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honeydazai · 2 months

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୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ sending them suggestive pictures while they're at work

feat.: Dazai, Chūya, Ranpo, Fukuzawa, Fyodor, Sigma

content: nsfw, female reader, spanking, sexting, oral sxx, masturbation, semi public

It's not unusual for DAZAI to tap away on his phone during work hours, so no one — except for Kunikida, who still hasn't given up on glaring — pays it any mind when his smirk widens at his screen. What remains a secret, however, is that he's not looking at some funny tweet but instead at your tits, the blue lace of your bra making for a pleasant contrast in colour.

He's awfully smug about the whole ordeal, really; also, who is he not to play along? He definitely sends you not only some appreciative words back, but also a picture of his own, featuring either his hands — he does know that you're quite fond of his fingers, after all —, his face — because you can never complain about that! —, or his by now half-hard dick, pressing against his trousers, even though taking soft nudes borders on workplace indecency. Oh, and your pictures are definitely saved and stored away on his phone for later usage.

[new message from Dazai] “someone's needy, harassing me during work hours! just kidding bella!! you're so cute xx stunning too! how am i supposed to listen to kunikida any longer when you're so so pretty? :( ill call out sick, be there in 20 x”

CHŪYA really doesn't expect to see anything but a picture of a dog you saw outside or of a particularly pretty flower when he spares a brief glance at his phone during a Port Mafia meeting. It's already disrespectful, though he doesn't plan on anyone noticing the miniscule action — that is, until he all but chokes on his coffee at the photo of you, legs spread wide, two fingers deep inside of yourself, wearing not only his favourite lingerie set, but also one of his ties.

He tries hard to ignore the way everyone stares at him when he, all too abruptly, excuses himself to the bathroom, his face bright red. In the safety of a stall, he really can't do anything but shove his trousers to his knees, one hand immediately closing around his dick while he types your number into his phone with his free one — and while he might snap at you, oh so flustered, he's also so damn turned on that he can barely focus on anything but the sound of your voice and your photo.

“Fucking Hell, babe—, God, with how Mori was looking at me, I bet he knew what was up. Fuck—, send me another one, please, I'm so damn close, ah—”

Business meetings aren't RANPO'S favourite way to spend time. They're awfully boring, making him huff and sigh when he has to sit through them — though this one gets a lot more interesting the moment he clicks on a text message from you. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of your panties, pure lace and hiding not even the slightest bit just how wet you are, thighs glistening, though that's about all the physical reaction he's going to show. The fact that his dick strains against his trousers is no one's business.

He is, however, quick to text you back, amusement dripping from his messages, and if Fukuzawa wasn't already watching him with sharp eyes, he'd sneak away to the bathroom to call you. For now, you'll just have to do with sexting — this meeting is going to go on for a while, especially if he won't soon start contributing, and he's unfortunately got better things to do.

[new message from Ranpo] “having fun without me? youre so mean. at least send me more pics im dyin g here... maybw bend over or— ooo i know, we bought that toy a while ago, right? why don't you use that one for me, doll....”

FUKUZAWA sucks in a sharp breath the second his eyes fall onto your form clad in nothing but one of his yukatas, and even though he attempts to remain calm, he's already blushing, arousal churning low in his stomach. Really, he was just trying to take a miniscule break from all the paperwork he's facing — besides, the cat ringtone signaling your message did sound rather urgent! —, though now he's not certain whether he can focus on it again.

He ends up typing “This is most inappropriate.” in response, though he never sends it, instead replacing it with a “You look stunning.”, only to never send that one either. In the end, he just quits work a little earlier that day and hurries home faster than he'd ever want to admit, cheeks still flushed with arousal when he joins you in bed, immediately slotting himself between your pretty thighs, long fingers spreading your folds apart and into your cunt to prepare you — only to realise you've long done that yourself. How convenient. He might reprimand you a little afterwards, though both of you realise it's not to be taken seriously. When he's honest with himself, he rather liked that photo — and he'll definitely keep it.

“That was awfully inappropriate. Darling, you know I enjoy getting to hear from you during the day, and yet — what? I didn't mind you wearing my clothing in the slightest. I was worried about someone from the Agency seeing the picture. In fact, wear my clothes again whenever you feel like it. Please do. You looked quite irresistible.”

It's almost unfair just how seemingly unbothered FYODOR is. When checking his phone during a Decay of Angels meeting, aware that you know not to contact him except for important reasons, he merely glances at the photo lewdly depicting your raised skirt and the curve of your behind before putting it back into his pocket. Really, it's downright adorable that you're attempting to tease him — you should know better by now, darling.

While he doesn't bother with a response, he certainly makes sure to pay attention to you when he returns home. And, oh, the next time you want to toy with him, he sure hopes you remember this very moment, of you bent across his lap, his hand coming down ever so often on your butt, on the soft skin of your upper thighs, making you cry out with every slap. The marks, at least, will serve as a nice reminder, especially when you keep forgetting to thank him for every hit.

“There we go, dear. Ah, ah — don't cry now. This is what you wanted, is it not? My undivided attention — and you certainly have it, now. Which number were we on again? Tell me, darling, or we will have to start over, I'm afraid.”

The second SIGMA spares a quick glance at his phone, only to stumble upon a rather revealing picture you just sent him — and, God, 'rather revealing' is an understatement when he's able to see just how wet you are, thighs spread for the camera —, his face heats up significantly, earning him some odd looks from the other men he's currently in a meeting with. In a desperate attempt to regain professionalism, he clears his throat, trying to simply continue, but it's as if every thought has been erased from his mind and was replaced by you.

When getting home that evening, he's calmed down considerably, cheeks still warm with the memory of you being this bold, though his sudden calmness might just change when you expect him in that exact same position, legs wide apart, the smile on your face teasing — and who is he not to end up on his knees in front of you, tongue flattening against your cunt while both of you let out breathy moans? In the end, he's all but begging you to return the favour.

“Ah, God, I'm close. At least finish me off, please—, you were really cruel today, dear. Make it up to me? Please? Oh, fuck—”

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that-sarcastic-writer · 1 year

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Bandage To A Broken Heart (Simon 'Ghost' Riley)

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Fem Medic!!Reader

Summary: You're a medic assigned to the 141 task force, Ghost is particularly fond of you and after an injury, he comes straight to your door. This is in Ghosts point of view (still second person, just from his perspective)

Warnings: explicit content, minors dni, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, praise kink, size kink (mans 6'4 whaddya expect), choking, dirty talk, language, mentions of injuries, mentions of reader being much shorter than ghost and has tattoos, no other physically descriptions

WC: 7k I'm so sorry

A/N: FINALLY, ive been writing this fic for like 3 weeks now and I finally got to finish this and omggg, Im down so fucking bad for this man, so naturally I wrote filth for him. I hope my ghost girlies enjoy this

You can also read this over at Ao3

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Ghost was no stranger to pain. Not in the slightest. Pain was second nature to him. He had spent his entire life experiencing and learning to manage his pain to the point where he no longer felt it. But he'd be lying if he said that your touch didn't take away his pain better than he ever could himself.

Always so careful and gentle, and always willing to help anyone that walked into your infirmary and in the field. He couldn't understand how someone so sweet and caring could've ever ended up in the military, but then again after the things he had seen you do in the field, he'd be a fool to ever doubt your capabilities.

He was no stranger to you either, afterall, the 141 had become your main patients after you were assigned to their task force as their physician a year ago. And for one reason or another, Ghost always ended up at your infirmary, whether it was for an actual injury or to ask about your day under the excuse of needing some painkillers he probably didn't really need through grumbles and that particularly dry humor of his that always made your day. And truly, he'd be lying if he said it didn't make his day too.

Simon Riley was down bad for you, and he didn't know what to do about it.

He had lost track of time. He wasn't sure if it was from the crash or just the overall shit show that his latest mission had been, but everything was an absolute blur to him. All he knew is that there was only one thing he wanted to do and one thing only. He wanted to see you. No, he needed to see you.

Price had insisted Ghost joined the others at the infirmary, but he knew it wouldn't be you stitching up his wounds. After a very disastrous previous mission, you were left with pretty severe injuries yourself, ones that left you at your own infirmary for a few days. And while you assured them you were ready to go back to your duties, which included accompanying the 141 to their latest assignment, Price and Ghost himself insisted you sat this one out, and took a couple more days to fully recover. After a good fifteen minutes of protesting, you were outvoted. There were medics on base after all. But they weren't you, so naturally Ghost refused to go to the infirmary. He didn't trust anyone else but you. He'd rather bleed out, he said.

Price wasn't one to question anything Ghost did, he could take care of himself. And he knew you were the only one he trusted to take care of him.

Before he even realized it, Ghost was dragging himself to your quarters, unsure if you'd tell him to fuck off and to go to the infirmary instead, or if you'd honor the idea that he only trusted your hands to fix his wounds and take away his pain, for a little while at least. He was hoping it was the ladder.

He knocked, once, twice and a third time, and with a pained groan he leaned his body against the door, trying to take some weight off his sore legs. He waited, his mind racing and thinking that maybe you weren't at the infirmary for a reason, that maybe he should leave you alone and let you take some well deserved rest.

But he needed to see you, right now.

He lifted his head only a few inches to find you, for the first time not in your usual uniform, but instead a plain dark green tee that left the pattern of black and colored ink on your right arm on full display, and sleeping pants. But you didn't look like you had been asleep, you looked wide awake. Though that quickly turned into what Ghost thought was a mixture of worry and relief on your features. He knew because he had that same look when you woke up after he had carried your unconscious body to the medivac.

"Will you ever learn to take care of yourself out there?" Were the first words out of your mouth as you scanned his slouched body, taking particular notice to the hand glued to his right shoulder.

He let out a dry chuckle and the way in which his entire body relaxed, his shoulders dropped and was no longer on high alert the second he saw you was more than obvious. Whether or not you did notice that or not was beyond his people reading skills.

He didn't have to ask or say anything, you simply moved out of the way and walked back. He followed you in, his heavy but surprisingly quick steps following close behind you until you eventually came to a stop. He stopped, standing to his full height and his dark eyes were fixed on you as he waited for you to grab your medical supplies, which he knew you always kept around just in case.

"I can't check for injuries with all that gear Simon." You motioned your free hand to his tactical vest strapped with just about every weapon he could carry and most likely a bullet covered plate underneath his jacket.

He stood silent for a long second, just taking in the way you said his name. You only ever called him Simon in private, where you both knew you were safe from everyone else, where your protective armors could come down for once. He liked it when you called him Simon, it reminded him that he was still, in fact, a human being, that he was still Simon Riley, not just the ghost of a dead man that hid behind the mask of a killing machine.

He gave you a nod and his hand went towards the clips that kept his harness and vest together. Slowly, minding the throbbing pain in his shoulder, he dropped his vest on the floor, his black jacket quickly following the same fate. This, though, earned a groan of discomfort when his shoulder moved, he closed his eyes momentarily as he pulled the sleeve from his injured shoulder before dropping his jacket to the ground as well. All that was left was his clinging black shirt leaving the black ink of his arm on full display, and of course, his balaclava and the skull plate stitched to the thick fabric.

You were already gloved up by then, your tools already laid out on a desk behind Simon. So once he was free on his gear, you looked up at him, now seeing the trail of dry blood that ran down his right arm, starting at his shoulder. You stared at him for a few seconds as he stood there before you spoke.

"I can't stitch your shoulder if you're all the way up there Simon, sit down." You rolled your eyes, forcing out an exasperated sigh and exaggerated motion for him to sit down by your desk.

"It's not my fault you're all the way on the ground down there. Would it kill ya to grow a few?" He said with his usual lack of emotion, but under his mask, his lips tugged up just a tiny bit at the glare you gave him as he sat down in front of you, because even with him sitting down, he was still half a head taller than you.

"I'll remember that next time you come to my infirmary asking for pain killers after you get shot or stabbed again." You shot him a nasty glare, but you both knew you didn't mean that. "Speaking of getting shot, how did this happen?"

He hissed barely loud enough to be heard through his mask when he felt you lift the sleeve of his shirt and scrunched it up to his shoulder to reveal a gash from a bullet just above his bicep. You glanced at him, eyes meeting his own for a second in a silent apology before you turned your attention back to his wound.

"Bastard shot me at close range, bullet must've grazed through my jacket. Good thing he was a shit shot though." He answered, his eyes watching you as you cleaned the dried blood around the wound, more focused on you than any pain he could be feeling in that moment.

"Y'know, had you let me go on that mission I probably would have cleaned this up hours ago." You muttered, swiping the wet cotton around his skin, giving him a minute or two to breathe before actually cleaning the wound.

"Had you gone with us you would've probably ended in the infirmary for another week." He quickly shot back, his naturally gruffly and raspy voice turning just a bit more so at the idea of it and you could feel his shoulders tense under your fingers. "Better me than you, eh?"

