that answer your question?”.
You grin at his little gesture, “Absolutely,”.  
He pulls you back into him, swaying you back and forth for a little. “We can talk after the game? At least, that’s if you’re staying,”.
“You really think I would be wearing your jersey if I wasn’t here to watch you,”.
“Fair point,” he laughs. He looked out over at the field and saw a few of the staff looking for him. “I gotta go,”. 
You release yourself from his embrace, “Don’t wanna keep them waiting too long,” you giggle. “I’ll be up in the Burrow Suite, just like we talked about,”. 
Joe felt like melting in the moment. He still couldn’t believe you were here, in his jersey, and were about to watch him play. He was scared and thought that he had lost you for good after what happened but you proved him wrong. 
“I’ll be looking for you,” he says, giving you a look that tells you he means business. 
“And I’ll be there, I swear,” you salute. 
He pulls you back in for another hug, “God, I can’t believe you’re here right now,”.
“Well, get used to it. I think I’ll be letting them know to save a permanent seat for me up there,”.
“I’ll buy you a whole suite just for yourself if you want me to,” he jokes, only partly.
“Baby Steps, Joey. Baby steps,” you giggle. 
Your tender moment is soon interrupted by a training staff member walking by, “Joe, we need you out there. They wanna go over a few things before kick-off,”.
“I‘ll be there in a sec,” he says, still holding you. 
“You should probably go before they send out a search party,” you say as you look up at him.
“You’re probably right,” he laughs as he lets go of you. “I’ll see you after the game in the suite. Hope you have fun,” he smiles. 
“Oh I will,” you respond. Joe presses a kiss onto your cheek before walking towards the tunnel. 
“Wait,” you whisper to yourself. “Wait, Joe!” You yell as you speed walk over to him before he goes out. He quickly turns around, “What’s Wrong?”.
You walk over to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders before moving your face closer to his, pressing a warm kiss on his lips. 
“I love you,” you whisper against his lips after you pull away. His eyes widen at your words and his stomach does a backflip. “Knock ‘em dead, Shiesty,” you say as you press another kiss to his lips before walking back to the hallway that leads up to the Suites. He felt absolutely love-struck as he watched you walk away. You said it. You finally said it. 
“Damn,” He whispered to himself, a huge smile on his face.
An hour later
The game was going great. Joe was killing it and seemed to have snapped out of whatever came over him the past two weeks. It was the start of the fourth quarter, the Bengals leading 27-21, and you were having the time of your life. 
“This is so fucking fun,” you grin as you take another sip of your drink.
“Welcome to the football life my friend,” Jess laughs.
“He’s too good, he is TOO good,” you yell, slightly tipsy since you had a few drinks. You mental note to not drink stadium cocktails because they were so strong, and you were definitely feeling it. 
“Ooof, third down and this is a crucial spot,” you say, standing up and moving closer to the railing. 
“Let’s see how it goes,” Jess says, putting her drink down and joining you at the railing. You held your breath as you watched the play unfold. Joe took a few steps to the side and a little back and then moved around as the pocket collapsed. He found an opening and launched the ball down the field, all the way into the endzone, which was then caught by Ja’marr for the touchdown. 
The crowd erupted at Joe’s impressive movement considering his knee and the amazing throw. “Holy Shit! That was a Dime!” you screamed over to Jess as you jumped up and down. 
“Look down there!” she said as she shook your arm out of joy.
You looked down and saw Joe facing the suite, on a knee doing what looked like the ‘archer’ pose, and drawing back his bow and arrow. He smiled as he released the imaginary bow straight up at you. Everyone below you in the stands looked up to see what he was paying so close attention to and saw you.
“Awww,” Jess teased.
You moved your hand to your heart as if you were struck by the bow and stumbled back for dramatic effect, and he noticed. Everyone noticed. He waved at you as he got up and a blush rose on your cheeks. It was very clear that the sign on his heart was still reserved for you by his very public declaration of his love for you. If people hadn’t caught on that Joe Burrow had a girlfriend, they sure knew now. 
“I love you,” you mouthed to him as he took his helmet off. 
“I love you too,” he mouthed back, setting off fireworks in your heart. 
A few hours later
The game ended with the Bengals winning 37-24, and people were raving about how Joe was finally looking like himself again. You had the best time watching him absolutely tear it up. You were currently waiting for him to meet you in the suite, pure dopamine coursing through your veins after that electric game. 
You were staring out onto the empty field, taking in the feeling. The bright lights and the poster of Joe being lifted up over his friend’s heads after the win that sent them to the Super Bowl last year on the side of the stadium made this all start to feel real. This was going to be a common thing for you, you belonged here. 
