#another year older and none the wiser

[snowpeachgirl]

#been a minute #another year older and none the wiser #self #transisbeautiful #me #trans #transgirl #transwomen

[being-worthy]

Today in exactly one week, it’ll be day I was born - same time and same day! In one week!! Is that maybe some kind of omen?

#my birthday #another year older #and none the wiser

[putellasawfc]

exposed !

jen beattie x arsenal!reader

( a/n: omgggg this has been in the works FOREVER, before jen announced leaving arsenal which i am still not over tbh. but it’s finally here! especially dedicated to @mccabeswife since she requested it ! i hope you enjoy ! )

-

another media day at the arsenal training grounds meant a lot of bored footballers sat around waiting for their turn in front of the camera, the current youtube video being filmed was for three pairs only, another one of those ‘guess what the person is saying whilst you wear sound cancelling headphones’ videos that people went crazy over. the lucky girls who had been paired together for said video had been chosen at random, and you had ended up with leah with frida, manu with katie and viv with lotte which meant the rest of you were trying to entertain yourselves elsewhere.

which wasn’t really an issue when you were all shoved into a recreational room with an assortment of snacks, gossip and phones in hand. beth, the self proclaimed quidnunc of the group had been sat in between you and alessia for the last ten minutes, and had yet to stop telling you about the ongoing drama in the west ham team that she had found out about at an event over the weekend. you paid attention for as long as you could, sharing looks with alessia as you both struggled to keep up with the fast paced ramblings coming from the yorkshire woman but beth was none the wiser.

you felt a dip in the sofa to the left of you, the last bit of space being occupied by someone who threw an arm around your shoulder and when you got a whiff of the familiar perfume she sprayed on every morning, you knew exactly who it was.

you turned your head and smiled at the culprit, jen sat sporting her usual messy bun on top of her head and cheeky smile on her face. she pulled you further into her side and gently squeezed your upper arm, “she still talking your ear off?”

you huffed a laugh at that, looking to see if beth had heard but she was still too busy ranting and raving, now focusing her attention on alessia since you were now occupied elsewhere, poor girl.

“something like that.” you hummed, snuggling up to your taller girlfriend who was happy to let you lean on her. “you finished your influencer activities?” you teased, referring to the number of tiktok’s she had forced some of the girls to take part in since they all arrived.

“aye, i get a lot of love and appreciation from the fans for providing them with five star, behind the scenes content i’ll have you know.” she told you, “but yeah. letting steph take over for now, think she’s really getting into those football murder mystery filters.”

you glanced over to where she nodded towards, indeed seeing steph with her phone in her hand obviously recording herself, with kyra and vic sat either side of her laughing at the story that was unfolding on the filter.

“what happens when she steals your tiktok crown?” you asked with a sly smirk, knowing the older woman would have a meltdown if steph’s content starting getting more love than hers.

“don’t jinx it.” she shoved you lightly, “i’d have to post something outrageous to get me my title back. know i have some mugshots of you deep in my camera roll, i’m sure they’d come in handy.”

“you wouldn’t!” you gasped, sitting up slightly in your seat and the scottish woman laughed at your reaction.

you knew she had accumulated a hefty amount of embarrassing pictures of you over the year that you’d been together, ranging from you asleep with your mouth open to you pulling the ugliest faces whilst you awaited the impact of the ball to hit you during games.

“then you better hope steph gets bored quickly.” she shrugged.

you playfully rolled your eyes at that, finally relaxing back down beside her, grabbing ahold of her hand that was hanging over your shoulder, interlocking your fingers as you did.

“you’re so mean to me, sometimes i don’t know why i agreed to be your girlfriend.” you shook your head as if you were disappointed with yourself, trying your best to hold back the smile that was itching to come out.

that didn’t last long though, as only a moment later the defender jumped up from her spot on the sofa and leaned most of her body weight on you, her hands flew to grab either side of your face so she could get a good view of it as she began to lather every inch of your skin in kisses, her lips not leaving one patch of your face untouched. your squealed and thrashed wildly beneath her, your shoulder knocking into beth’s who finally halted in her gossiping at the interruption.

she kept going, stopping for a second to grin at your flushed state. “you fancied me too much to say no to being my girlfriend you goon.” and with that she continued her loving attack on you.

you wriggled around, laughing as you fought for breath and attempted to push her from you but she wasn’t budging.

“jen! stop, i can’t breathe.” you shrieked between giggles, hands gripping at her red jumper, “you’re right! you’re right, please let me go!”

finally deciding you’d had enough, jen let go of you and you caught your breath as you sagged against beth with a hand on your chest. “you could’ve killed me then, i hope you know.”

“so dramatic you are.” she tutted, pulling gently on your arm so that you were sat upright once again. “now gimme a proper one.”

you grinned, and gladly leaned in towards your girlfriend, giving her exactly what she wanted as your lips met halfway and you sunk into the display of affection almost immediately, your lips moving together in unison before you felt a harsh nudge in your side.

you yelped and pulled back, glaring at beth who only looked proud of what she’d done.

“not in front of the children please.”

-

the next day you arrived back at the training grounds, this time with a full day of practice ahead of you rather than a day in front of the cameras which you were very much looking forward to. media day was always fun, especially when you were partnered up with the right person and yesterday you were lucky enough to have gotten cloe as your pal for the day, so you had no complaints.

but you were excited to get back to doing what you loved, especially with an important match ahead of you. you wanted to get your head in the game and make sure you were one hundred percent ready to face the opposing team on sunday.

everything was normal for all of five minutes, you walked in and greeted some of the staff lingering near the entrance before you headed off to the changing rooms so you could change into your training kit, but before you even had chance to push the door open, a body came barrelling into yours, making you stumble on your feet and your arm fly out to steady yourself against the wall.

you looked to the person with furrowed brows, your jaw dropped in shock at the scare you’d just gotten. “christ steph, what’s up with you?”

she looked worried, as her hands gripped onto both of your arms and the aussie looked behind her where leah and lia were approaching, with much calmer demeanours. “i have to tell you something before you find out from someone else, but you have to promise you won’t be mad at me.”

you eyed her warily, your head cocking to the side before you looked over to the two other girls with narrowed eyes. “what is it?”

“no! you have to promise first.”

you rolled your eyes at that, beginning to panic a little as your mind ran wild with possibilities of what information steph could be withholding from you.

“fine, i promise. now tell me.” you told her, not really meaning it, you just needed her to spill the beans before you tired yourself out from overthinking.

“i kind of, may have, accidentally posted a tiktok that had you and jen kissing in the background of it.” she winced, waiting a beat to carry on. “but i promise it was a genuine mistake! if i had known it was in there i would’ve never, ever posted it i know you guys didn’t want your relationship to be public yet, and i am so sorry please don’t be mad at me.”