"That's not funny." Your eyes flickered in his direction and you narrowed them at him, only to find his brown eyes staring deep into you, not once looking away. Until you swiped a soaked cotton over his wound and he exhaled deeply and unevenly, his eyes closing momentarily as he felt his skin throb and burn.

"I'm not laughing," He eventually responded in a quiet tone, eyes finally opening to meet yours once again.

"Do you ever?" You asked with a tiny smile, earning the typical dead eyed glare Ghost gave everyone that annoyed him.

"No."

You looked away from him, lips curved up into a smile as you covered his clean wound with a gauze, not really needing stitches. You weren't looking at him then, so you missed the way he looked at you, his head slightly tilted and his eyes hooded as he memorized every detail of your face. He always did this, just in case it was the last.

"Anything else hurts?" You asked after a minute, taking your gloves off and throwing them on the desk and leaned on your left foot, head tilted as you looked at him again.

"Mmm," He half pointed to the left side of his face, "I hit my face when the heli crashed. 'm afraid I did some irreparable damage to that side of my face."

You stared at him, you blinked a few times and your eyebrows furrowed with confusion at his request. He knew you were trying to understand his request, he was giving you permission to see his face. For the first time and you weren't sure if he was being serious or not.

"I can't, y'know, the mask," You pointed to the thick fabric covering his face, noticing the tear on the left side but you made no effort to actually look, let alone touch.

You stood still, hands glued to your side, itching to remove his mask yourself, but you were afraid, afraid to cross an irreversible boundary. He could see it, he could see the way your hands shook and your teeth nervously dug into your bottom lip. And he wasn't much better, he could feel his heart pound in his chest and his breath pick up. But he wasn't scared.

He trusted you.

Simon watched you intensely, brown eyes watching every detail on your face, every expression as he reached up to the front of his balaclava and with a deep exhale he pulled it off his head. Your lips parted and your eyes slightly widened. He could hear how your own breath picked up in an instant. But you weren't scared or disgusted, not at all. All he saw was awe.

You slowly licked your lips as you stepped closer, until you were standing over his knee with your parted legs. With a shuddered breath you leaned down, eyes lingering on his own before they flicked down to the cut on his left cheek. Your hand ghosted over his face, but didn't quite touch him, for some reason, this felt like another boundary you didn't want to push unless he said so.

He noticed your hesitation, and he didn't blame you. But he didn't need to say anything, he simply nodded.

He shuddered when he felt your soft fingers graze his skin and he momentarily closed his eyes, before opening them again to watch you bring a wet cotton to clean the dried blood on his face.

“What happened to your face?” You asked quietly after a long silence, brushing the cotton over the cut that appeared to be a couple inches long right across his cheekbone.

“Enemy missile, the heli crashed. I dunno how I got out of there. I blacked out and next thing I knew I was being dragged out of that heli by Soap.” He explained, the memories of it all still being too blurry to remember clearly. But he did remember one thing; the thoughts going through his head in that moment. “We lost a lot of good soldiers.”

“You’re lucky all you got out of that was a cut on your face and probably a concussion. You could’ve died.” Your throat nearly closed up then, your fingers stopping to rest on his face. You were both used to this idea of death, of going on an assignment and never coming back, but that didn’t make your heart ache any less.

He turned his head to look at you, his eyes searched for yours, but you weren’t looking at him, “Well I’m alive aren’t I?”

“Yeah, and you’re one lucky motherfucker for that,” Your voice was close to breaking, and your hands were shaking. Was that anger he heard in your voice? Or was it panic at the idea of him dying? “I could’ve helped, I just wish I had been there.”

His gaze turned hard and his jaw tightened, “I don’t.” His tone shifted, there was nothing lighthearted about it, he was being dead serious. And you actually looked at him this time, and you found his eyes. But you didn’t respond, you couldn’t, so you stayed silent as you gave yourself the time to actually take him in.

"So what's the diagnosis Doc, am I gonna make it?" The low timber of his voice startled you after a long minute or two, but not because it was loud, he barely raised his voice above a whisper, it startled you because you were so focused on taking in each and every one of his features, the unique shape of his nose, his sharp jaw, the three day stubble that scratched the pads of your fingers, his light eyelashes that contrasted the dark paint smeared over his eyes. You memorized all of them in case you never saw them again.

A small smile eventually tugged at your lips and you chuckled softly, nodding, "Looks like it, you'll have a scar though."

He chuckled, and this time, you could see the tiny curl of his lips when he did so, "I can live with that."

His lips fell back into a flat line and instead, his eyes locked onto yours for a long second and he could swear he could hear your heartbeat. Or maybe it was his own. He wasn’t sure, all he knew was that he was this close and he couldn’t stop the thoughts in his head.

Something was different. Something in the air felt different. The careful touches of your hands, they were different. And he felt different too.

He leaned in, stopping only when he heard you take a small breath. One of his hands rested on your hip then, and when you didn't tense or shoved him away, he pulled you closer with a tight grip

“Tell me to stop, right now.” His voice was low and quiet, but you heard him loud and clear. And you didn't want him to. He didn't want to either.

"Simon…"

He didn’t have to hear anything else, he heard all he needed to hear. The way his name fell from your tongue, the shakiness in your voice and the way you also leaned in, like your body was gravitating towards him. He knew.

His large hand found the back of your neck and he pulled you in, lips capturing yours into a kiss that left you without air. His other arm sneaked around your waist to pull you closer and forced you down on his thigh. You gasped softly at the sudden movement, but you welcomed it nonetheless and you threw your arms over his neck as his mouth covered yours. He took it slow, much to your surprise. For a man known for his brutality he was surprisingly gentle. He kissed you slowly, his tongue eventually slipped into your mouth, but it never felt messy or rushed. You honestly didn't know how long he held you like this, but eventually he let you go to breathe when he started to feel you panting.

"This okay?" He asked barely above a whisper, the raspy ring of his voice filling your ears in a way that made your thighs unconscious clench against his leg. Which he definitely felt, but he kept that to himself.

"Yeah, more than okay." You answered with a breathless laugh.

"Good."

Both of his hands were on your waist and he was on his feet in an instant. He completely forgot about the pain shooting through his arm when he hoisted you around his hips. It caught you off guard and you were wrapping your legs around his torso instinctively.

"Simon your arm—"

"I don't give a shit about my arm." He had his uninjured arm holding your thighs and he was looking at you with this look in his eyes you had never seen from him, but you liked it.

You leaned down, lips crashing against his own with an urgency that made him want to find the bed even quicker. He eventually figured it out and your back was hitting the mattress before you even realized it. He held himself above you, your legs still wrapped around his waist. His lips left yours and attached themselves to your neck. He wouldn't leave a mark knowing everyone would see it, but he still took his time finding that spot that made you squirm under him while his own hands were making work of exploring. He ran a cautious hand into your shirt, calloused fingers grazing your skin until he found your breast, and he squeezed. You shivered under his touch and an unconscious moan escaped your lips. He could himself twitch against the constraint of his denim jeans at the mere sound. Fuck, if that's what you sounded when he barely touched you, he could only imagine what you would sound like wrapped around him. And he wondered when was the last time someone touched you like this. Probably as long as him.

"When was the last time someone touched you like this?" His words caught your ear in a haze, it took you a minute to register them, but when you felt him pitch your covered nipple you answered.

"I don't—” You swallowed, blinking a few times as you tried to clear your foggy mind, “A long time, years I think." You eventually answered, eyes glued to the ceiling as you tried to keep your head straight.

He gave you a quiet hum, his hand moving down to your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your pants, and he lifted his head to look at you, "Did you ever think about me touching you like this?"

The way his words left his mouth, the raspiness in his accented voice and coated with arousal, it made your throat close up, and the way his intense and dark eyes were fixated on you didn't help either. You felt so small under this mountain of a man and his gaze, all you could do was nod.

"Words love, use 'em."

“Yes.”

A subtle smirk tugged his lips, the confirmation that you had wanted him as much as he had wanted you igniting a hunger and need that could only be satiated with one thing. You.

He lifted his head to capture your lips in a feverish kiss that was so rough it made you gasp into his mouth. You snaked a hand the back of his head, one that quickly took a hold of his messy short brown strands, a motion that didn’t go unnoticed by him. The growl that came from his throat was otherwise muffled by your lips, but what he did next, however, didn't go unnoticed either. His large hands found the collar of your shirt, and without hesitating, he tugged and ripped the fabric right in half. The moan that ripped from your throat at his manhandling was anything but subtle, and he swallowed it happily. He pulled back, tugging your bottom lip as he did so and his dark hungry eyes fixated on the newly exposed skin once he laid eyes on you. He took a hard swallow as his hands traveled to your chest and much like he had just done with your shirt, he ripped your bra open by the thin fabric that connected both cups.

“Fuck, look at you,” He breathed out, hands brushing over hardened nipples as he took in the sight of you in front of him, chest completely exposed, your hair loose and pooling around your head and arms now sprawled above your head, expectant and ready to do as he asked, “You’re absolutely perfect.”

“I could say the same about you,” You replied, breathless and reaching to tug at the hem of his own shirt with urgency. “Please Si.”

Fuck, how could he ever deny you anything? And more so when you ask him like that?

With a short nod, he moved his hands from your chest and grabbed the back of his shirt, quickly pulling it over his head. And fuck, the amount of gear this man wore definitely didn’t sell him short. His muscled chest was covered in various scars, ones you had seen, and others you hadn’t. And from his neck hung his dog tags, ones you had never ever seen him wear. Lord this man was going to be the death of you just as you were going to be his.

“Listen to me,” He said through a heavy breath, pulling you from your frenzied state for just a second, “If you want me to stop you tell me, no fancy words, tell me stop and I will. Is that understood?”

It took you a couple seconds to respond, your mind already foggy with the need to feel his touch, but you nodded at his words regardless, “Yes sir.”

Your hands found the back of his neck and you crashed your lips against his with a newly found urgency that made him groan into your mouth. His calloused hands found the waistband of your pants, and he tugged them down without hesitation. With a hard swallow you lifted your hips off the bed, allowing him to pull them down, your panties quickly following. He tossed them behind him somewhere to join his previously discarded vest and jacket.

He brushed a long finger through your folds, swallowing the choked out moan that came out of your mouth. You shuddered under him, your thighs unconsciously closing around his hand as he drew circles around the bundle of nerves. You didn’t even remember the last time you were touched by hands that weren’t you own, and fuck, his felt so much better already.

“No, no,” He tisked, pulling back to glance down at his hand practically disappearing between your thighs before he gave you a stern look, “Keep those legs open for me.”

You did as you were told, you shakily spread your legs apart, and you were rewarded with a thick finger dipping into your entrance with ease. He took a deep breath as he felt your walls clench around his finger and he could feel himself twitch in his pants, wondering just how you would feel around his cock instead.

With a hiss of pleasure, you threw your head back and your hips slightly lifted off the mattress as he filled you with two of his long fingers. He drew them in and out until he could feel you start to drip on the palm of his hand.

“Shit, shit, fuck.” Your lips fell open, silent cries leaving your mouth as he began to scissor you open with each snap of his wrist. It wasn't long before you could start to feel that delicious burn in the pit of your stomach.

His thumb eventually found your nub, he pressed it and rubbed circles around it as he buried his thick fingers to the knuckle each time. He could already feel it, the way your walls clenched around his fingers, your shuddering thighs, your hands fisting the sheets. His lips found the shell of your ear, and as he curled his fingers against your most sensitive spot he spoke.

“You’re doing so good,” He coaxed, his thumb pressing your clit with enough force to make you twitch and roll your eyes into the back of your head, “This what you need love?”

“Yes!”

“Yes what?” He slammed his fingers knuckles deep, his palm rutting against your clit. He could have you screaming anything he wanted and he knew it.

“Yes Lieutenant!”

“Good. Good girl.”

He knew you were close, he could feel it. He was slamming his fingers in and out of you, burying them knuckle deep and crooking them against your most sensitive spot over and over. Until you were nothing more than a shaking and whimpering mess, begging for release. And he was gladly going to give it to you.

“O-oh fuck. Fuck Simon please!”

He nearly lost it when he heard you scream his name, your voice shaky with pleasure, and your own body overwhelmed with pleasure. But if there was anything he had a lot of, it was self control. He had a mission to accomplish. And he wasn’t going to stop until he had you falling apart under his touch. Which happened soon enough. One of your hands flew to grip his wrist, the lewd sound of his palm slapping against your dripping core filling your ears in the most delicious way possible. And in a quick flash of a blinding heat, you tossed your head and buried your face in his shoulder, your toes lifting from the mattress and curled as your juices coated his hand.

“Goddamn,” He cursed under his breath, the sound of his name leaving your mouth in a quiet whimper filling his ears as his fingers slowed, but never quite left you, “My name sounds so good when you say it like that.”

You barely caught his words as he spoke under his breath, but you did, and all you could say in response was a high pitched hum as you tried to catch your breath. Your eyes were still screwed shut and your legs were still shaking when his fingers left you. With a quiet hiss, your head fell to the side as you brought a hand to your burning face, trying to compose yourself.