You heard the door swing open, meaning Joe was finally here. You turned around and saw him standing there with the biggest smile on his face. You ran over and launched yourself into his arms, pressing maybe a dozen kisses around his face. 
“You did so good, Joe,” you say in between kisses. “I’m so proud of you,”.
“Thank You,” he laughs as he holds you closer, never wanting to let go now that he had you for good. “I needed that extra kick from the heroine from earlier,”.
“What Kick?” you asked, incredibly confused. 
He burst out laughing once he realized what you were thinking of. “Heroine with an e”, he jokes. “Ya know, a girl with extraordinary characteristics and a great way of going about things,”.
“And am I supposed to be the Heroine?” you said as you tilted your head.
“Yes Ma’am,” he nods.
“But what did I say that gave you the extra kick?” you asked, completely oblivious. 
“Oh, you know, the ‘L’ word,” he said.
You paused for a few seconds before shouting, “Oh, you mean love?” as you leaned back a little while Joe nodded. “Yup it is true, I love you! I loveeee you Joe Burrow!,” you screamed at the top of your lungs. Normally you would never think of screaming in public like this, but it was a mostly empty stadium and empty suite. Just the two of you and you felt that feeling so strongly and this was the best way to let it out. 
“Are you drunk?” He laughs.
“Maybeee a little. Don’t get mad, those stadium cocktails are not for the weak,” you slur. “But that doesn’t make this any different, I still love you. Sober, Drunk, or High,”. 
“I love you,” he laughed before leaning in to press a deep kiss onto your pink lips which caused you to stumble back a little, his grip on your waist incredibly strong like he was never going to let go.
You both stayed in each other’s arms for a few moments, chatting about the game and how he absolutely loved the feeling he got once he saw you sitting in his suite. And you telling him about how much fun you had at your first football game. 
“It was amazing,” you said as you both sat down on the couch in the corner. “I’ve never seen anything like that before in my life ,”. 
“I’m glad you had fun,” he grinned, reaching over and entwining your fingers.
“I’m so proud of you, I mean you really killed it. I know the last few games were tough and those clowns wouldn’t shut up about their stupid ‘burrow is overrated’ agenda, but you didn’t let that get to you. You went straight for the crown,”. 
Joe started laughing which made you a little confused. “What’s so funny?” you asked.
“Just laughing at the scene. I can’t believe you’re here right now and giving me a motivational speech about football,”. 
“We’ll get used to it Joe, I think I’m taking a permanent position as your personal cheerleader,” you say as you run your hand through his wet curls. 
“God, I love you,” he says, your smile dropping a little which he notices.
“Hey Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks while absentmindedly rubbing your hand to help you relax.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to say it,” you said while looking down at your feet.
“Hey, don’t say that,” he says as he squeezes your hand. “You’re here, that is what matters,”. 
“You’re right, I am,” you say as you look back up with a smile. “And I don’t ever plan on leaving. You are what I’ve been waiting for and I finally have what I’ve always wanted. Someone who really loves me and appreciates everything about me. Someone who gets me and makes me feel like I’m on Cloud 9,”.
“I’m done being afraid of Love. You’ve shown me what true love feels like and that you are not like the amateurs. You know exactly how to win a girl over and treat her like she is the most special person in the world,” 
“Not only that. You also have someone who is infatuated with you, thinks you’re the coolest girl in the world, the most gorgeous woman to grace the planet, and the most remarkable human being he has ever met,” he adds. 
You feel like a breath of fresh air just hit your face and like you could breathe again. It was going to be different this time. It was going to be different because of Joe. 
“I love you,” you said to him again.
“I will never get tired of hearing that,” he says as he moves his hand to cup your cheek.
“Good, I’ll never get tired of saying it,” you say as you move your hand onto his which is on your cheek. 
“I’m glad we just let things fall into place by itself,” he says. “Well, other than my many attempts to win you over in the beginning. But after I finally won you over, everything was natural. Even this moment,” he says as he moves his hand back to yours, once again entwining your fingers. 
“Yeah,” you nod. “Who are we to fight the alchemy?”.
“Alchemy?” He asks as he raises his eyebrow.
“Yup. Same thing as chemistry, but that’s too common of a word to describe this. Alchemy is rare and it’s magical. A kind of transformation that only happens once every few lifetimes,”. 
“You turned something broken and dull into gold,” you add. “Alchemy,”.