“what?”

a stupid question, most definitely but it was the only thing that you could manage to say at this moment in time. you didn’t know how to feel or what to say as you processed the information just given to you by steph who was still watching you carefully, as if she was awaiting some kind of wild outburst.

an array of different emotions passed through you simultaneously, you were annoyed at steph for outing your relationship on a platform that spread content like wildfire. no doubt screenshots and recordings of the tiktok had already been shared to the likes of twitter and instagram, posts made that couldn’t be taken back now. how could steph have let that happen? why did she not spot it before she pressed post?

you were also panicking. did jen know? would she be annoyed? would this change things between you? you’d both agreed when you first began dating, after months of mutual pining, that when you got together you would keep your relationship as private as you could, for as long as you could.

something that was unfortunately common amongst women’s football, was how invasive some fans could be in the players lives. you had seen how they could overstep boundaries and pry too deep into stuff they didn’t need to know about many times, which would then jump to them spreading their opinions without a care about who was on the other side of their sometimes vicious comments. you’d been witness to it ruining some of your friends relationships, and you didn’t want that to happen to you and jen. jen who you loved, who loved you back, jen who you could see yourself marrying one day in the future. so you had come to the smart, unanimous decision to keep it hush for as long as you could. but now, it was out there.

“does jen know?” you asked next, deciding that was the priority for you right now.

steph shook her head, “no. i was gonna tell her but she’s been talking to jonas since she got in.”

jen had set off an hour prior to you, with fans sometimes lingering outside the training grounds in hopes of getting a photo with some of you before you came in, you didn’t want to risk them seeing you and jen showing up together a few times too many and start to put two and two together, so more often than not you took separate cars and showed up at different times.

you nodded at that, and took in a deep breathe as you tried to think of what to do next. seeing as it was already out, there was no way you’d be able to backtrack or deny that you were in a relationship with jen, so the only real option you had left was to come clean to the fans about it all. you just weren’t sure how to.

“are you still my friend?” you were brought back into the present by steph’s quiet voice, her eyes were still scanning you warily and you probably would’ve laughed at how silly she sounded if you weren’t the person on the other end.

“course i’m still your mate steph.” you told her, and the blonde visibly deflated in front of you. “just wish you had the common sense to check what’s going on in your tiktok’s before you posted them.”

you were half joking, half serious. but when steph tutted and shoved you playfully, you didn’t have the heart to be upset with her anymore. it’s not as if she had posted it on purpose, and with how she reacted when she approached you, you were sure she’d been beating herself up over it since she’d realised what she’d done.

“see! told you she wouldn’t be mad, got yourself all worked up over nothing.” leah spoke up, and then you remembered her and lia were still lingering in the back.

“yeah well, i wouldn’t have blamed her if she was.” steph said, and you pulled the aussie in for a side hug.

“it’s okay steph, just gotta find jen now and spill the beans.”

-

it was only twenty minutes later when jen joined you all in the changing rooms, already clad in her arsenal training kit and with her water bottle in hand, she spotted you almost instantly and her face brightened when she realised you had arrived whilst she’d been busy.

“when did you get here?” she asked, pulling you into a hug which you gladly reciprocated.

“not too long ago.” you told her, rubbing your hands up and down her back. “got something i need to tell you though.”

she pulled back a little at that, looking down at you with a raised brow. “should i be worried?”

you shrugged, “i mean, it’s not anything to panic about but … i don’t know if you’re going to like it.”

you nodded your head towards the door, gesturing to the empty hallway on the other side where you could both have the conversation privately with nobody there to eavesdrop. jen nodded in agreement, retracting from your embrace and pulling on your hand to tug you in the direction you had just motioned towards.

now standing in the vacant corridor, you leaned your back against the grey wall and watched jen as she stood in front of you with her hands on her hips as she waited for you to speak, which you did after a sigh.

“steph practically ambushed me this morning, she um, did something stupid.” you began, scratching your head as you thought about how to put what happened into words. “you know all those tiktoks she was messing around with yesterday?”

you waited for jen to nod, which she did a second later so then you continued. “well she posted some of them and in one of them, it has you and i kissing in it, in the background. and it’s definitely too late for us to do anything about it.”

you stood with baited breath, similar to how steph had been when she was breaking the news to you, all of a sudden wishing you had the power to read minds as jen’s poker face came out in full force, the brunette not hinting to how she was feeling at all. at least she wasn’t tugging at her loose strands of hair, or biting at her nails, two big tell tale signs that she was stressing which you’d picked up over the months you’d spent together, which was a small win you were willing to take.

“well i guess the secrets out then.” jen shrugged, her hands remaining on her hips as you looked at her slightly puzzled.

“you’re not bothered?” you asked, half expecting a bigger reaction from the woman who was always so careful with how you interacted in public.

“i mean, it’s not great is it?” she asked, “but honestly, a part of me is kind of glad its out there now. i love our little bubble, not having to deal with people we don’t even know deciding whether we’re a good fit or not and all that stuff. but at least now, we don’t have to stress over the littlest things everytime we go out together.”

you listened to the points she made, nodding along with pursed lips in agreement with what she was saying. one of the most annoying things about have a relationship that wasn’t public, was having to be on guard everytime you both wanted to spend time with eachother out of the house, leading to the two of you just ending up having most of your date nights at home instead, not having the energy to make sure there were no prying eyes wherever you went.

“and we don’t have to watch what we post on social media. no more making sure our stories don’t give away that we’re at the same place, or triple checking that none of our stuff’s in the background.” she added on, and your lips quirked up in amusement at the amount of times you’d had to quickly delete a story or instagram post when you realised there was a beattie shirt in the background, or anything else that gave away who you were with.

“so this is kind of like a blessing in disguise?”

she grinned, “yeah something like that. but don’t tell steph i said anything, she’ll be gloating for weeks.”

you laughed at that, finally being able to relax properly for the first time since steph had practically jumped you whilst you were on your way to get changed. jen approached you, clearing the few steps that kept her away from you and pulling you into her warm embrace, pressing a kiss to your forehead as she did. “at least now we don’t have to do any big, relationship reveal post. you know how much i’ve been dreading that.”

you hummed, “think we should get steph to do a big post for us? i’m sure her drafts are stacked with videos of us.”

“we can ask. but not yet, wanna pretend i’m really mad at her for a bit so i can bribe her into pampering me for a bit.”

you scoffed at that, giving the scottish woman a faux disgusted look. “you’re evil beattie.”

“you love me.”