“You still with me Doctor?” Simon spoke, amusement coating his tone. You chuckled softly and gave him a nod. “I need verbal confirmation love.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him because you knew he was teasing you, but you indulged him regardless. You turned your head in his direction and opened your eyes to find his own glued to your face of course.

“Solid copy Lieutenant.” You finally said with a small eye roll. He looked amused, and he nodded. But what caught your attention was the growing smirk on his face as his eyes eventually landed on his hand as he held it out of your eyesight. “What’s so funny?”

“This,” He brought his hand closer to your face, and even through your slightly blurry vision, you could see it glisten. You opened your eyes more and your jaw dropped, your face burning with embarrassment. With a low chuckle, he rubbed his fingers together and then spread his index and middle finger apart to show the extent of the wetness you had left on his hand.

“Oh my god.” You threw your hands over your face, effectively mortified, you weren’t sure why, but it made you feel pathetic. Simon, on the other hand, was quite pleased.

“Gettin’ shy are we?” His lips brushed against your ear, and you couldn’t help but shove him slightly.

Both of your hands eventually fell to his chest as your eyes found his brown ones, and the look he found behind those eyes of yours made him want to take you over and over until you were nothing but a shaking and whimpering mess.

“Lay down Simon.” You eventually said, both hands flat on his scar littered chest. He took a deep breath and he nodded slowly.

“Yes ma’am.”

He was on his back in an instant, eyes never leaving you as you threw a leg over his hips and sat just above his crotch. Your thighs burned with ache as they were stretched out over his massive body. His hands held your hips as he watched you through hooded eyes, very tempted to shove you down on his cock, but he let you take your time, this time.

“Let me ride you, please.” Your words were quiet, pleading and desperate, and they shot straight to his cock. He honestly didn’t know where this side of you came from, pleading and so eager to please him, but fuck he wanted to explore every inch of it. His fingers dug into your hips, but he remained still, only nodding.

“Permission granted.” He replied with a quiet hiss, his patience growing thin the longer he had you on top of him, your wetness coating his lower abdomen. “Go on.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. Your shaky hands fumbled with his belt, the buckle ratling a few times as you tried to undo it, the button of his denim jeans quickly following. He momentarily closed his eyes when your hands brushed against his clothed erection. He blew out an exhale through his nose as he lifted you up just enough to be able to pull himself from the confines of his boxers. He let out a long breathy groan as he freed himself, his cock slapping against his stomach. With a hard swallow, you held yourself above his cock, hands resting against his lower abdomen to brace yourself as he lined himself up at your entrance, coating himself in your slick.

He was expecting you to take your time, to take him slowly, so when you sank down on him, his length slipping inside a few inches before being met with resistance, he had to take a deep breath.

“Easy..” He coaxed, easing a hand up and down your stretched out thighs, watching closely the way your eyes closed and your face twisted with a mixture of slight pain and pleasure.

“Fuck you’re so big..” You blurted out between breaths. Simon opened his eyes in surprise at your remark, he knew he was significantly big, but he wasn’t expecting to hear you say it. But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his cock twitch the slightest bit.

“You’re doing good. Slow.” He spoke lowly, guiding your hips little by little, hissing softly each time you took another inch of him, until you sat fully on him, and even then you couldn’t fit all of him. He allowed himself to close his eyes as you sat still, your hips only rolling ever so slightly as you adjusted to the massive size of him. “There ya go, atta girl.”

When he felt you were ready, he guided your hips up, lifting you off his cock inch by agonizing inch, his eyes stuck to where his cock left your soaked cunt, and when he was almost all the way out, he pushed your hips down without a warning. You let out a quiet cry, you dug your nails into his abs and your thighs tensed. His eyes shot up to your face with concern and he sat still, but you were quickly shaking your head.

“I’m okay Simon, please.” Your eyes found his and you nodded reassuringly, teeth digging into your bottom lip eagerly. He squeezed your hips and nodded.

You were rocking and rolling your hips, your walls clutching his length with a bit of resistance. And you could tell he was fighting the urge to thrust up each time you rolled your hips. But he stayed still, only his fingers dug into your hips, surely to leave bruises in the morning. His eyes were closed and he was muttering under his breath as you moved at your own pace. For now.

“Fuck, come on love,” He encouraged, voice restrained as you eventually moved with more ease. His words gave you a new found confidence, and with such, you lifted yourself up and sank back down on him, and again, and again, until your whimpers turned into moans. “That’s it. Fuck that’s it, take what you need.”

You’d be damned if you didn’t do as he said.

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you bounced on his cock. His eyes moved from your face to where your bodies connected, he watched with glazed eyes as his cock disappeared inside your walls, only to appear again covered in your juices. He focused on it, the sound of his belt buckle clicking each time you bounced filling his ears.

“You’re taking my cock like a good girl, aren’t ya?” His words came out through breathy groans as he guided your hips again and his own hips involuntarily lifted every once in a while.

“Please Simon, more, I want more— Fuck—”

He had to take in the way you whined his name, the way you begged, it was so fucking intoxicating and he never wanted to stop hearing it.

“Yeah? You want more?”

You were nodding frantically, your movements only doing so much to give you what you both needed and he knew it.

He sat up, his chest now pressed against yours as he sneaked his tattooed arm behind your back, holding you upright as he thrusted upwards. He found a pace quick, and even faster and deeper than the one you had made yourself. He had you twitching and shaking in his grip as cries ripped from your throat in a matter of a minute or two. And you definitely weren’t complaining, his cock was pounding deeper, hitting that perfect spot better than you could ever get it there yourself.

“Yes! Fuck, Simon please, please don’t stop.” You were begging frantically, your hands landing on his back and your nails dragged across his scar littered back and shoulders. He took in the way you pleaded, the way you moaned, and took particular note of the squeal you gave when his thick cock hit your g-spot with ease. And he did so, over, and over, until all you could say was his name between cries.

“Yeah, like that?” Again, and again his cock brushed against the perfect spot. You couldn’t even hold yourself up anymore, your face was buried in his shoulder and tears slipped from your eyes.

“Yes!” You sobbed into his shoulder, your walls clenching around his cock in the same way you had around his fingers a little while before.

“Shit, come on, come on. Be a good girl and come for me.” He muttered, not once faltering his pace, only bringing you closer to the edge with each delicious drag of his cock. He slipped a hand into your hair, fingers fisting around the strand a as he pulled your head back, making sure you were looking at him, “Look at me, that’s it, keep those pretty eyes on me when you come.”

His name slipped from your tongue over and over as you came, somehow managing to keep your eyes open as your whole body shuddered violently. Tears slipped from your eyes as you sobbed his name and you brought your forehead to rest against his, one of your shaky hands resting on the back of his neck. The hand on your hair moved your face, and his fingers brushed against your cheek, catching your tears.

“Fuuuck, that’s fucking it. That’s my girl.” He groaned out as he fucked you through your orgasm.

He felt your wetness coat his cock even more, allowing him to slip just ever so deeply until he was nearly rutting against you, the patches of hair at the base of his cock brushing against your oversensitive clit. With a guttural groan, the hand on your face slipped to the base of your neck and he held it between his long fingers as he fucked into you with a new urgency, like he was chasing his own release. He fucked you like it too, his thrusts were sharper and shallow, and they faltered.

“Fuckin’ hell,” He muttered, droplets of sweats rolling from his forehead and mixing with the already messy grease paint covering his eyes. His forehead fell to your chest as held your neck in place, “I’m right there… Fuck I—”

He was about to pull himself out of you, but you slipped out from your drunkenly euphoric state for just a second to slam down on his cock until your hips met, hands on his shoulders as you sank down on him with enough force to slip a breathy moan from him.

“I have an IUD. I-I want you to, please.” You said shakily into his ear, your words barely coherent, but you knew what you meant, and he did too.

A low growl ripped from his throat as he gave you a few more thrusts before his hips faltered, his other hand found your ass and he held you down on his cock. His fingers squeezed your throat and a guttural moan left his lips as he spilled himself inside you.

“Bloody fuckin' Christ,” he panted into your chest, most likely smearing his war paint on your chest, but you honestly didn’t give a fuck. “You’re fuckin’ perfect.”

You gave him a weak hum, eyes closing as you tried to breathe once he let go of your neck. “I’m guessing your arm doesn’t hurt anymore?” You laughed weakly, brushing a hand under the gauze you had placed there earlier.

He lifted his head, brown eyes as intense as ever as he slightly tilted his head, “What arm?”

You shot him a playful glare and shook your head as you unwrapped yourself from him and with a long breath of exhaustion, landed on your back next to him, your mixed releases dripping down your thigh. He chuckled quietly to himself at the sight of his jeans, mixed releases pooling at the front of the denim. With a sigh, he tucked himself into his boxers, catching a glance of you, chest still glistening with sweat, hair messy and pooling above your head as you lied with closed eyes. He shook his head, about to stand up to find something to clean his mess with when you spoke.

“Simon?” His eyes found yours on him and he nodded, allowing you to continue. You bit your lip and sat up with a sharp exhale, your sore muscles already screaming at you for your reckless activities, “How long have we known each other?”

The question hit him unexpectedly, his eyebrows slightly furrowed but he answered quickly, not even having to think about it, “About three years.”

“Why did you take your mask off now?” You dared to ask, the curiosity of what suddenly changed eating you up.

His lips fell in a flat line, his eyes opening as he remembered that he had, in fact, taken his mask off, he had felt so comfortable that he had forgotten he wasn’t wearing it. He didn't answer right away, he sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving you as you watched him expectant. You brought the sheets up to your chest, bringing them with you as you moved closer to him, until your shoulder was touching his. You looked up at him, but you never rushed him, you simply waited patiently.

“When the heli crashed,” He began, “I knew I was going to die. And I was ready to die. And then I thought..” His lips fell in a flat line again as he turned his head to look at you. Your eyes were glossy, but you didn’t cry, you simply nodded for him to continue, “All I could think about in that moment is that I was going to leave this world when the only woman I had ever cared about didn’t even know what I looked like.”

Your lips fell open and your eyes widened with awe. He didn’t have to say the words, you knew what he meant.

“Simon…”

“Either of us could die at any moment, I realized that when I carried your unconscious body through that field, and I realized it when the heli crashed, didn’t make sense to pretend I don’t give a shit about you.”

Your hand found his face and you pulled him down into a deep kiss, one that said everything you both needed to say, everything you couldn’t say with words.

You were the remedy to all his injuries and the bandage to his damaged heart. You were all he needed and he’d be damned if he let that go.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley

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chasedbyatlantic · 2 months

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finally alone, joel miller

masterlist summary: IN WHICH — you and joel miller are nothing but flirty towards each other, no matter the situation. when the two of you decide to take an unauthorized visit outside of jackson, it really shows.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson era!joel, gender neutral!reader, no use of y/n, fluff, implied-ish relationship, friends to lovers type beat, mentions of cheating/death/hooking up, reader is a bit of a player, stripping, swearing. lmk if i missed anything else!

wordcount: 2.3k

a/n: guys comment what u want me to write abt cuz im running out of ideas haha :,). remember to like, comment, reblog and follow for more! xoxo

—

It was a torrential downpour right now, the sun had disappeared hours ago and there was nowhere to wait it out. It was nice and sunny this morning when the two of you had left the walls, passing by the sleepy guards with no issues whatsoever. Tommy had given everyone working the walls instructions to not let you or his brother go through without clearing with Tommy first, but some rules are meant to be broken, right?

Not that you had a bad reputation, but not too many of the conservative mothers and elderly were fond of you. It had to have been because of your loud mouth, you had convinced yourself. But the weeks following yours and Joel's arrival, you were sure it was more than just your loud mouth. You were always on edge, and ready to fight people for what you needed- for Christ sake, you lived outside of the walls for ten years, you couldn't have been any different. It probably also didn't help that you hooked up with a married man or two, but that's besides the point.

You and Joel were partners, not literally, but the two of you had been teamed up for a while. You met at the Boston QZ when Marlene, the leader of the Fireflies, had tasked the both of you to move 'precious cargo'. You grew close to Joel, and eventually Ellie. After arriving at Jackson, Ellie had separated herself a bit from Joel and you, but you two remained tied at the hip, despite what everyone thought about it.

People had suspected and assumed what was happening between you and Joel, that you two were a couple and you were cheating on him with married men. First of all, the two of you weren't together, and second of all, those men wanted to fuck you, not the other way around. You and Joel had only laughed off the allegations, not really giving a shit about what anyone else thought about the two of you.

The two of you were completely drenched, right through your clothes, when you arrived at the place you had planned to visit, a Walgreens. Well, an outdated Walgreens. You could tell the place was still stocked with food after twenty years, there were just a few runners the two of you had to get rid of. You two were at the back of the Walgreens, the employee entrance. "Do we have to go in?" You asked, "I wanna stay out and dance in the rain!" You had to have your voice raised a bit, the water muting many of the room tone-like sounds.