“Huh, I guess I should use the word Alchemy to describe us from now on,” he says while rubbing your thigh. 
You moved closer to his warm body and pressed a slow kiss onto his lips, “Sounds like a plan,”. The love inside of you quickly turned to lust at the sight of your boyfriend plus the alcohol in your system. He looked absolutely mouthwatering. His wet hair from his post game shower, his flowy black shorts, and his partially wet white tee was sending you into overdrive. 
“Did I mention how sexy you look wearing my jersey?” he teased as he looked down at your outfit.
“I mean, it is yours so technically you look sexy wearing it too,” you giggled. 
“Mmm, you make it look sexier,” he disagrees. 
The soft glow of the lamp next to the couch wrapped around you both as you sat on the couch with Joe. The tension between you was palpable, the desire simmering just beneath the surface. 
You finally accepted your love for Joe and he was yours. Now you could fully enjoy these moments with him without that nagging thought of getting your heart broken in the back of your mind. 
Without saying a word, he reached out and pulled you closer, his lips crashing against yours in a fierce and hungry kiss.
His hands roamed your body, igniting a fire within you that you couldn't control. The physical connection between you was extremely clear once again. You moaned into his mouth as his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer to him. Your bodies pressed together, the heat between you building with every passing second.
You straddled his lap, feeling the hard muscles of his chest beneath your fingertips as you ran your hands over his body, desperate for more. Joe's kisses were fierce and demanding, his passion evident in every touch.
Lost in the moment, you wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as you became lost in each other. As the intensity of your passion grew, the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a heated embrace. And in that moment, nothing else mattered but the raw love you felt for each other.
You pulled away from the passionate kiss, breathless and your chest heaving. You looked into his ocean blue eyes which were filled with love and warmth and said, “I love you Joe Burrow, forever and ever,”. 
You weren’t scared anymore. You stopped fighting the alchemy and let the magical transformation happen just like it was supposed to. 
—The End—
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AITA for turning someone in for academic dishonesty?
I’m an American IB diploma candidate, and this ask does center around that, so sorry if we all just sound unbearably seventeen-years-old.
If you don’t know what the IB diploma is, think of it as if you had to write a bunch of essays and take a bunch of classes and do a bunch of service hours and then take AP tests on all those classes and add the AP scores together, and if they add up to a certain number, you get a special diploma that looks good to colleges.
Only eight people in the entire grade (we’re seniors and our exams are happening so we’re at the very end) are left in the IB diploma program right now because we made it this far and are all hoping our exam scores and essays. The program isn’t super popular at our school so we tend to have to mostly prepare ourselves for exams and such, so we’re all very proud of ourselves for getting this far and hoping that when our scores come out we get the diploma.
In short, we’ve done TONS of work. TONS OF WORK. And we haven’t received the amount of support that some IB schools are able to give. And suddenly, one of the IB diploma candidates admits in the group chat, “yeah, chatgpt wrote all of my IB essays.” If you know stuff about IB, she explicitly admitted to cheating on her Extended Essay, TOK Essay, TOK exhibition, Chemistry HL IA, History HL IA, Literature HL Essay, and Art HL Comparative Study.
That’s hours and hours and hours and hours of work that the rest of the diplomats candidates did that she’s just flippantly admitting she let an AI do for her.
but…….it also wasn’t really any of my business. So I wasn’t sure whether I should tell or not—especially since I’m the known goody-two-shoes of the group and I didn’t want to be viewed as a tattletale.
I asked two of the diploma candidates I’m friends with what they thought. One of them said “don’t be a snitch,” and the other said she wasn’t sure and kinda felt like I should talk. So… split response.
I was leaning towards “don’t be a snitch,” but eventually I just felt really indignant that this girl and I might receive the same end result for doing wildly different amounts of work. And I had evidence that she cheated—she admitted it herself. So I went to the school’s IB coordinator and I talked. I showed the screenshot. I essentially betrayed one of the candidates in a very tight knit group of students who are all breaking our backs to get this diploma with little to no IB-specific support from our teachers (our classes are all co-seated with non-IB-test-takers, who take up most of the class, which is an entirely different issue), but now it turns out one of us wasn’t even doing the work the whole time…
So I did it and it went to the administration and they’re “deciding how to proceed.”
Reason I’m worried I’m TA: she trusted us with that information and I told on her
Reason I think I might not be TA: it feels unfair that we should have the same shot at getting the IB diploma when the nights I stayed up crafting the perfect extended essay were the same nights she asked chatgpt to write her an essay and then moved on with her life and somehow did it well enough to not get caught.
AITA?
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