#jen beattie #jen beattie x reader #jen beattie one shot #jean beattie imagine #woso #woso community #woso x reader #awfc x reader #awfc one shot #awfc imagine #woso imagine #woso one shot

[spiriteddreams]

"you could absolutely break my heart / that's how i know that we're in love." — boygenius (we're in love) cw: hurt/comfort, slight angst a/n: dedicated to @keqism who listened to my many thoughts about wrio angst until it ended in hurt/comfort

with wriothesley, who you haven’t seen in years. you find yourself falling in love in a metal labyrinth, holding onto the hand of a boy who found his strengths in the pankration ring. you watch fists fly and blood spray, and as wriothesley climbs higher and higher in rank until he is awarded the title: the duke of meropide.

and in the middle of the night he extends his hand to you in his office, the two of you safe in the privacy of his office walls. his megaphone plays a waltz that you're half familiar with. so under the sea, you slow dance with your head on his chest, wrapped in the warmth of his arms. it's a slow dance of tangled lovers and intertwined fates, a journey of children who found comfort in the arms of one another. and as you grew older, grew by wriothesley's side, you only find yourself falling harder and faster for that natural charm of his.

but in the back of your mind, you wonder how much longer you can bare to stay under the sea. because while the view of the ocean from below is a sight to treasure, sometimes you find yourself dreaming of the sun against your skin. and you know that the nights that you whisper of such dreams, wriothesley holds you closer. you cup his cheek and press kisses to his lips but don't dare to promise to stay.

promises are meant to be kept, so perhaps it's fortunate that you didn't offer the promise of forever. because when he least expects it, you leave the rising waters of fontaine for the rolling hills and towering mountains of liyue. it's an offer you can't turn down, with the promise of adventure and capturing the rise and fall of the sun with everyday. he reads of your adventures in the sparse letters that travel across nations and the thought that these letters might see more than he will, is a bitter thought.

and as you pen these letters, your thoughts can only wander to how wriothesley is doing. his responses have long since stopped and you're only left to wonder in the silence, nations apart, if every promise that he once whispered against your skin was now being offered to someone else.

you stop writing letters. and wriothesley begins to lose hope.

in the distance, atop the peaks of jueyun karst, you swear that you can see the ocean where the fortress of meropide lies beneath. but you can only wonder, as you stand above the sea of clouds, if, beneath the ocean depths, wriothesley is thinking of you too.

and as you return to a land of sorrows and secrets, you find yourself going down an all too familiar path, trying your best to control your breathing as you get closer and closer to the duke's office. and nothing can prepare either of you for when you see one another for the first time in years, older and yet somehow none the wiser. you pretend you can't hear the shakiness in your voice when you tell him why you are there, and pointedly ignore the way your name falls from his lips. you do your best to ignore the pounding of your heart, the anxiety that drips from your tone because you're afraid of what wriothesley will say.

“fancy seeing you here,” he leans back against his chair, legs spread and arms resting on his desk. his voice is deeper, clothes fitted around his figure just a bit too perfectly and you can't help but notice the new scars that litter his skin.

you don't know what to say. because there really was nothing that could prepare you for when you faced him again. anxiety bubbles in your chest, and it comes spilling out as, "you never wrote me back."

it's the first words you've said to him in years and both you and him can hear the hurt in your tone. the easy going smile drops from his lips and his chair scrapes against the floor as he stands and rounds the corners of his table to stand in front of you. but his hands tremble, his chest rises and falls, and he realizes that he's too scared to reach out to you.

you both find that words fail you. they're not quite enough to encapsulate the rush of feelings that fill the room as you stumble towards him. your ignore the cruel whispers in the back of your mind that warn against falling back in love. but you've already fallen right back down the rabbit hole, plunging beneath the surface in search of the one thing most familiar to you in this nation you had once called home.

because you fall right back into his arms just as you feared, and hide your face away from him for the fear of what you might see. but you miss the way wriothesley’s hands tremble as they wrap around you, the shakiness of his breath as he tucks his face into your neck and breathes deep. this reaction, these embraces, these shared moments, they’re nothing new. and yet they feel like everything and more.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3 a/n: it's spirit vs midterms and life and i think the latter is winning

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #genshin impact wriothesley #spiriteddreams writing #spiriteddreams

[kitkatscabinet]

Step into my parlour, said the spider

Stepbro! Simon x reader

Warnings: this one’s kind of deranged. Simon is a fucked up little freak. I mean it when I say this is dark, read with discretion. Implications of murder, and non-con

Word count: 1.5k

Once again 141 server bringing out the worst in me, @chxrryghost @cooliofango see you guys in hell 🫡

Before you, life was a series of dull greys and monochromes, there was no warmth, just cold never-ending darkness that persisted in the form of his father's abuse. That didn’t matter now though, because nothing before you mattered.

Simon is nine years old when the angel (you) starts to live with them, he’s got no clue how his deadbeat of a father managed to finagle another woman into marrying him but he pays little mind to his new step-mum when he has you. 

You’re five years older than him, but you’re not like Tommy or dad at all. You’re kind and you tuck him into bed and give him cuddles and kisses that make him feel all fuzzy inside. You take him to the park and protect him from his dad. You try to hide the dark bruises that litter your skin, a consequence of shielding him, but Simon’s not so naive. 

He grows up hiding in your shadow, falling deeper and deeper into an obsessively deranged love for his saviour, the only person who loves him and treats him kindly. He seethes silently, waiting for the moment he’s big enough to protect you instead. 

By the time you’re sixteen, your mother has split, leaving you behind though you reassure Simon that you’d never have left him anyway. His father’s been out of a job for a while and you’ve been running yourself ragged to support Simon and Tommy. Tommy the bastard that he is doesn't appreciate the work you do and Simon is once again forced to grit his teeth and seethe as he watches you come home every evening like a zombie. Some mornings you don’t even make it to the bed to fall asleep, though Simon’s always waiting, dragging you under the covers before burrowing his way into your side. 

You let yourself get degraded by filthy men that slap your ass and call you names just for a measly tip. You’re one of the prettiest people on the planet which, unfortunately, attracts a lot of attention from the disgusting dregs of society. Boys your age and older, far too old to even consider glancing your way. The few brave enough to hover are always quickly scared off by Simon’s intense glares, and he preens when you pat his hair in thanks.

His dad notices too and Simon comes home from school one afternoon to find the man on top of you, hands wrapped around your neck as you struggle beneath him. A plate shatters over his dad's head and it’s not until Simon is on the floor and his old man is red in face, screaming at him that Simon realises what he’s done. 

You’re screaming and you shove his dad from behind, scooping Simon into your arms with adrenaline-fuelled strength you wouldn’t normally possess and are locking you and him in your shared room. Barricading the door and squishing Simon against you as your breath rattles. 

You fall asleep with Simon nestled against your chest, none the wiser to how his blood chants with the fervour of a thousand men, mine, mine, mine.

The universe finally seems to give you a break after that, his dad leaves the both of you alone and not long after your 18th birthday you get a cushy, well-paying job as a secretary for some hot-shot lawyer. Though Simon gets a little upset when you spend all your money on him, new clothes, new books for school, a GameBoy, whatever he wants. 

Best of all, his dad dies. The alcohol and drugs finally taking their toll on his body. (It’s not until a few years later that he’ll realise you were entirely too calm when the police came knocking. Serving them tea as you pretended to be shocked about the news.)

You get custody of him and Tommy and you move them into a much nicer neighbourhood. Though Simon’s not happy at having his own room and often sneaks back into your bed, knowing that you’ll simply sigh and open your arms for him, letting him snuggle against your chest. 

Simon should’ve known better, should’ve known that his happiness wouldn’t last. It’s not even a year into what you called the start of his new life that he comes home one afternoon from school to find you sobbing into your hands, hair and outfit dishevelled. Though you refuse to give him the details of what happened he manages to put two and two together from the state of your being and the knowledge that you’ve been fired. 