He checked the clip in his pistol, before shoving it back in. "Y'ur actin' like we ain't gonna have all the time in the world to dance in there, plum." You hated that, plum. First of all, he knew you absolutely hated the name, second of all, plums were your least favourite fruit. "I'll feed you to those runners if y'ain't careful." You threatened him.

Joel shook his head, knowing you wouldn't do anything. It was funny, really, you saying you would hurt him. He found it cute if anything. "Ya' know what to do in there, you get one'n I'll get the others." You nodded your head as Joel silently opened the door. The three runners in there turned their head and screamed, immediately running to the two of you. They spared you some time, though, from tripping over everything in the way.

Joel went first, shooting at the one that had flew over for him. It went down without a fight, and you had leaped over its body in a careful matter. You were better in hand-to-hand combat, so you had your machete swinging to cut half a head off of the runner. When the runner you had killed fell to the floor, another gunshot and body drop was heard from where Joel was. You turned to see all three down, Joel almost grinning. "Too easy, eh?"

You shook your head, your eyes rolling. "Alright pretty boy," You said, "Help me drag 'em outside." He holstered his weapon, sliding a sly 'yes ma'am' to you before helping, knowing that would drive you crazy. It did, though you chose to ignore it. The two of you were very flirty with each other, it was a second nature in all honesty. Though, you didn't mind it, Joel was anything but ugly.

He helped you bring the former-runners outside, it only took a couple minutes - you two didn't want to go back outside, but you had to do what needed to get done. Once the two of you were finished, Joel had locked the door, which meant the two of you were stuck in here for a while. "Did the list get destroyed?" You questioned him, as he searched through his bag. Joel, not long after, took out a small piece of paper with a grin on his face. "All good."

Not too long after, you were down one aisle, Joel the one beside. You decided to sort of split up, and efficiently scavenge for what you needed to get. You two wanted to keep this place on the downlow, in case things ever went south in Jackson and you needed a place to take Ellie to. It was perfect, really, despite the few runners that were here previously. Food, water, medicine, shelter, everything you needed when the world was in this state.

The two of you were in comfortable silence, until you broke it. "Joel?" You had called out, a small 'hm?' being returned from him not long after. "What type of, uh- lotion did she want? There's forty different kinds." Your eyes scanned the shelf, reading every different label. Ellie had promised you that she wouldn't tell anyone about yours or Joel's whereabouts if you picked her up this certain type of lotion, one to help her bite be less itchy, or something.

"Uh," He began, "Nivea? 'M not sure." Your eyes scanned the shelf once more, before picking up the bottle and sliding it in your bag. It almost slipped out of your hands, you were still completely drenched from the shitty weather outside. Just as you were about to leave that aisle, and join Joel at his, something caught your eye. This is perfect, you thought to yourself, you needed a good laugh and this would crack you up.

You reached for the wrapped box, "Joel?" You had called out once more. You heard shifting around from the other side, "What is it?" He replied. You threw the box over to his side, putting your hand over your mouth as you tried to muffle your laughs. The thud of the box hitting the floor was the only other sound, other than you laughing of course.

"Really?" Was heard from the other side, "Condoms? Real fuckin' mature o'you." This sent you through the roof, honestly. Maybe it was the lack of sleep you had been getting for the last few weeks, or that this was genuinely ridiculous, but you just bursted out with laughter. Let the whole world hear you, you thought to yourself, who cares.

"I'm sorry!" You had exclaimed in between laughs, "It was too fuckin' funny not to!" You slipped past into Joel's aisle, looking for him. He wasn't there. Your laughs calmed down, "Joel?" You drug out the last part of his name, curiously stepping forward. As soon as you did that, you felt arms wrap around you and pick you up. Not arms of a clicker, no, but arms that felt too familiar to your waist.

Joel spun you around, his chin resting in the crook of your neck from behind. The roles were reversed, he was now the one with the laughing fit and you were the unamused one. You had let a few 'let me go!'s escape your lips, trying your best to stay upset, though it didn't work for long. Joel set you down after a few more spins, trying his best not to fall over from the dizziness.

Things between the two of you were complicated, you hooked up all the time but were nothing official. It felt weird, making things official during a time like this. Nobody wanted to care for someone too much, since they didn't know what tomorrow would bring. It was a mutual feeling, you were sure of it, you just didn't know what to do about it.

"I hated that." You flatly-as-possible said that to him, as you turned and faced him. He met your gaze, you could stare into his eyes all day. "That's what you get." He had simply replied to you with, this earned a confused look and a raised eyebrow from you, "Excuse me?" Joel could only hold his smile back, "They were too small, should've at least thrown over the right size."

For fuck sakes, Joel Miller. You slapped him on the shoulder after he broke the shared gaze and walked off, yelling a 'Christ, Joel!' as you chased after him. He drove you crazy, and he knew that. Not a bad crazy, not anything close to that. Whatever crazy it may be, it was mutual.

With another hour of scavenging under the two of yours' belts, you both grew tired. You were still wet from outside, your hair had started to dry, though. Both Joel and you had found an upstairs to the grocery store, it looked to be an employee break room or something like that. You had brought up a few blankets, candles and matches, and a change of clothes. You had set up the candles around your room, not as a romantic gesture, but as a light source. Obviously the power wasn't working, and the two of you needed to see what you were doing.

Joel had set up the blankets by the time the last candle was lit, a proud look to his face. You took notice, as you shrugged off your bag and bent down to untie your boots. "You're a great blanket-layer, Mister Miller." He tsked when you had said that, "No need to remind me." He took notice of you starting to unzip your pants, and push them down. He rose his brow, waiting for you to explain what you were doing.

You took notice of this after you had removed your pants, and stood back up to get your shirt, "What? I'm soaked." Joel had completely forgot about that, in all honesty. His clothes were soaked through as well, no doubt in that, he was just too caught up in the moment with you that he had pushed it to the side. He had removed his shirt as you took yours off, if someone else was to see this, they would definitely think something else was happening.

You two had stripped down to just your undergarments and towel-dried yourselves off. God bless Walgreens for carrying everything, you had thought to yourself. In no time, the two of you were dressed back up in comfortable clothes for the time being, making an unspoken decision that you guys would spend the night.

You were the first one to lay down on top of the blankets Joel had set up, Joel was looking through his bag for something. "Can we just stay here forever, you'n me?" You asked, eyes closed and sprawled out. He could only chuckle in response, "What 'bout Ellie?" Shit, you had forgotten about her. You were too caught up being with just Joel that you had forgot Ellie was at home, probably wondering where the fuck the two of you were. "Pass me the walkie," You asked, "Let me call her."

That was what you did, you went onto the right channel and began talking into the walkie talkie. It took a minute or two until you actually got a response from Ellie. She had made sure you two were fine, and not 'absolutely fucking deceased' (her words, not yours). With much reassurance and whatnot, you soon bid your farewells to her, and had promised you would be back the following day. Ellie had also made the comment saying not to 'come back knocked up', sounding like your mother. This earned Joel to yell at her from the background, but only made you laugh. You loved that kid, like your own.

You placed the walkie down, moving to one side of the not-so-bed bed. "Joel," You groaned, "Hurry up, I'm freezing." You complained. You were in wet clothes for hours, you were bound to be frostbitten at this point. Joel was your heat source for tonight, though he didn't mind, not one bit. With you basically cuddled up to him the entire night, it brought ease to him sleeping.

He shortly lay down beside you, stretching his arm out which had only caused you to lay on his chest. He was chewing something, it smelled too familiar. "What're you eating?" You had hummed, a yawn following your question. "Dried plum." He only replied, doing everything in his power to suppress his grin.

You shook your head, well, as much as you could with your head laying on Joel's chest. "Where the fuck did you even get dried out plums? That's the stupidest thing ever." Joel didn't think it was, plums were his favourite fruit- he wouldn't say anything about that, though, not yet. If you didn't want to eat any plums, he would help you out. This was another case of the olive theory. "One of Maria's friends does 'em, seriously, you should try 'em."

You bickered with him about it for a moment, dropping it the next. Joel loved when you bickered with him, it made you two sound like an old, married couple- though you weren't, not yet. He loved how you would rant on about your hate for plums, or what you had done during the day throughout Jackson. He was just happy to be finally alone with you, not being able to handle anymore time spent not by your side.

—

finally alone, mac demarco

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popponn · 7 months

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a fool in love. [isagi yoichi x f!reader]

notes: no listen downbad!yoichi is kind of a walking disaster because this is the kind of guy that goes 'oh making you happy makes me happy' and he is mister egoist who goes a bit unhinged whenever he wants something do you get it. it's kind of doomed in a very cute way. (aka this is a fit of madness pt three. the only thing im willing to examine with seriousness here are isagi yoichi's deep blue eyes.)

You knew it wasn’t as if it was a bad thing. But, in a way, as happy as Yoichi makes you—you kind of wish he doesn’t turn off half of his brain when it came to you.

So far, the most often times he could do that was when soccer came up. And most of them ended up with longing stare and him turning his head back one last time as if saying 'sorry'. One time, you actually ended up throwing a snot soaked tissue because he felt bad leaving for practice when you were bedridden with a flu. It was adorable, but honestly a bit pathetic, in a cute way.

Though, those moments are indeed cute when you compared them to the others.

“I’m craving something salty and buttery,” you said at 2.34 am and you had to physically restrain him from cooking for you. Doing that to an athlete on his prime while being half asleep taught your backbone that it was a terrible idea. It made cracking noises for a week straight.

“Oh, that shirt is cute,” you once praised the white t-shirt he wore while lounging around with his friends in the living room. Suddenly, it was his favorite shirt. Last month, thankfully, that old, greying thing was replaced by another t-shirt you bought him before it had seven holes in them.

“God, I fucking hate him,” you would mindlessly comment about someone and Yoichi’s mouth went on a field trip. This happened around way too much already. One time happened when you said this half-jokingly after his match and high adrenaline Yoichi thinking someone genuinely did something to you was a sight. Hot, but unsuited for public consumption.

At this point, you really didn’t want to know what the line was for him outside of his soccer. It also didn’t help that it seems like most of his friends—especially Bachira—are a bunch of shit stirrers who supports him.

“You know, it’s sweet and stuffs,” you sighed, one day, deciding that being honest is the best way to go. “But, I really wonder, why you are like that sometimes?”

Yoichi, who walked beside you whilst pushing the shopping basket in one hand, smiled bashfully. “Uh, well—I got… carried away sometimes?”

“Definitely,” you sent him an unamused glance whilst showing him the shopping list written in his phone. “It’s not that I hate every time you do it. I just want to know why.”

Yoichi laughed nervously at that, averting his eyes away from you as he grabbed a pack of butter from his right. It took him sometime to answer, and as he did so Yoichi’s expression turned nostalgic and fond, “Remember when you said that you wouldn’t want me to lose my focus on soccer even if we are together?”

“Ah.” You did remember it. It was a long conversation that was both necessary and heavy back then. At this moment, though, it became just another chapter in your life with Yoichi.

“Well, I kind of swear to myself after that—” Yoichi stopped walking and turned towards you, looking at you through his blue eyes with many promises and softness. It took everything in you to not hide as he continued, “—that I will make you the happiest person on earth even with everything going on. So, yeah?”

And suddenly, you found yourself very lucky. “Oh.”

“And also, uh, I like how it feels when I spoil you and stuffs…? ” Yoichi murmured almost inaudibly, sounding unsure and embarrassed, before quickly laughing it off in the boyish manner you had came to known since long ago. A hand warped itself around yours and Yoichi smiled, a hint of red still coloring his cheeks, “So, uh. You know.”

Like a second nature, you intertwined your fingers along with him and gave him a smile just as shy and gentle in return, ”…seriously? You do it just because it makes you happy? Now, I’m sad.”

“And now you are just teasing me,” Yoichi replied easily. Then, he leaned his head, peering into his phone in your hand, “What else do we have to buy?”

“Hmm…” you hummed, eyes not turning away from him. “I think we got it all.”