You take up waitressing again but it’s not enough. He’s not sure who ends up reporting it but a few days before his 14th birthday Simon gets taken away from you, no matter how much he kicks and screams. He tries to run away a few times but he’s always found and dragged away from you again. 

You move away not long after, having been offered a once-in-a-lifetime scholarship. Simon tries to understand as you explain through tears, kissing his forehead for the last time. He knows it’s selfish of him to feel betrayed but he can’t help it. Can’t accept that you’re leaving him. He doesn’t cry, instead, he immediately starts plotting. This is just a minor bump in the road, he’ll spend every waking moment until he’s eighteen perfecting his skills and plans and then nothing will keep you apart ever again. 

Time passes by excruciatingly slow, the only positive is that he’d finally grown even further, and had sprouted in height and musculature so much that he fears you might not recognise him. It takes him another extra year to find you, but when he’s twenty-three, with military resources at his disposal he finally, finally sees you again in person. 

You’re still the picture of perfection, clothes hugging your form so tantalisingly that Simon feels his cock throb in the confines of his pants just from seeing you. He steps forward, weaving through the crowd of the market only to stop in his tracks when a man wraps his arms around your midsection. Instead of rebuffing the touch you lean back and smile against him and Simon feels as if the Earth has been pulled from his feet. 

How could you do this to him?

He’s waited so faithfully for you all these years and you’ve replaced him? He watches as you kiss the interloper with a smile and Simon clenches his fists in fury so harshly his palms bleed. How many men had you let into your bed? How long did it take for you to forget him?

The plan’s changed. You’ve forced him into this. It’s not his fault that he’s had to plant cameras throughout your house. It’s not his fault that you’re so tantalising it forces him to break into your house, stealing your used panties to help get himself off. It’s not his fault you force him to learn you and your boyfriend’s schedule and it’s not his fault your scumbag partner doesn’t take his carefully worded hint to leave you. 

Your boyfriend is dead. Unfortunate, but needs must. Simon watches you sob into your pillow, hard as a rock as he imagines licking the tears from your cheeks and decides he can’t wait any longer. 

You’re so distraught that you don’t even notice Simon is in your house, you don’t notice until he swings the bedroom door open and you look up with a scream. He supposes he must make something of a terrifying sight, he’s a large man, and his face is covered by his trademark skull balaclava.

Simon allows you a few seconds to scramble around in panic before he crosses the distance, trapping your back to his chest and groaning as he humps into your ass. You scream, hitting at his arms as the tears start to flow anew and Simon throws you down on the mattress, weighing you down with his bulk. 

“Please, you don’t have to do this” you beg with teary eyes that do nothing but fuel his arousal. He does take pity on you though, restraining your wrists with his right hand and using his left to tug off his mask. He watches as your eyes gradually widen, elation filling his chest as recognition fills them. 

“Simon?” your voice wobbles and his name has never sounded better. Groaning, he rests his forehead against your collarbone, taking calming breaths to stop from cumming then and there. It’s okay though, he’s got all the time in the world now. You’ll spend the rest of your lives together, you’ll never be apart again.

#x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #kat’s writing #cod ghost #cod simon riley #simon riley

[futureman]

his favorite girl, part iii

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: tensions rise as your second lesson continues, but joel still refuses to admit his feelings to you—or himself. you'd concede defeat if you really believed he didn't want you. or if his actions weren't constantly contradicting his words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, guitar teacher au, age gap (30 years), slow-burn, sexual tension, finger kink, smut, angst, f!masturbation, mild exhibitionism, mentions of guilt & shame

word count: 3.4k

series masterlist | part i | part ii

You have no idea how you're supposed to survive another afternoon with Joel, let alone an entire semester. He's basically Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, hiding under the visage of an unfairly sexy, middle-aged musician, but you never know which one you’re dealing with until he pushes you away or calls you his girl.

Today, he feels like a dangerous combination of both.

After your verbal agreement to keep things professional, yet again, he concedes and finally sits next to you on the couch. Guess that safe distance he was so desperate to maintain is null and void now that he’s made his feelings clear—sort of.

You assume his proximity is an olive branch, but it sure doesn't feel like one. Now, he's close enough to smell his cologne, an earthy, woodsy scent that's so Joel, it makes your head spin. It's also making this lesson infinitely harder to focus on.

You’d never even considered the possibility of him shutting you down this hard, but then again, a hot fling with an older guy wasn’t why you showed up on his doorstep in the first place. If he'd just admit he's interested, maybe things could be different, but he won’t, will he? So, what other option do you have?

You’re not going to throw yourself at him like some pathetic schoolgirl with a crush, even if that’s exactly what you are. You want him to want to touch you, to crave you the way you're sure he does, but right now he wants to teach you chords. Starting with C, apparently.

“We’re gonna try this chord again, alright? Same as last time, nice and slow,” he starts, reaching back to pull something out of his pocket. He presents you with a small, black piece of plastic that looks like a clamp, identical to the one on his guitar. "This here's called a capo. Go ahead and fit it right over the third fret—it’ll raise the key of the guitar. M’thinkin' that'll make things a little easier for ya."

You push your feelings to the side and accept it, following his lead and squeezing it into place before glancing up for his approval. He gives you an encouraging smile and nods, and your heart rate kicks up wildly in your chest.

God, why does his praise feel so good? And why does it feel like it’s been so long since anyone was this patient with you, or genuinely wanted to see you succeed? You realize you want him to keep looking at you like that, regardless of the nature of your relationship.

"S'perfect. Now, your fingers'll go here, here, and here," he arranges his fingers one by one on the three strings that make up the chord and strums. He lets it ring out for a moment, then looks up at you expectantly. "Any of this ringin' a bell from yesterday?"

Vaguely. Mainly, you're remembering how tempting his fingers looked while he was playing, but you'll have to do better than that today. Instead, you focus on mirroring what he showed you.

"Like this?" you ask hesitantly, pressing down on the strings and mimicking his motions. Tough nylon bites into your skin just as painfully as last time, but the sound you produce is pretty. Nothing like the muted, garbled mess from your previous attempt.

You meet his eyes, and they're filled with none of the surprise yours contain. He just looks pleased, like he had total confidence in you even if you didn't.

"Exactly like that. See? You're doin' better already. Must'a done your finger exercises last night like I told ya,” he says proudly, none the wiser.

If only he knew that’s exactly what you spent your night doing. Practically the entire night, if you’re being honest, and to no avail. It might’ve unintentionally improved your dexterity, but you're still stuck on everything that did or didn't happen yesterday. The only lasting result is how unexpectedly conflicted it made you feel. You nod, biting your lip to keep from grimacing.

“Sure did,” you play it off with a laugh. "I wanted to be as prepared as possible."

Prepared for something a little more physical than playing guitar, but that's a moot point now, isn't it?

You sound as fake as you feel, but luckily he’s so eager to continue the lesson, he doesn’t notice. Again, you follow his lead and try your best to ignore your disappointment and bury the residual hurt. You have a sneaking suspicion you're going to be doing a lot of that, but inexplicably, it's getting easier.