#bllk #bllk imagines #blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #bluelock x reader #blue lock scenarios #blue lock x reader #bllk fluff #isagi yoichi #isagi fluff #blue lock isagi #blue lock imagines #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #bllk isagi #im a bit unwell for him #please talk isagi to me........someone.... like he is sweet guy who knows what he wants. talk about cute and [redacted]#drabbles

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itsjaywalkers · 1 month

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laurie do you have any spare boxer!barty headcanons… from boxer james au…

SAINTS ANYTHING FOR U BABE U KNOW THIS

*cracks knuckles* okay so

he fights very methodically, almost like he's fucking possessed sometimes BUT his rivals still have a hard time reading him and predicting his moves bc he's also . reckless . and will break routine all of a sudden with the most dangerous combination u can think of

a lot of ppl are convinced he plays dirty or even cheats but the truth is that he's just Good and really fucking smart

as in, the thing about boxer barty is that he can get a read on his rivals during the first handful of seconds

yes he's strong yes he's a wild card and yes he has the technique but what makes him win at the end is his ability to . get into his opponent's head

the exception to this is james and not bc barty can't read him. it's simply that the hatred they profess each other is so visceral he just goes fucking Feral. both of them do

speaking of, they rarely get to finish their matches bc they always end up disqualified halfway through bc it gets Nasty pretty quickly when those two are involved

he's been on so many scandals. So Many. it's sort of ruined his reputation but his fans think is part of his charm

like . you know how athletes are very careful when it comes to their public images and take care of their bodies or whatever . yeah barty doesn't give a fuck about that and you WILL see a headline about him getting blackout drunk after one of his victories

this is mostly due to how controlling his father used to be back when barty was still under his thumb

in a way, most of what barty does has something to do with his father one way or another

everyone knows they had a very bad fallout like . it's public knowledge but since they don't have the details they're all soooo curious

interviewers know not to bring barty's dad up tho bc barty has flipped his shit before and on national television too so . they stray away from the topic completely

he's anti pr. his team has tried to clean up his act so many times. it never works. they've given up. at this point they're just ready to do some damage control

most of his money goes to his mother (his parents are divorced in this one and since his dad left her with pretty much nothing after they broke things off, barty took it upon himself to take care of her)

in fact, he lives with her

whenever barty loses a fight is Always on purpose

because he's obsessed with a certain nurse.. so he lets himself get beaten up from time to time just so he has an excuse to go see said nurse.. (it's evan. evan is the nurse)

evan is odd and offputing and he doesn't seem to like barty very much BUT he does seem to enjoy the sight of blood.. and analysing ppl's injuries even more than he does fixing them up.. so barty's happy to let him poke around

one time he lost a couple of teeth after a especially hard punch and while they tried to check his head and take him to the hospital barty's only concern was finding his lost teeth so he could bring them to evan

his friendship with regulus starts off as him finding reg Hot while simultaneously wanting to piss james off

but they end up Clicking and reg is the very first person barty opens up with about his dad + everything that happened with his mum

he had a thing with lily a while ago but it was mostly casual and he broke it off as soon as he found about her also sleeping with james.. they're still friends tho!! and barty is very fond of her

his first kiss with evan happens after he's dizzy and very out of it bc of the amount of blood evan just took from him (he spends more than a week thinking he dreamt it)

honestly most of his appointments with evan can be summarised by barty getting a lot of random erections and evan blinking at him with his dead brown eyes while he pokes around his body and worsens every single one of his injuries (before actually patching him up)

and im gonna stop myself there bc this is getting out of hand

#i hope it was up to ur expectations <3 #asks #saints tag #boxer james agenda

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miloformula123fan · 25 days

Text

okay like 2 months ago, I put out this moodboard, and @evans-dejong replied to it, and im gonna be honest that kind of inspired this whole fic

carlos sainz x male!royal!reader

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

carlos sainz x royal!reader

2022 Spanish Grand Prix

“AND George Russell has locked up at the final chicane and Carlos Sainz sails on through BRINGING HIM ONTO THE PODIUM OF HIS HOME RACE ON THE LAST LAP OF THE SPANISH GRAND PRIX. AND WHAT A RACE THAT WAS. Max Verstappen crossed the finish line first, followed by his teammate Sergio Perez, and rounding out the podium we have Carlos Sainz for ferrari.”

It had been a hard race, Carlos spinning in the first 8 laps. But he’d done a very good recovery drive, getting up to the podium.

Y/N couldn’t help but clap his hands as he saw a ferrari and a spanish driver on the podium from the back of the Ferrari garage. He saw himself on the screens, and flashed a winning smile. His mum looked at him with exasperated fondness as he hopped around waiting for the drivers to get on the podium, so she could hand the trophies over. He’d been looking forward to it all weekend, the previous highlight being handing off the pole position award to the other ferrari driver.

“And now to present the trophies to the drivers on the podium, we have Crown Prince Y/N, representing the Spanish Royal Family.”

Y/N could almost feel his hands shaking as he picked up the 3rd place trophy and prepared to hand it over. He ran himself through what he was supposed to do

‘Pick up the trophy, display it to the cameras, don’t drop it, first to the person closest, they’re 3rd place, hopefully you’ve picked up the correct trophy Y/N, then as you’re handing it over, shake their hand, congratulate the spaniard, pose for a photo handing over the trophy, and then walk back. Repeat for 2nd place, they’re the one furthest away, not a Spaniard, repeat for team, it’s the mechanic who looks hella awkward on the really small podium, and finally do it for 1st. Then get out of the way before they start spraying champagne.’

And it almost entirely went to plan. He had nearly kissed the Spanish driver on the podium, because damn he was hot. But otherwise it had gone to plan.

Well, until, while trying to get out of the way and completing his task, he had gotten sprayed on the back of his new shirt. Damn.

He heard the cheers and yelling stop as everyone realised that he had been hit. Y/N snickered in his head at the thought that people were scared of him, worried that because he’d been hit by some champagne, that everyone would be executed. Instead he laughed it off, grabbed Carlos’ bottle and took a chug before wandering off the podium, laughing at the ruined shirt. His mother chastised him and fussed over him as he walked away laughing.

The Spanish ferrari driver was hot, sue him.

---

2022 Silverstone

“AND IN HIS 150TH RACE, CARLOS SAINZ WINS THE BRITISH GRAND PRIX. HIS FIRST VICTORY IN F1”

Y/N could hear the cheers, the announcement was a little blurred as he hugged Carlos O, Carlos’ cousin and manager, after waving the spanish flag through a gap in the fence, yelling and cheering over the noise of the engines. There wasn’t a lot of celebration in the garage, as Charles, who was contending for the championship, had had a horrible race, but who cared? Carlos had won, at least Red Bull hadn’t won, they were still contending for the championship.

“And what a day for Ferrari, but they won with the wrong car!” Ted shouted into his microphone as the celebrations kicked on.

“I’m sorry?”

“Uhh, sorry to everyone at home we now have Crown Prince Y/N from the Spanish Royal Family. Now Your Royal Highness, what did you say?”

“Well first, my title is Prince of Asturias. Not this ‘Your Royal Highness’ bullshit that you’re trying to lower my status to…”

“Sorry, language for the kids at home.”

“Oh, says you, Ted Kravitz. Hi Kids, my name is Crown Prince Y/N, or the Prince of Asturias, and I’m going to give you a… what’s the word…unbiased view of the grand prix today. Charles and Max were struggling today. Then there was a safety car, and Carlos was given a better strategy. Now, keep in mind kids, this was because Charles was not having a great day. Then Carlos was once again screwed over by Ferrari strategists, however for once in his life he stood up for himself, and made himself a good strategy and won himself the race. His first race win, after 150 race starts. There is no wrong driver to win with for Ferrari, and Carlos deserved that win as much as Charles did. Thanks Tommy.”

“It’s Ted…”

Y/N waited in Carlos’ driver room for him to arrive back from the media. Carlos meanwhile had been told by his cousin that Y/N was waiting for him, and tried to pass off his impatience as excitement over the win. He had barely seen Y/N since the win, being celebrated with his team, but he had spotted him on Carlos O and Carlos Sr. shoulders, cheering with the other Ferrari engineers, and butchering his own national anthem, which was always fun to watch. But he hadn’t seen him properly, been able to hold him and scream and kiss him.

And he couldn’t wait for that.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he reached the door of his driver room. He could sense Y/N behind that door, actually he could hear him, chatting to what he assumed were his younger sisters and parents.

He slowly opened the door, pushing it with his hips as his hands held his water bottle and his trophy.

He watched for a second, not wanting to disturb Y/N, especially if he was saying something royal that he wasn’t supposed to hear.

Y/N was lying on his stomach on the massage bed, his feet hanging off the end as he had propped his phone up against the wall. His feet were kicked up in the air, swinging backwards and forwards, as his head, which he was holding up by his hands, was bopping side to side as he talked to his family.

“Yeah, so just waiting for him to finish his post race debriefs and media and then he’ll be here soon, and I’ll hang up then, I don't want to scare Leonor again. By the way, Leo, how’s Gavi going? Feel like the last I heard was from some media article about how he wanted to focus on football and didn’t want a girlfriend distracting him, but I'm sure you’ve managed to persuade him otherwise…”

While Y/N was teasing his younger sister, he was cut off by his (quite unmanly) screams as Carlos grabbed him from behind and hugged him to his chest, swinging him back and forth.

Once he had reassured both his family and the bodyguards who had burst into the room with their guns drawn that he was fine and Carlos had just scared him, he hung up the facetime call and snuggled in with Carlos on the small massage table, and admired the trophy.

“It’s pretty…” his hand hovered over all the details “like you mi amor.”

“...huh, most people would describe me as handsome rather than pretty, mi vida”

“Not me, you’re my pretty boy.”

---

Silverstone 2023

“Hello! You must be Lando!” Y/N walked towards the Mclaren boy and gave him a hug.

“You're the crown prince of Spain.”

“Wow, he’s observant eh Chilli?”

“Mate, i mean this in the nicest way possible, how the fuck did you manage to bag the crown prince of spain?”

“I think the real question you should be asking is how I managed to bag the most attractive f1 driver?”

“Have you seen Fernando?”

“Good point. The most attractive Spanish f1… no no, that doesn’t work. Uhhhh, the second most attractive F1 driver.”

“what?”

"nothing darling, good luck for your race Lando and nice to meet you!"

---

Singapore 2023

“AND RUSSELL IS IN THE WALL. GEORGE RUSSELL IS IN THE WALL AND CARLOS SAINZ IS GOING TO TAKE VICTORY FOR THE SECOND TIME IN AMAZING CIRCUMSTANCES. SO FAR THE ONLY NON RED BULL DRIVER TO WIN A RACE THIS YEAR”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD!” Y/N couldn’t help screaming through the ferrari garage as the entire ferrari garage erupted as Carlos crossed the line first. His bodyguards were clearly trying to reach him, but he didn’t care as he gave a massive hug to every mechanic and an even bigger one to Fred as he kept screaming his head off.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD YES! VAMOS YES!”

He was gonna lose it. Carlos had won a race. And this one for so many more reasons felt better than the Silverstone win. No disputes about team orders or who was the better driver.

Carlos had done it all on merit.

Once again he was hoisted up on the Carlos’ shoulders to horribly butcher his own national anthem. He could see his bodyguards trying to push through the throng of mechanics, but the mechanics were pushing back equally as hard. Well if his bodyguards couldn’t get through a crowd of overexcited mechanics, then maybe that was a sign he needed new bodyguards. First one’s who could get through a crowd when necessary, but also ones who understood that he could do what he wanted. He saw the cameras, flicking between the 2 of them singing to each other horribly, but he didn’t care. So what if these photos and videos were all over the tabloids tomorrow.

Tonight was their night.

And nothing could change that.

nothing.

---

Spain 2024

Y/N walked onto the podium again, remembering how 2 years ago he had walked onto this stage and met the love of his life at that time.

Except this time, he was standing with the spanish flag around his shoulders, on the P1 spot, instead of the P3 spot as he was 2 years ago. His smile was bigger, and the cheers were louder, especially with Fernando Alonso in P2.

As Y/N handed off the P3 trophy to a grumpy Max Verstappen, a P2 trophy to an elated Fernando Alonso, who gave him a massive hug and shake as they jumped up and down. Very different from 2 years ago.

And after giving a constructors trophy to a confused team member, finally it was Carlos’ turn. Y/N smiled as he handed over the trophy, adoring the goofy grin on his face. He also hugged him, and Y/N only cringed slightly at the sweat that was now on his suit.

It’s okay. He was never expected to wear this suit again.

He barely got out of the spray zone before the champagne spraying had begun. At least as he thought.

He let out a very unroyal scream as he felt the cold champagne trickle down his back, turning around to the silence with Fernando having a cheeky grin on his face (this seems hella clunky). The rest of the paddock and the podium was frozen, as if worried that he was going to order Fernando’s execution. Instead, he held his hand out, as his mother passed him a bottle of champagne that he proceeded to spray straight in Fernando’s face.

And then as the champagne started to drain, Carlos leaned over and kissed Y/N square on the lips. First official show of affection, and as Carlos pulled away and flashed the cheeky grin at Y/N, he thought about how the royal PR people would be scrambling to confirm that yes, Carlos was courting the crown prince of Spain.

But he didn’t care

So he leaned in and kissed him again.

Y/N walked onto the podium again, remembering how 2 years ago he had walked onto this stage and met the love of his life at that time.

As Y/N handed off the P3 trophy to a grumpy Max Verstappen, a P2 trophy to an elated Fernando Alonso, who gave him a massive hug and shake as they jumped up and down. Very different from 2 years ago.

It’s okay. He was never expected to wear this suit again.