You're starting to realize it's not in spite of Joel. It's because of him. In a brief moment of self-indulgence, you let your gaze linger on his rosy cheeks and the newfound serenity in his eyes.

His enthusiasm is infectious, and his love for music radiates like a Texas heatwave, burning hotter with every chord he strums and string he picks. Even his posture is loosening, and the soft smile on his face seems like a permanent fixture.

It's that same warmth from earlier. That intimate connection you felt blooming in your chest from sharing in his joy. Cautiously, you allow yourself to hope, if not for you and Joel, then for your degree. For the goals you have yet to achieve that, regardless of the past 24 hours, still mean everything to you.

"So, what's next?" you ask eagerly.

His eyes light up, and you know you've asked the right question. He shifts across the strings to a new chord, his smile widening as you quickly move to match him.

"Next, we're learnin' F," he grins, nodding toward your finger placement. "Then, I figure we can run through some pickin' patterns if you're up for it.”

"I'm up for anything you are, teach," you reply earnestly, and the smile you give him feels genuine this time. You really do mean it in every sense. "But be gentle with me. It's been a while, if that wasn't obvious."

His smile falters, and something unreadable flashes in his eyes. After a moment, you realize what you said and how it must’ve sounded. You open your mouth to clarify, but before you get the chance, his expression clears. He chuckles, and it's a light, tinkling thing that fills your chest with a heady combination of relief and longing.

Of course, he’d take it in stride. You’re struck again by the resemblance to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, left wondering if you're still imagining things. The subtle twitch of his fingers must be a figment of your imagination, too, or at least that's what you tell yourself. It doesn't matter now, anyway.

"'Course, I will,” he drawls companionably, his words commanding your attention, compelling you to hang on to each one like a lifeline. “Like I said, we'll take it nice and slow. Ease you back into things until you're ready for somethin' harder.”

It takes everything you have not to choke on your spit. Ignore it. Ignore it. Focus on the lesson and how incredible it’s going to feel when you finally finish the song and pass your damn class.

But you can’t. He’s too close, and he smells so good. You’re only human.

"I think I'll surprise you," you retort cheekily. You’re so fucked. "Plus, I like it hard. Just need a little build-up to get me there."

His hand tenses in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it movement, and you can't help the overwhelming feeling of pride pooling in your belly. You've never backed down from a challenge and you're not about to start now. This one is apparently still ongoing.

"Well, all right, then," he says smoothly, and this time when you shiver, he looks pleased. "Let's hear ya strum it, and then we'll work through the rest. Think you can handle that?"

You straighten up, sitting confidently with your fingers poised over the frets, ready to play. As you shift in your seat, your thigh presses firmly into his and sends a rush of heat straight to the pit of your stomach. "Yeah, I can take it.”

He shakes his head with an amused, yet undoubtedly shy smile. You bite your lip coyly, nodding at the sheet music you've just noticed on the rug at his feet.

"Are there more chords in this bar or is it just picking until the next line?"

It's a toss-up whether or not he heard any of what you just asked if his rapt attention on your lips is any indication. You're still teasing your bottom lip with your teeth, and it's not until you laugh that he finally snaps out of it. He shakes his head a little harder as if to shoo away the distraction, before reaching down to inspect the piece of paper.

He concentrates a little too hard on the page, looking but not seeing, so you reach over and point at a confusing string of notes that connect and repeat with seemingly no rhyme or reason. His gaze shifts to your daintily extended index finger, and you're hit with an intense feeling of deja vu, except this time, your roles are reversed.

“Can you show me how that part goes? It looks like gibberish to me, to be totally honest,” you prod him, trying to reel him back in.

As if on autopilot, he quickly discards the sheet and shifts his hands into place, ready to teach like he wasn't just daydreaming about your fingers wrapped around his cock, covered in his release. And if he wasn't, then you sure were.

“Y-yeah, sure thing. That line's just the intro, but the flow is somethin' else. Probably one of my all-time favorites," he says, his endearing mask carefully slotted back into place.

But you're onto him now. Begrudgingly, he tears his eyes away from where you're matching him on your guitar, waiting patiently for his next instructions.

"It really ain't as bad as it looks," he continues. "The timing's purposely a little off, but it's adaptable. This one's real easy to add your own spin to if that's somethin' ya wanna try."

With all of the skill and grace of a practiced musician, he plucks through the line to give you a preview of what was previously only lines and circles on a page. The notes blend seamlessly, a mixture of picking and what you vaguely remember to be hammering, and it evokes something you never expected.

An unidentified emotion takes root and feels startlingly like yearning and hope, carried by the short melody. It's beautiful. He circles back to the beginning, hopping along the frets slowly just for you, and he's beautiful. You watch him, enamored by his fluidity and ease of motion.

For him, all of this is innate. His guitar is a natural extension of himself, something he was born to hold. You used to think you were born for it, too. The reminder is a painful one, but thankfully you're not left to dwell on it for long.

"So, how 'bout it? Ready to give it a try?" Joel's voice cuts through the fog, as honeyed and mellow as the music at his fingertips. You want to hear that voice call you beautiful again and feel him panting against the shell of your ear while he stretches you out around his thick fingers. God, you want.

Yet, your hands move of their own accord and fall into place—it's the C chord. Apparently, you really want that, too.

"Ready, teach," you nod, and you know you must look like a lovesick fool.

Right now, you really don't care because your gorgeous guitar teacher is beaming and excited, and beneath it all, there's still a tinge of something that makes you believe all of this is real. A lust for more simmering just below the surface.

"You have my full attention, promise."

——

The next hour is spent walking through various strumming and picking patterns, and acquainting yourself with the fluctuating tempo. It's tricky, but you're committed. Again and again, you repeat the same bars, following Joel's interjected advice and corrections, and your mistakes become less obvious until they're all but gone completely.

Rewarding doesn't even begin to cover how a successful run feels. Even the pain blooming beneath the reddening indents on your fingertips feels good. Calluses are beginning to roughen the soft skin, but you earned them.

They're yours and yours alone, proof that you worked your ass off and achieved something remarkable. The results speak for themselves, bouncing around the walls of Joel's living room and breathing new life into the space. Your contribution to his little corner of the world.

And Joel looks so damn proud. He stays patient through every flubbed hammer and too-hard pluck, grinning when you complete the section without his guidance. Your lesson's already gone on long past its scheduled time, but neither of you seems to notice. You likely wouldn't bother to mention it even if you did.

Time trickles by like the slow drip of molasses, thick with the sweetest tension, yet the longer you play, the more a familiar ache starts to creep in and make your progression a little more difficult.

Your hand is cramping, and it hurts. You pause mid-strum to shake it out and stretch your fingers, sighing at the brief respite.

"Hurtin' again, huh?"

You huff out a laugh, remembering the last time he asked you that question. The throbbing in your joints would more than welcome another massage from Joel, but you don't exactly trust yourself to come back from that. You have to stay focused until the next line of the song, at the very least.