He barely got out of the spray zone before the champagne spraying had begun. At least as he thought.

But he didn’t care

So he leaned in and kissed him again.

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3, @badblondebisexualboy, @ghostking4m

#f1 x reader #miloformula123fan #f1 fanfic #f1 x male reader #f1 fic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x male reader #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n

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normal-internet-user · 1 year

Text

BARRIER

♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡

Pt: 2

Summary: You have a talk with Raph on the roof of your apartment from the othetside of a brick wall.

Warnings: Swearing, smoking on Reader's part, and dark humor.

Requested: Nope!

GN Reader!

.........................................

You let out a sigh as you leaned against the cold brick wall on the roof of your apartment complex.

You had just gotten off the phone with your dad, and now you really needed a cigarette.

You pulled the pack out of your jacket pocket, taking one of the cancer sticks and lighting it.

You had tried to quit before, it never really worked, god addiction was a bitch. You sighed in ectasy as you breathed in the nicotine.

"Fuck my life." you muttered lowly as you looked out over the city. You closed your eyes as you listened to the busy streets below. Ah, New York, the city that never sleeps.

You rubbed your temple with a groan, sometimes yoh just wish it could be quiet. But you lived in a city for gods sake, it was never quiet.

You didn't hate it here though, on the contrary, you loved New York, city life was just a pain sometimes.

You took another drag of your cigarette, blowing the smoke skyward as you pondered your earlier conversation.

Why the hell did your dad feel the need to be such an ass? He was always belittling you and your accomplishments.

Well you should have done this. Why didn't you do this. You should try to do this.

It's exhausting!

"No wonder, Mom left." you muttered grumpily.

You looked skyward with your eyes closed, peeking one open when you heard a noise on the other side of the brick wall.

You strained your ears, trying to listen for more sounds. You sat up when you heard someone grumbling under their breath.

"Stupid brothers... Don't know what the hell they're talkin about."

You looked at the wall curiously, listening to them grumble. Should you say something? Maybe peek over the wall?

You leaned back against the wall, taking another puff from your cancer stick.

"Family trouble?" You said, trying to gain the attention of whoever was on the otherside of the wall.

"Who's there?"

You flicked the ash off your cigarette, chuckling lowly, "Relax hotshot, I ain't gonna hurt ya. I'm over the wall. Just figured it be nice to talk to someone who's also got some family issues."

You heard a thump, letting you know that mystery man had sat down.

"My question still stands. Who's there?"

"(Name). I'm (Name). And who exactly am I playing therapist for?"

You heard him chuckle, you could hear his smile in the sound, 'Cute', "The name's Raph."

"Well, Raph, what exactly has you panties in a twist, huh?"

Raph huffed, and began to rant about his older brother. Leonardo, you learned his name was as you sat and listened.

You snuffed out your cigarette, then pulled another from the pack. Chain smoking was a bad habit of yours.

Raph stopped his rant, and you heard him sniff, "Are you smoking?"

"Hey, people cope in different ways my friend. Besides quiting this shit is about as easy as catching a fly with chopsticks." you chuckled, blowing the smoke skyward.

Raph snorted, "Fair enough I guess. but you'd be surprised how easy it is to catch a fly with chopsticks."

"Oh, really? you ever done that?"

"Sure have, with reflexes like mine it's easy as pie."

You laughed, "Ohoho, you sure are tootin' your own horn, huh, Hotshot? What are you some kinda ninja?"

"You could, uh- you could say that."

You hummed as you puffed your cigarette, "Well then Karate Kid, you got any other family issues? You got a little while left, my cigarette is still fresh."

"Nah, I'm all out for now. What about you smartass? What's got you up here smokin' your worries away?"

You sighed, balancing your elbow on your knee, with your face in your palm, "My dad called me a little while ago. He can be a bit of an over acheiving hardass. The bastard expects me to be the same way."

"You don't sound to fond of your old man, why do you still talk to 'im?"

"I-I don't really know..." you hesitated, "He's the only family I have left, if I cut him off then I'm all alone."

You took one last puff of your cigarette, before putting it out on the concrete roof.

"My cig's out. Guess that means I gotta go to bed, man I hate work."

"Heh, tell ya what, (Name), I'll be here again on Friday. Talk to ya then, ok? You can tell me all about your old man."

You smiled, "Sure thing, Hotshot. See you on Friday."

With that you walked away from the wall, and down the stairs into your apartment complex.

.........................................

Perhaps the start of a new series 👀👀 hmm we'll see...

#tmnt #x reader #tmnt x reader #raphael x reader #tmnt bayverse #teenage mutant ninja turtles bayverse #bayverse tmnt x reader #bayverse raph #tmnt 2014 x reader #tmnt 2016

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builtbybrokenbells · 6 months

Text

Catch-22 | i

It always feels like the harder you try to forget, the more you seem to remember.

Masterlist

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: talks about sexual situations, mentions of hookups, talk of general sadness/heartbreak/breakups, mentions of mean girls/high school bullies, poor-self image/insecurity, small town drama, touch of angst, drinking, swearing, sorry if i miss any!

hello darlings 😁 im so excited to start this new adventure with you all. a bit of a slowburn but i hope that it will be worth it in time. as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!

The air was chilly, nipping at your exposed skin to remind you of the seasons change, but it was not yet cold enough to be truly bothersome. The night sky was polluted with city lights and the sidewalks were littered with faces of vague familiarity, forcing you to recall a lifetime that you had lived long ago. The town was covered in a haze of melancholic grey, haunting you with years of memories that you had been trying so hard to forget. Your hometown was a place that you had been constantly trying to run away from, something that you had been dreaming of leaving behind for more, yet every holiday season you found yourself back in the same place, wondering if it would ever possible to cleanse yourself of the curses of a small town.

Your bedroom of your childhood home was the same, plastered with posters and photographs of people you hadn’t spoken to in years. You slept under the same comforter that your high-school self had picked out from a Walmart shelf, sixteen and in love with the tasteless pattern mostly because it was new and your very own, rather than one of your sisters well worn hand-me downs. Your pillows held memories of ex-boyfriends and friends that had all broken your heart, even after endless sleepovers and nights spent pouring your souls into each other. Your graduation cap and honours cords decorated your computer desk, and your abhorrent wardrobe was still hung in your closet alongside the embarrassing prom and homecoming dresses. Your parents sat in the same spots in the living room, effectively ignoring each other while trying to force themselves to fall back in love for the greater good of the family. They hadn’t touched a single thing in your room since you moved out.

It was familiar, comfortable, but it was a world you no longer wished to live in. Sure, the memories would be something fond to look back on when you were eighty and reminiscing about your youth while staring death in the face, but as a 23 year old who was eager to step into the real world, it was nothing short of an evocative ode to the person you forever wished you could destroy. You didn’t hate yourself in high school like many others did, at least not seriously; of course, there was a struggle with self image and insecurities, but what teenage girl did not face such problems? You were far from perfect, and you were definitely not a part of the popular clique (Which was just another small town narrative that drove you crazy), but you were alright with what you had made yourself to be all those years ago. You were a selfless soul who loved learning, a great friend who would sacrifice your own happiness if it were for another in need, and one who did fantastically in everything she set her mind to.

It was not your person that made you so eager for change, but rather the lack thereof. You were perfectly mediocre, someone who always flew just under the radar and never stood out. You wanted to be memorable, a person in which others would think of in decades to come, and you knew that the only way to do that was to leave everything behind. Mediocrity would forever become you in a town where it was cherished, and deep down, you knew that you were destined for something greater. Unfortunately, until your university degree was in your hand, you were forced to return home for the holidays. You were not yet able to move across the state and disappear from everyone’s memory, even if it was something you desperately craved.

As you walked, you questioned yourself on your own decisions. Why, especially after reiterating your opinion on your hometown in your mind, did you feel the need to agree to a night of drinking with a group of girls you hadn’t seen in years? At first, it seemed like a fantastic idea, a chance to catch up with people who reminded you of childhood innocence, but as you neared the bar, you felt dread settle in your stomach. These people had no idea who you were, and barely did even when they spent every day with you in grade school. Your lives were worlds apart; some were settled down with kids, some were still living with their parents while trying to relive senior year every weekend despite it being almost half a decade ago. Some had graduated college and started their full time jobs, but none of them were the type of people you wanted to associate with anymore.

Yet, you couldn’t seem to say no. Your generosity was your greatest strength, but somehow also your biggest weakness.

You knew that the night would not be horrible. Mind-numbing, perhaps, but survivable. You would sit and listen to their accomplishments, learn the names of their kids who you would never meet, and you might even share your own stories of life after high school. You would recall old memories, maybe even learn some new ones, and you would get to hear all about the people they loathed in your younger years. Then, you would all go your separate ways and maybe see each other at the ten-year high school reunion. It was predictable, but so were all of the small town dwellers who never took the leap of faith in changing. You would go home and sleep it off, and they would gossip about you over coffee at the shitty cafe down the street the next morning. It was inevitable, unpleasant, yet still seemed more appealing than trying to do schoolwork while listening to your parents passive-aggressive talk about things that were less than important in the background.

You checked your makeup in the camera of your phone, swiping away any specs of mascara and smudged lipstick before entering the bar. You weren’t willing to give them any fuel to talk behind your back once you went home. You had even put on a nice skirt and a shirt that was a little out of your comfort zone for the occasion. You knew you didn’t have to prove anything to anyone, but growing up alongside a sea of cheerleaders and athletes had severely impacted your self confidence. You were average in every aspect; your younger self was a little bigger than most in terms of weight. You had glasses and poor makeup skills, always trying to cover your acne yet only ever making it more obvious. You never dressed up, and most often dressed down, and you were so involved in academics that you never bothered much with a social life beyond your small group. You hated school dances, and your family never had the extra money to spend on any extracurricular activities. With three children, you couldn’t blame them; you knew that you and your sisters had a good life, even if you had to miss out on some things here and there.

You were not bullied, but your peers were certainly not overly friendly nor concerned with your existence. Since then, you weren’t shy to admit that your appearance had drastically improved. Not in any grand sense, but your metabolism finally caught up to speed, your skin cleared, you learned some tricks with makeup brush and had discovered contact lenses. Maybe your agreement to join them had less to do with your fear of saying no, and more to do with your desire to prove your worth. If they were going to talk, you hoped that you could at least give them something good to say.

You opened the door, drawing in a long breath to settle your thoughts as you were slapped in the face with the warmth of the air inside. You could hear music drifting through the sound system, likely a song from the same playlist they were using the last time you had visited over a year prior. Originality was not something that was greatly cherished, and the regulars would probably still hoot and holler for songs they had heard ten times that night alone. The bar was lit with dim lamps shining from underneath the liquor wall and the neon projections from the dance floor. It was so predictable, yet you still found an unexplainable charm in it. It was one of the few bars that remained standing amidst a nasty fight for business, and it had been open since your parents enjoyed a night on the town (which was a very long time ago). Still, the staff was friendly and every now and again there was a diamond in the rough that sang when they broke out the karaoke machine. It wasn’t miserable, but it was nothing like the bars you were used to in your university town.

You slipped your coat from your shoulders, already finding it too warm inside, and fought your way through the crowd to the bar. You pulled a twenty from your wallet, anxiously awaiting your turn to order. Eventually, after a few moments of watching them sling pitchers of draft beer across the countertop, a bartender made her way towards you. “What can I get you, honey?” She asked, a blinding smile on her face. You wanted to believe it was genuine, but you knew that it was likely an act to coerce a tip from you. Either way, the kindness was appreciated, especially when you were feeling so jittery.

“Just a double vodka soda for now, please.” You said, drumming your fingertips against the countertop. She gave a curt nod, rushing away to fix the drink. Whether her speed was because she wanted to get rid of you or because she wanted to provide five-star customer service was neither here nor there. Within a minute, she sat a frosty glass of liquid courage before you and was already offering to start a tab. With hesitancy, you slipped the bill back in your pocket and agreed to pay later, handing her your credit card instead. You were aiming for a drink and dash, but you figured you shouldn’t walk into an interaction with such negativity. For all you knew, the night could be the best time you had during your visit home.

‘That would be pathetic.’ You shut the thought down as soon as it surfaced.

With the glass in your hand, you turned towards the crowd. Your eyes scanned the bodies, aiming to locate your company for the night, but knowing that you would be just as content if they decided not to show. After a moment, you heard your name over the mess of drunken chatter and shitty music. Your head turned in the direction of the sound, locating a group of girls in a corner booth. You forced yourself to smile, sipping on your straw as you stepped towards them. A whirlwind of emotion struck you once you were within earshot of their conversation, only questioning yourself more as the seconds continued to pass by. Before you could convince yourself to turn and run, they slid over and invited you in.