"It's really not that bad. Guess all those finger exercises are paying off," you joke, but you don't expect him to catch the underlying punchline. "I kinda figured it wouldn't go away overnight, anyway."

You can tell he's thinking about it, too. He nods understandingly, tapping a restless, arrhythmic beat against his guitar.

"S'all part of bein' a guitar player, unfortunately," he agrees, his entire body tense like he’s resisting the urge to reach out and inspect the subtle changes to your delicate skin for himself.

Your mind starts to wander as his tapping changes to slow circles swirled into the wood grain. You can't help but wonder if your new calluses would feel good sliding up and down his cock, if he'd like the coarse hint of pain teasing the ridge or circling the tip. You wonder what his own would feel like pressing into your clit. The skin of his middle and ring fingertips is noticeably rougher than the rest and with a little pressure—fuck.

You're wet. That can't happen. You have to concentrate. But his movements are starting to speed up, and you can almost feel them sliding through your messy heat.

The intrusive thought is thankfully interrupted when he stops the lewd motion and continues his reassurances like it never happened. Why does he keep doing that? It seems so pointless to keep pretending you’re not on the same page, but you’re not about to call him out and scare him off again.

You tell yourself to focus on the pain. Focus on what he’s saying, not what he’s insinuating.

"Pain's a good thing. It means you're stickin' it out and makin' some real progress," he says fondly, and it's almost enough to reclaim your attention. "Says a lot about the kind of person you are, too, what you do with that pain and how you let it shape ya. You're a good one, I can tell. Committed, like I was."

It's so much sweeter than anything you'd expected him to say. It helps.

"Fair enough. Still kinda sucks though," you grumble, but the slight quirk of your lips betrays your tone.

"Yeah, yeah. What happened to likin' it hard?" he asks playfully, and you feel that telltale whoosh between your legs.

You shift uncomfortably, subtly trying to unstick your underwear from where it's cemented to your core, but the unexpected friction makes you flinch. He picks up on it immediately.

"Look, why don't we take a break? I'll grab us some drinks while you rest up, and we can dive back in whenever you're ready," he offers, his voice raspier than before.

"Yeah, that, um...that sounds good. I'm actually gonna run to the bathroom real quick if that's cool," you reply, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel.

It's hot as hell all of a sudden, even though the AC hasn't stopped kicking since you got here, and you have a feeling cold drinks won't be enough to cool you down. He hesitates before nodding, then points down the hall.

"'Course. S'the first door on your left," he says, brows furrowing in concern. You all but speed walk past him to your temporary haven.

Backing into the door the moment it closes behind you, you squeeze your legs together as tightly as you can, but it only makes it worse. The ache is almost unbearable, and you know for a fact that you'll waste the rest of the lesson if you try to go back out there like this.

The entire afternoon has been such a complicated back-and-forth of conflicting feelings and confusion, but you still have no idea what do to about it. You want him to fuck you, but you also want him to teach you. He wants to teach you, but he also wants you in ways he won't admit to you. Or himself.

Your head is cloudier than it's been all day, and your thoughts are a jumbled mess of desire and rationality, both fighting for dominance. So, now what?

There was only one way to clear the fog last night, but you really shouldn't. You're in his bathroom for christ's sake, and he can't be more than 15 feet away, pouring you a glass of lemonade in the kitchen.

You do it, anyway. With one hand shoved down your pants and the other slapped over your mouth, you decide your best course of action is to rub one out in Joel's bathroom to rid yourself of this distraction once and for all. And it feels good.

The moment your sore fingertips press into your clit, your hips buck into your touch and you lose yourself to the friction. You're even wetter than you realized, and your fingers keep slipping from where you need them most, so you change tactics, ramming two of them inside you instead.

So much for resting your hand. Your motions are frantic, bordering on desperate, and you can't bring yourself to stop now that you've started. Wet squelching mingles with your muffled moans and fills the room, noisier than you’ve been all day even after an afternoon of playing guitar.

But you're getting a little too loud. The door rattles on its hinges every time your palm slaps into your heat, and your hand isn't nearly enough to mask your increasing volume the closer you get. Maybe you'll get lucky and he won't hear a thing. Or maybe you'll get really lucky and he'll hear everything.

You're too far gone to care. Just a little more. You can feel yourself starting to squeeze your fingers, and you just need a little bit more—

Then, there's a knock at the door and Joel's voice tentatively filters through.

"Everythin' alright in there?" he asks kindly, but he sounds wrecked.

It's obvious he heard everything, and yet he's still trying to be polite, desperately clinging to his morals and good, Southern manners. Too bad that turns you on.

Not bothering to respond, you keep going, fixated on how vivid a picture your unstifled moans and reckless actions must be painting. You wouldn't be surprised if it's just your imagination again, but you swear you can hear labored breathing and a litany of muttered curses coming from the other side.

He knocks on the door again, harder this time, and you quickly realize that any patience Joel had left is gone. You've finally pushed him past his limit.

"M'givin' you sixty seconds to get back in that livin' room," he grits out roughly. "You're finishin' out here."

The door shakes as he pushes off of it and stomps away, leaving you in palpable silence.

thanks for reading & stay tuned for part iv!

divider by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[partycatty]

i want to give old man mk11 johnny little kisses all over his face with lipstick on and leave little kissy marks that he doesn’t know are there so when he goes out everyone sees them but he doesn’t.

i love ya 💙💙

hehehe

older!johnny cage > peppered

johnny didn't know your makeup wasn't smudge proof when he went off to work.

[ masterlist ]

• "i'm headin' out!" johnny calls from the foyer, grabbing a bag and keys from the hook beside the door. "don't miss me too much, alright?!"

• "wait!!" you sprint down the steps, the biggest grin on your face. you were wearing your usual face of makeup, bright red lipstick included. johnny returns your grin, beaming down at you when you charge yourself at him and wrap your arms around his neck. "i love you."

• johnny chuckles, eyes flicking between yours. "i love you more." his voice is gentle, honest. it was always nice to see his domestic side when he wasn't kicking ass or talking about how amazing he was.

• you kiss him, smushing your face against his in a strange competition to see how hard you could kiss him before he'd complain. your noses squish together and you can hear johnny giggle into your lips. when you pull away, your smile only grows when you notice there is a firm print of your lipstick on his mouth.

• "what's that look for?" he asks, noticing your staring. you decide to take advantage of his lack of knowledge, leaning in for another kiss on the side of his mouth. he smirks, nose scrunching at your contact which only makes you kiss him more.

• "i love you-" you plant a kiss on his cheek. "i love you-" one on his eyelid. "i love you-" one on his jaw. after some time of this, you've thoroughly peppered his face with lipstick marks, one in each section of his face and even a couple on his neck. you made art of his skin, and he was none the wiser.

• "okay, okay—" johnny laughs, pulling you away by your shoulders and kissing your forehead. "i'll be late if you keep loving on me like that." you manage to squeeze in one last kiss before he heads to work.