“Well hello, y/n.” A bubbly blonde greeted. Her name was Beth, and in middle school, she had started dating a boy named Jack. You could recall the toxic, jealous display the two often engaged in and the cheating scandals that seemed to surface every other week. When you all graduated, he joined the military right after he popped the big question. They were married two months later and had their first kid seven months after the graduation ceremony. Now, she was a stay at home mom with three kids and a blog about her family life, which to you just seemed like a huge cry for help.

“Hi,” you smiled, settling into the booth.

“We were so happy to hear that you could make it.” Another girl spoke, Allyson (the ‘y’ was very much important to her identity as she liked to remind everyone, although you did remember her spelling it with an ‘I’ until high school), with fake ginger hair and so much plastic surgery that she was nearly unrecognizable in comparison to your early days. She came from a rich family, one who never taught her much about hard work or discipline. She considered herself a professional social media influencer, which she claimed paid for the mansion she now lived in. You all knew her parents gifted it to her, yet nobody seemed keen on calling her on her bullshit. But, she was gorgeous, and she did take some damn good pictures from what you had seen on her Instagram. You never minded her much in school.

“Yeah, I was really happy to get the invitation.” You forced through your teeth, still wondering why you came at all.

“How’s life at UMichigan?” The last woman spoke, voice quiet and genuinely curious. You looked to your side, eyes softening at the sight. It was your best friend from elementary school, someone in which you shared lots of dreams about being an astronaut over juice boxes and Barbie dream houses. You didn’t see much of her once middle school came around; she loved soccer, and you loved the library. The world played its part in your separation, yet there never seemed to be any ill feelings about the shattered friendship. Her name was Sarah, and she was admittedly still the prettiest woman you had ever seen. She went to community college and worked at a daycare somewhere around town. Strangely enough, even after years of radio silence in grade school, once you both graduated, you remained in contact. She was one of the few people from Frankenmuth that you kept any kind of contact with, even if it was minimal. (In truth, it was really only the occasional ‘how are you’ and funny pictures sent through social media, but contact is contact, right?)

“It’s good,” you nodded, already nearing the end of your drink. “Just a few more months and I’m done, so that’s exciting. The city is nice, and so are the people. It’s kind of like a home away from home.”

“What are you taking, again?” Allyson asked.

“Oh, English literature. Guess I never really grew out of my love for books.” You chuckled, stirring your ice around your glass with the straw.

“You did love to read,” Beth chuckled, fidgeting with her wedding ring. You wondered if she craved escape the same way you did, or if she ever wondered what life would be like if she didn’t rush herself into marriage. After the endless heartbreak her now husband seemed to cause her all those years ago, you doubted that she was any more than just content. People didn’t change that much, and you feared that she was still living the same reality as her high school self did.

“I did,” you agreed, feeling the awkwardness already begin to creep up on you. “What about you? Your kids are absolutely adorable, by the way.” You shifted the attention away from yourself, despising the empty small talk.

“Oh, thank you.” She gushed. You could tell that they were her pride and joy, and despite her potential distaste for the life she chose for herself, she had not one bit of regret for them. “I’m doing good, but they definitely keep me busy. Don’t have much time for anything else with them running around all of the time.”

“I can imagine.” You sympathized, wondering if her extended invitation was just an excuse to be a real person and have some alone time for ten minutes. “Love the blog, by the way. Your recipe page is my go to for any kind of get-together.” You could tell she needed the gratification, and you never minded dishing any out.

“Really?” She squeaked, almost like she couldn’t believe someone actually cared enough to read them.

“Of course.” You nodded. Maybe you had misjudged the situation, and catching up after so long wasn’t terribly bad. After all, you had all grown and changed so much that it was almost like getting to know each other all over again. “And Allyson, I saw you just got back from Bali not too long ago. How was that?”

“It was phenomenal.” She gushed, eager that the conversation was pointed in her direction. “Definitely my favourite place I’ve been so far.” You were almost sickened at the thought of footing her travel bill, but smiled despite your astonishment at the fact that she had the money to travel the world so freely. You were thankful that the bartender came to clear the table, prolonging your process of trying to think of another question. You all put in another drink order, knowing that intoxication would be key to making the night enjoyable. Stale air surrounded you as you waited for the next round of drinks, none of you sure of where to go from there. When your second double of the night was within reach, you could already feel the tension melting away in your shoulders.

“You look really good, y/n.” Sarah said, studying every detail your face had to offer. “University life is definitely for you.”

“Oh,” you gave a nervous laugh “thank you. I finally discovered the benefits of contact lenses, so that really helped.” You joked, recalling the bulky frames that used to sit on your nose. They were so horrendous that it was impossible to forget them.

“No, you look happier.” She replied, giving you a small smile.

“Yeah, I am.” You nodded, knowing that she had hit the nail on the head. Leaving town had done wonders for your mental well-being, and even more for your personal development. You were free to spend time with others just like yourself, and ones so different that they constantly challenged you to step out of your comfort zone. Different as adult was so much better than different as kids, because you never felt shamed or outcasted for your previously strange likes and interests. Different after eighteen was so unlike what you had known as a child, and you quickly learned that there were so many divergent personalities like your own waiting to be discovered. Back when you lived under your parents roof and knew nothing but your high school, you were well aware that if you didn’t fit in with the culture of the community, you were better off lying rather than showing your true colours. Small towns always seemed to beat any unconventional traits out of a person and they cherished likeness. There were thousands of people who resided in your town, yet they all seemed like the same personality, just in a different body.

“All it took was getting away from Frankenmuth.” Beth said, sending a wink your way.

“Or getting away from Sam Kiszka.” Allyson giggled, but you found her comment far from humorous. The name seemed to strike you like a gunshot, tearing through you and leaving little behind. You choked on your drink, sputtering and coughing to expel the liquid and hopefully his memory, too. You hadn’t heard the name in a long time, and if you had it your way, you would never hear it again.

“Stop,” Beth gave a gentle smack on her arm, but still found herself laughing alongside the other girl. You were too distracted to care about their pointed snickering, already pulled back into a violent confrontation in your mind over the one person you had promised to forget. It seemed that at the sound of his name alone, you could remember his spirit and his presence so clearly, like he was sat right in the booth beside you and no distance had ever separated you from him. You could hear his voice, the sound of his laughter, and you could feel his hand on your arm, gripping you tightly as he laughed at one of your stupid jokes. The air was stolen from your lungs, your own mind was suffocating you as it forced you to recall the memories.

It was almost funny, grieving someone so deeply while they were still alive and breathing. It was almost terrifying, knowing that after years of trying to forget, you only ever seemed to remember with more clarity.

“Do you ever hear from him?” The words pulled you back into reality, but the impact of his memory was so profound that reality did not even seem real. Your eyes flickered up to Beth’s face, unsure if they were asking out of curiosity, or if their plan was to torture you all along. You thought it best to just continue as if the topic hadn’t completely derailed your entire life in just a few seconds. You were never one to hang your dirty laundry on the line for everyone to see.

“No, never.” You shook your head, but it was a lie. Well, only partially. There was a stash of saved voicemails from him in your inbox, but they ended somewhere around your third year of university beginning. The sober version of yourself questioned why you would ever keep such things so easily accessible, as they were nothing but a trophy of your misery, but the drunkest version of you needed to hear them to go to sleep at night. There was an entire album of pictures of him saved deep in the stores of your phone, retrieved only on nights when you had too much wine and too little self control. There was a box of memories tied to a man who no longer knew if you were alive or dead stored in a box underneath your bed, just because you could never find the courage or the strength to discard them. So no, you weren’t lying when you said that you never heard from him, but you would be lying in saying that you had managed to rid yourself of him. Even when you begged yourself to forget, you never really wanted to let it all go. You promised yourself that with time, you would finally be free, but the time was nowhere near right yet, even if you wished it was. “He seems to be doing great for himself, though.”

“Oh my god, I know.” Allyson gushed, almost like she had been waiting to address the elephant in the room. It was a culture shock to everyone in the town to see you and Sam finally go your separate ways, and you were certain that it had been a common topic of discussion for the people left behind. “They’re all so hot now.”

“Hey,” you defended, the response automatic even if it wasn’t deserved. “Sam was… I mean, he was… they were all good looking.” You muttered, only digging yourself a deeper hole as you continued speaking. A chorus of giggles sounded from the booth, but you did not participate. You wished you could disappear, or even have the booth swallow you whole just to avoid any further embarrassment.

“Some things never change,” Beth sighed, reminiscing on an easier life.

“Did you ever meet anyone new?” Sarah asked, hoping to change topics to make it a little more digestible for you. As much as her concern for you was endearing, the time had long passed for any type of relief. You were now completely uninvolved in whatever the dynamic was at the table, instead thrown back into a whirlpool of emotions at the thought of the boy you hoped you would never have to see again. You should have known better than to accept the invitation, because small town girls only ever cared about gossip, and the legacy that you and Sam Kiszka had left on the town was too tempting for them to pass up.

“I mean, there were a couple flings, but nothing ever lasted long.” You whispered, burying yourself in the vodka soda to suppress the sour taste that was left in your mouth after speaking his name. “I don’t think dating is for me, anyway. Maybe in the future once I’m graduated and have a steady job, but just not right now.” You confessed, hoping that would be the end of the discussion.

“Don’t say that,” Allyson reached over, giving you a reassuring pat on the arm. “You never know what’s waiting for you. If you don’t want to date, just have some fun. No strings attached is a whole new world of possibilities.” She gave you a smirk, knowing that you were never the type for meaningless sex. They didn’t have to know you very well to know that; innocence was written all over you, even in the newest, most powerful version of yourself.

“You’re right,” you agreed, mostly just so you could move on, but you couldn’t deny that there was some truth in her statement. Maybe you had such a hard time forgetting because you wouldn’t allow yourself to learn about anything else. One night of nothing but fun seemed like a sure way to start moving forward, and after a year and a half of radio silence, you figured there could be no harm in trying.

“Oooh,” she wiggled her eyebrows, enticed by your intrigue. “Let me pick one for you, please.” She said, turning around and looking into the sea of people.

“Maybe not tonight.” You laughed, shaking your head at the absurdity of the situation. You were sat with three women in which you never thought you would speak to again, in the middle of a bar in your hometown that you hated with a passion, while your company begged you to let them pick you a one night stand. A dream would be the most logical explanation for the series of events, but your burning cheeks and nervous jitters were too strong to be a figment of your imagination.

“Why not tonight!” She exclaimed. “The sooner you learn that the world has more to offer than Sam Kiszka, the better you’ll feel.” She assured you. You gave a tight lipped smile, sipping the last of your drink away, knowing you shouldn’t protest the statement. If you did, you would only be further proving your ignorance to the truth, ultimately cementing your blind loyalty to someone who probably hadn’t given you a second thought in years. Still, even knowing you shouldn’t feel such a way, deep down you believed that the most the world could offer was Sam Kiszka, and you would be foolish for thinking otherwise. “Maybe we’ll get a few drinks into you, that’ll change your mind.” She said, signalling a bartender to the table.

And drink you did; it didn’t take long for the rosiness of your cheeks to change from embarrassment to tipsiness. The chatter about your love life died down and was replaced by humorous retellings of stories that had been long forgotten in your minds. Every now and again, Allyson would point to a man walking by in hopes that he would be suitable for your taste, but you always turned the other way. Along the way, you had switched from vodka to rum, and that was never a good thing for you. You were shocked at the lighthearted nature of the hangout, elated that you had decided to come, knowing that this would indeed be the most fun you had during your stay in Frankenmuth. The music only got better the drunker you got, and the bar seemed more and more inviting as you continued to sip away at the alcohol.

Somewhere around the sixth round of drinks, Allyson had convinced the crowd to move to the dance floor and further the fun. You were never one to dance, yet the rum coursing throughout your veins made it seem like a tempting endeavour. With a shot of tequila down and a lime wedge stuck between your lips, you were the first to make the move towards the swarm of bodies. Under the neon strobe lights, the world seemed like such a beautiful place, one in which no heartbreak or melancholic memory could touch you, nor could the weight of your hometown drag you down any further. Phones were out, snapping pictures of a night none of you ever envisioned for yourselves, but it would be one you would remember in years to come. Beth was free of the chains of motherhood for a night, Sarah was celebrating something none of you knew a thing about, Allyson was in search of a suitor for you and for herself, and for the first time in your entire life, Sam Kiszka was not even a thought in your mind.

It was so fantastic, that you even found yourself with your hands all over a nameless man who was quite easy on the eyes. He was tall, had a nice smile, and most importantly, was nothing like the boy you wanted to forget. There were few words shared between the two of you, but it seemed that the liquor was doing all of the work for you. You were both dancing, knowing that it didn’t matter what conversation you made, because you were both in search of the same thing; companionship for a single night, then leaving and never speaking again, just like it never happened at all. No Instagram follows, no Facebook stalking, or anything of the sorts. Just simple sexual pleasure without any further requirements. You would even be okay if he neglected telling you his name, because in truth, you did not care. You were only concerned in the ability of his hands, and perhaps even his mouth as long as there was a promise of him using it for anything but speaking.