• when johnny arrives on the compound, he's greeted by an amusing amount of stares - which isn't unusual, considering he's a part-time movie star, but this time he felt more like a clown than an action hero.

• he stumbles into jacqui before the meeting, and she tenses up, at first raising a finger to inform him of his new face paint but opting not to — maybe cassie would be better to bear the news?

• arriving in front of the SF army, he notices that his daughter is already commanding the troop, standing front and center. johnny slinks in casually, so as to not disturb the routine.

• the sunglasses come off, and he notices that the crowd falls eerily silent, some even biting their lips to stop a smile. cassie takes notice and pivots to include herself on what seems to be so funny.

• "commander cage," johnny says with a nod, scanning the crowd nervously. "is... is everything...?"

• cassie bursts into laughter, doubling over and completely breaking from her professional stoicism. johnny can only throw his hands up exasperatedly.

• "seriously, what the hell is going on? people keep looking at me like i'm crazy." johnny pinches the bridge of his nose as cassie finds her handheld pocket mirror, one that he gave her many years ago.

• taking the mirror, he opens it and inspects his shirt, wondering if maybe he spilled his coffee. but when he catches a glimpse of his neck, he notices two reddish smudge marks. slowly angling the mirror upward, he realizes what's so god damn funny.

• he flushes red. sure, everyone knew you two were dating, but this was the least professional thing he'd done in a while — which is really saying something.

• "jesus, dad, you couldn't have washed them off before coming to work?" cassie asks, still cracking a smile. "reader's nice, but i didn't need to know how nice she is to you. oh my god, it's everywhere—"

• "i didn't know i had 'em," johnny mutters, wiping his face embarrassingly.

• you were in for one hell of a phone call when his break rolls around.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage mk11 #mk11 #marley writes ☆

[morgana-larkin]

I love angst for some reason, but can you write a Melissa x reader breakup fic? Where reader is in their mid 20’s and Melissa is obviously wayyy older than her. Melissa realized that they’re both heading in different paths in life and tries to gently breakup with reader, but calls her all the pet names like “kid/kiddo, young one, little bunny, etc” (this is taken from Taylor Swift’s ‘Illicit Affairs’ where she’s going “don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you’ve made me…”)

Maybe a part two if you’re feeling up to it, with gentle smut as reader and Melissa get back together and make love again? 👀

Oh I’m definitely making a part two to this, I mean I can’t leave things with Melissa on a sad note. So I went with the nicknames hon and kid. I did ended listening to the Taylor Swift song and based some of the things off of the song. And I just gotta say that I procrastinated on doing this for 4 days straight as it hit too close to home. I called off my engagement 3 months ago to someone 12 years older than me because we were heading down different paths in life. Anyway, not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: still taking prompts peeps!

Don’t Call Me That

Warnings: Angst and no comfort, no happy ending, may break your heart like it did for me

Words: 2.25k

You and Melissa are cuddling on the couch watching real housewives. Melissa found out you’ve never seen it so of course she had to show you. The two of you have been together for about 8 months now and never been happier.

Well, you have never been happier. Melissa was happy, but she still has so much doubt on whether or not she should have gotten with someone so much younger than her. Especially when you made comments on what you want to do with your life.

“I hope to get married someday.” You said once. “Maybe we can have kids together.” You said another time. “We should go out to a bar or a club together sometime.” You said one time. Melissa just looked at you and smiled each time but didn’t reply. Those thoughts swirl around in Melissa’s head until one day she couldn’t ignore them, you both wanted different things and she couldn’t let this relationship go on even more.

“Hey hon, can we talk?” She says to you when she visits you at your place on Saturday.

“Alright, sure.” You said, none the wiser. You and Melissa go on your couch and you face her with a smile. Melissa wishes you weren’t smiling as it makes it harder knowing that she’ll be that reason for that smile to drop.

“I don’t think this is working out anymore.” She starts and you look at her confused.

“What do you mean?” You ask and you frown.

“I mean this.” She says and gestures between you both. “Our relationship, I think we should end it.”

“Why?” You ask, concerned.

“Because we want different things in life hon. I don’t want to get married again, I wanted kids before but not anymore, and I don’t want to go to clubs if I don’t have too. But you’re young, you should have things you want and you should do it.” She tells you and you look down at your lap. She really wants to comfort you but knows she can’t.

“So that’s it? We’re over, just like that? I have no say in this?” You ask her and she looks guilty.

“I’m afraid so hon.” She says and you snap you head up at her.

“Don’t call me that if you’re gonna break up with me.” You snap and that catches her off guard. She knows you might be upset but didn’t think you’d snap at her, but she doesn’t blame you.

“I’m sorry y/n.” She tells you.

“Please leave.” You say and she nods defeatedly. She gets up and walks to the door and opens it. Before she leaves, she glances at you.

“I really am sorry.” She says and leaves. As soon as she closes the door, you get up and lock it, then you put your back on the door and slide down while crying.

On Monday you walked in the doors of Abbott and went to the break room as usual. Only this time instead of saying hi to Melissa when you pass her, you just walked right by her to the fridge.

“Hi hon.” Melissa says to you.

“Don’t call me that.” You say as you put your lunch in the fridge. Everyone turns their attention to you and Melissa as they knew you were dating. “My name is y/n.” You say to her and go to make a coffee.

“I know what your name is.” She tells you as you pour the coffee into your mug.

“Then I suggest you use it.” You tell her and walk out.

Melissa sighs and leans back into her seat.

“Trouble in paradise?” Barb asks Melissa.

“If trouble you mean broken up then yes.” Melissa says and everyone gasps.

“Omg what happened?” Janine asks.

“None of youse businesses.” She tells them and walks out. Everyone turns to Barb for answers.

“Don’t look at me, the only thing I know is Melissa broke up with y/n if their emotions are anything to go by.” Barb tells them.

Melissa tries to talk to you for the rest of the day when she gets an opportunity but you keep shutting her down.

She keeps trying every day for 2 weeks until she had enough. She got Mr Johnson to watch over her class while she goes to talk to you during your prep period.

She knocks on your door and walks in after you call out a ‘come in’ to whoever was there. When you look up you see the person you least expected, mostly because she has a class right now.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be teaching?” You tell her as she closes your door.

“Mr Johnson is watching them until I get back. I need to talk to you hon.”

“I keep telling you not to call me that! And the last time we talked, you broke up with me so I don’t really want to talk to you.” You told her and she sighs. You get up and go to bring a stack of papers to the back of the classroom.

“I know but I’ve been trying to at least be friends with you like we were before we started dating because I like our friendship.” She tells you as she follows you to the back and you whip around to face her.

“Friends? You think I would want to be friends with you? Melissa, do I need to remind you that you broke up with me and didn’t even bother talking about it with me? You just made the decision on your own.” You grit out.

“It was the best decision.”

“For who exactly? Cause it sure wasn’t the best for me.” You tell her and she looks at you.

“It was for you. I made it for you so you can have the life you want. I can’t give you everything! So I let you go so you could! Believe me when I tell you that I didn’t want to break up with you! You are the best damn thing to happen to me and it broke me to let you go!” She tells you and you gasp.