When the song ended, he whisked you away to the bar to buy you another drink in hopes of winning you over. You did not have the heart to tell him that there was no need for any convincing, because you were more than ready to go home with him for the night. You took post on a bar stool, head swirling with endless possibilities. Your face was warm, and your eyes were glossy with intoxication. Much to your regular-selfs dismay, you would even be willing to compromise for a bathroom hookup just to avoid spending the entire night together. You were hammered, and it had been far too long since you had felt the hands of another. Your only rationale was that one time would not be the end of the world, and you likely wouldn’t remember most of it when the sun began shining in the sky again.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” He asked, leaning so close to you that your noses were nearly touching. There it was, the dreaded formalities expected before sexual intimacy. You hated it, and you hated getting to know people. Small talk killed you, and talk as simple as that was just dirt piling on top of the casket.

“Y/n,” you hummed, drinking down the fruity beverage the bartender had mixed for you. “What about you?”

“Austin,” he replied, eyes casting a heavy-lidded gaze over your face.

“I can work with that.” You smiled, wondering if he would take the final step toward the finish line, or if you would have to beat him to it.

“I’m sure you can.” He grinned, already showcasing excitement for what seemed like a certain agreement between the two of you. “Do you want to head back to my place?”

“I think that would be fine.” You nodded, inching closer to him. You wanted to kiss him, but you were afraid that the tension was so intense that you would not be able to contain yourself if you did.

“I’ll call us a cab.” He said, hand lingering on your hip with a burning touch. He pulled back, reaching into his pocket to grab his phone when you caught sight of a view that made your heart skip a beat. You shifted to the side, hopeful for a better look, even while knowing it was in your best interest to mind your own business and tend to your own needs, for once.

You squinted, trying to rid yourself of the double vision and focus in on your target. You leaned forward on your chair, eyebrows knitted together as you held onto the bar top for support. “Oh my god.” You audibly gasped, too drunk to hold back your shock. Your company gave you a look of confusion, unsure of what had caught your eye. When you didn’t answer, he turned his head to look in the direction of the disturbance. You waited, hoping that your eyes were deceiving you, but the longer you stared, the more familiar the long mop of curly hair seemed. When the subject in question turned to face the bartender rather than the body beside him, you thought you were going to be sick. You knew that big nose and that blinding smile, and you knew it far too well. It was one you hadn’t seen in years, but no amount of time would ever allow you to forget it. “I have to go.” You blurred out, rushing to your feet and nearly tripping over yourself to get away.

“Wait, did I do something?” Austin asked, completely clueless about anything that was happening.

“No, sorry, just have to go.” You muttered, pulling your jacket from the back of your chair. You grabbed your purse, scrambling away from the scene to try and locate the girls you had spent the evening with. Approaching the dance floor, your eyes landed on the group you had left behind. You scrambled towards them, frantic and breathless in hopes of saying goodbye. When you were a few feet away, a body stepped in front of them before you could reach them. Your eyes widened as you stepped backwards, knowing that there was no way in which you could continue forward with him in your way. He was short, his long brown hair cascading down his shoulders as he adorned a lazy smile. His face was so similar to someone you knew too well, so achingly beautiful and haunting in its familiarity.

You made it off of the dance floor, relieved to be free from an interaction you were absolutely unwilling to have. You let out a long exhale, turning towards the exit. You thought you were in the clear until you saw someone lingering by the main entrance, a dopey grin on his cheeks as he chatted up a group of people at a nearby booth. “Why are there so fucking many of them?!” You exclaimed to yourself, not even loud enough to reach your own ears over the music. You wondered if you could slip by unnoticed; maybe, if you put the hood of your jacket up, he wouldn’t even recognize you as you walked by. You thought it was your best chance at escape, not seeing any other way out of the grisly predicament you had found yourself in.

As you were slipping your coat on, you noticed the body by the door finishing up his conversation. Your heart sped, palms breaking into a sweat as you rushed to pull your hood up, but you were much too late. The boy had started to make his way towards you, his curious eyes settled on your face as he attempted to place your astounding familiarity. After a few seconds, his eyes lit up like he’d won the grand prize. He sped his pace, trying to reach you before he lost you. In a panic, you took a few steps backwards, recklessly trying to run before he could close in on you. Instead of a graceful disappearance, you had walked straight into someone standing a few feet behind you. Luckily, the person was not carrying a drink and there was no mess to be had. You figured you could mutter an apology and be on your way.

You turned, ready to rush out an apologetic comment for being so clumsy, but when your eyes landed on the face, you thought the ground was going to disappear from under you and the sky would come crashing down. Your stomach was positively sick with stress and your heart was on the verge of combusting. Your hands were shaking, no longer concerned with concealing your face, because there was no need to hide, anymore. You had been caught red handed, and by the absolute worst person out of them all. If you would have just mustered the courage for an awkward chat with one of the others, perhaps you would not have been so unlucky to run into Sam Kiszka himself, smiling down at you with a far away look in his eye.

“Long time no see, Rapunzel.” He gave you a small smirk, stealing the air directly from your lungs and effectively shattering your psyche.

Your house was still, not a peep to be heard from any of your siblings bedrooms nor your parents. The soft hum of the television could be heard if you listened hard enough. Your fathers snoring was extremely faint in the background, and the putter of rain against the steel roof enveloped the home in a cozy atmosphere. For a Saturday night, you were all tucked away considerably early with no better place to be. You had your record player on the lowest setting, giving an ambience in your room without disturbing any peace. A soft yellow light from a lamp by your beside was the only thing illuminating the room, and you were seconds away from sleep. That was, until a soft plunk of something hitting against your window scared you back into wakefulness.

You climbed from your bed, uncertain of the cause of the noise, yet having a sneaking suspicion rise in the back of your mind. As you peered into the darkness of the night, your heart gave an excited flutter as your eyes landed on the culprit. You cracked the window open, popping the screen out and gently leaning it against your wall. “Let down your hair, Rapunzel.” His voice was quiet, both of you fearful of being caught but never enough to sway your decision on seeing each other.

You reached down, extending your hands to him. He grabbed on to them and you helped him up, slowly letting go once you were certain he had a good grip on the windowsill. He pulled himself up, gracelessly tumbling inside through the small open area. “You’re stupid, you know.” You giggled, making sure to be as quiet as possible.

“You love it.” Sam said, looking down at you. There was a glimmer of adoration shining in his eye, one that told you he would be happy to insulted by you for the rest of his life. “My parents weren’t home, so I figured I’d come and see you.”

“Well, my parents are home, and they’ll kill us if we get caught.” He was barely listening to you, already sliding the window shut to lock out the cold air. He turned back to you, reaching out to cup your face in his hand. You melted into the feeling, knowing that it had realistically only been a day since you had felt his touch, but it felt more like an eternity.

“I would be more than happy to die if it meant it would be by your side, y/n.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes fluttered closed at the euphoric feeling, knowing that you too would be alright with dying as long as he was by your side.

“How are you, Samuel?” You asked, shifting uncomfortably on your feet as you tried to think of a way out of the conversation.

“Better now that you’re here.” He said, looking as if he wanted to reach out and touch you, yet knowing that he shouldn’t.

“Please, let’s not act like this is a joyous reunion.” You chuckled, averting your gaze to the floor. The longer you looked at him, the worse your chest ached.

“Come on, Princess. You knew it was bound to happen sooner or later.” He chuckled, looking down at you with the same adoration he had all of those years ago. His hair was longer now; you recalled the last time you saw him, when he had told you he was working on growing it out. You had seen pictures, but he was so much different in person. The childish nature of his face had long gone, replaced by the face of a man you no longer knew. It was horrific, astounding to know that everything had changed. He was not the same person you remembered him as, and it was a hard pill to swallow even if you had been telling yourself that for months.

But, just because you knew that Sam was not the same person who once was so important to you, did not mean that you wanted to accept the fact. As you continued staring at him, a lifetimes worth of memories flooded back to you, making home in your heart despite you desperately trying to keep them out. His eyes held familiarity, and a sense of home that you hadn’t felt since the last time he stood before you, and they were drawing you in further with every second that passed. You would forever break underneath the weight of your love for Sam, and even years after the initial heartbreak, the feeling never seemed to fade. It had been more than a year since you were last face to face with him, now accompanied by someone you knew absolutely nothing about, but there was a fizzle of joy in your heart to finally be in his presence again. You hated him, but you loved him despite the hatred, and that was the most wretched part about it. He knew you so wholly and completely that you despised him for it, yet it held an odd comfort that you had never felt with another. You never wanted anyone to know you as well as Sam, but most of the time, you did not even want him to know you so well.

“Guess I did,” you shrugged, looking down at the floor. “Can’t ever seem to stay away from each other.” It was the painful truth; no matter how far you ran, you could never get far enough away. Or, you ran so far that you made it all the way around the world, just to end up staring at the back of his head.

“You look stunning, y/n.” He said, almost seeming nervous to voice the compliment. “I miss you.”

“Thanks.” You mumbled, your cheeks turning red at the kind words. “I, uh… I miss you, too.”

“I left so many voicemails, and I never heard back. Just figured it would be best to give you some space. Didn’t realize it would turn into months, and then I was too scared to reach out.” He explained. You bit down on the inside of your lip, recalling the declined calls and unanswered messages. You felt horrible about it, yet you knew that it was ultimately for the best. Back then, you never pictured yourself coming face to face with him again. Maybe if you had at least given an amicable goodbye, it wouldn’t be so difficult to look him in the eyes. Then again, you could not blame yourself too harshly for leaving without a word, because god knows he deserved much less than a silent goodbye.

“Some things are better left unsaid, Sam.” You reminded, trying shake away the looming sadness that was hanging over your head. How can you love someone’s company and loathe it all the same?

“I know, and I don’t blame you.” He agreed, hoping that you knew he wasn’t angry. “Can I buy you a drink, maybe? I know it won’t make up for anything, but it’s the least I could do. It would be really nice to catch up.” You looked up, finally meeting his eyes. You wished you hadn’t, because the pain he held in his gaze was too much to bear. It was the same one you had been carrying around for so long. You wanted to say yes, to let the past remain the past and move forward somehow, but you felt frozen. It would be nice to hear about his life, to say hello to his brothers, and Danny. ‘Sweet Danny’ you thought, another wave of grief washing over you. You missed him so badly, and you craved to rekindle your friendship with him, but he had always been Sam’s friend, first. It would not be fair for you to impede on their relationship for any selfish reason, and selfishness seemed to be all you knew when it came to Sam.

“No,” you shook your head, the weight of your rejection heavy in the air. “No, Sam. I have to get home.”

“Oh,” he attempted to cover his hurt with the word, but it only made it all the more clear. “Yeah, okay. Maybe some other time?” It was not likely that you would ever be willing to make plans with him in the future, but you could not seem to break the bad news to him. Instead, a little white lie would solve your immediate problems, and you could continue on trying to pretend he did not exist. That way, you would never actually need to confront the issue. Avoidance was a game the two of you had mastered, and you only thought it right to keep up the same energy.

“Sure, Sam. Some other time.” You nodded, already stepping away from him. “Have a good night.”

“You too, y/n. It was good seeing you.” He said, wishing he could find the right words to convince you to stay. Instead, he watched as you disappeared into the sea of people, wondering if he would ever get the chance to see you again.

You pushed through the door, tumbling into the night as tears threatened your eyes. Your heart was heavy, so heavy that you were having trouble placing one foot in front of the other due to the sheer weight of it. You pulled your jacket closer to your body, trying to keep out the cold and exile the lingering feeling of his company. You wished that you had declined the girls invitation, not because of any reason you previously thought you would, but because you knew that the innocent reunion with Sam would hinder your healing and bring you right back to square one. The hardest part about being in love with Sam was not actually loving him, but rather falling out of love with him. You had been trying for years, and every time you thought you made progress, it would ultimately be for nothing, because something else would come along that would make you fall in love all over again.

As you walked back to your childhood home, the streets reminding you of the version of yourself you were desperate to kill, you realized that your hatred for Frankenmuth had little to do with your need for change. You weren’t eager to leave because of the gossip, nor the close-minded nature of the population, and not even because of the lack of substance. Your hometown was quite beautiful if you knew where to look, and held charm like no other. It was not the worst place in the world, and in truth, it was quite far from it. Your desperation to leave was directly accredited to your desire to forget Sam Kiszka. You wished to purge yourself of his memory and erase him from your life. You craved to be a new person, one who his hand never had the opportunity to touch, and one who was strong enough to break from the incessant cycle that you had been stuck in since the beginning of time. The person you wished not to be was not the one who grew up in a small town in Michigan, it was the one who fell irrevocably and unequivocally in love with Sam.

As you wiped a tear from your cheek, you were terrified that you would never see a lifetime in which he did not exist. Above all else, you feared that even if you escaped the town and the shackles in which it held you with, you would still never be free from the curse of loving Sam Kiszka with every fibre of your being.

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