“That’s the reason?!? You. Are. An. Idiot Schemmenti! Just because I may have thought about certain things doesn’t mean it’s set in stone. I’m 25 and I’m not certain about what I want to do in life.”

“See that right there is what I’m talking about. You have no idea what you want cause your life has just begun, while mine, well I’m 55, I’m going to retire in 10 years hopefully. My life is almost over.” She tells you frantically and at that Barb comes in.

“Girls, can you quiet down. It’s hard enough to teach 5 year olds how to read the alphabet as it is. It’s even harder with your yelling.” She tells you both and you look at Melissa.

“What I knew I wanted in life was you. But I guess I was wrong. You should get back to your class.” You tell her and you leave to go print something. “Sorry Barb.” You tell her as you pass her by.

Barb looks at Melissa who has a couple tears rolling down her cheeks. “Sweetheart, what were you trying to accomplish here?” She asks her and Melissa lets a sob escape.

“I was trying to be friends with her again.” She tells her.

“Melissa, you just broke up with her out of the blue. At least for her it was out of the blue. You have to give it time before she might consider being your friend again.” Barb tells her and Melissa nods.

“I know, I just, I miss her.”

“Listen I have to go back to my classroom and you have to go back to yours but how about you come to my classroom at lunch and we can talk then.” Barb suggests and Melissa wipes her tears away.

“Ok.” She says with a nod and then leaves back to her classroom.

2 months go by and Melissa has stopped any interaction with you. You still know she looks and stares at you but never talks to you.

Melissa can’t help it whenever she sees you, she never talks to you even though she wants to, she just stares at you. Her heart breaks every time she sees you.

10 weeks after she breaks up with you, your both in the break room along with everyone else. You’re talking to the trio and they ask about your weekend plans and you mention you have a date. Melissa whips her head up from looking at her phone and her jaw drops and eyes got watery.

You may not be able to see her face but you saw her whip her head up. You also see Barb looking at her sympathetically which means she must look sad right now.

You tell them your contemplating on whether or not you should go, you think you shouldn’t but Janine and Gregory tell you to go and Jacob tells you no. You go over to Barb for the tie breaker and you show her a picture of the girl, Melissa also sees the picture of her and she realises that you’re going out with someone around her age.

Barb tells you it’s your choice and that’s when Melissa pipes up. “Isn’t she too old for you kid?” She asks you while taking a bite of her pasta.

You glare at her and scoff. “I think that’s for me to decide, cause I do have a say in some things.” You tell her and she looks down guiltily.

On Monday morning you walk in the break room and the trio asks you how your date went.

“It was alright. We’re going out again this Saturday.” You tell them and you hear Melissa scoff. “Something you want to say Melissa?” You ask her and she turns around in her chair.

“It doesn’t seem you’re interested in her since you said it was alright.” She tells you.

“Well it was my first date with her and I haven’t had a first date in a year.” You say and she stands up, grabs her things and walks out. You turn back to the trio and continue the conversation. Barb follows Melissa out to make sure she’s not destroying anything or about too.

The next Monday you’re talking to the trio about your second date and you tell them that you’re not going to see her again as you’re not interested in her. You don’t see it but Melissa smiles. You don’t but Barb sure does and rolls her eyes at her.

It’s been 3 months since the break up now and you stop by quickly at Melissa’s to get a few things she recently found that’s yours. In reality, Melissa found them 3 months ago and hid them when you came to get your things so she would have a few reminders of yours but now she wants an excuse to talk to you.

The box of your things is on the coffee table and Melissa is sitting on the arm of the couch when you walk in. Melissa told you that she’ll leave the door unlocked for you.

“Are those the things?” You tell her and nod your head to the box and she nods at you.

“Ya, it is.” She tells you and you don’t really move, she sees you looking around. You usually went to her place about 3 times a week to hang out with her after school and she would make dinner for you two.

“How are you kid?” She asks you and you look at her.

“I thought I’ve told you to stop with the nicknames and use my actual name.”

“You have, but I like using nicknames for you.” Is all she says.

“Why?”

“Because I always have, I’ve rarely called you by your actual name. It feels wrong to call you by your actual name.”

“Well you might want to work on how to make it sound right.” You tell her and walk over to grab the box and she grabs your wrist and you gasp.

“You never answered me when I asked how you were.” She tells you.

“You really want to know how I am?” You ask and she nods. “I’m broken.” You told her and her eyes look upset. “You broke up with me and now I’m broken and a mess. I chose not to go on a third date because all I thought about on the two dates was you.” You tell her and she lets go of you but you make no attempt to move. You want to challenge her to something to see what she really thinks and you grab the back of her head and you kiss her. She’s stunned for a second but then she automatically kisses you back but then you pull back 3 seconds later and she looks at you shocked. “You can’t tell me that that doesn’t feel right. I may not know much about what I want in life but I know I wanted to spend it with you. I’m aware of the age gap but it never made a difference to me because I love you. I thought you loved me.” You tell her then you grab the box and leave.

As soon as you close the door, Melissa falls down on the couch and starts crying. “I’m so sorry y/n.” She sobs out. “I do still love you.”

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

Let me know if you want to be added!

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x oc #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #x reader #fanfic

[hatsunemitskislobotomy]

“…𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙙𝙖𝙮..

𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝙗𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙙𝙖𝙮, 𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙮…”

╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚ ╴╴╴╴˚ೃ ╴╴

well that was one way to be broken up with.

she couldn’t even be mad at the guy. he had been very sweet and patient but she had spiraled and started missing texts that turned to missing calls— which turned to missing dates. wasn’t the first time either, she just was that much of an exhausting person to keep up with.

in the sense that she was always behind.

she let out a sigh as she rid herself of his footprints, deleting his texts, deleting any photos, unadding him on socials— the whole nine yards.

but when it came to that dreaded voicemail.

her finger hovered over the red trash can button, taunting her.

and then she pocketed her phone, she supposed it would serve as a reminder.

that it was always her fault.

she rubbed at her face before emerging from her room.

“ah, you’re awake.” her raven haired roommate looked up from his book

“and to think we thought you were just about to sleep through your date.” her snowy haired roommate chimed in from his position laying across the raven’s lap

“ah, about that… i just got broken up with.”

“…”

it was quiet between the three of them, then again when was it not? she never made much efforts to communicate with them past their typical chores and roles in the housework.

the two in a friendlier than most relationship were seeking a third person to help take up the lease and that’s exactly what she did, nothing more nothing less.

and when it got awkward…

“yeah…” she murmured looking at her hands

“do you… want to talk about it?” it was a cheap attempt, she appreciated it nonetheless

“i’d rather not, i think my first proper conversation with you two shouldn’t be me bitching about my ex.”

satoru’s airy laugh sounded as he got up from his lover’s (?) lap.

“please, we wouldn’t be opposed.”

“speak for yourself satoru, only you are a fiend for other people’s affairs.” suguru tsked, closing his book slightly

“but please, if you need someone to talk to— we’re both willing.”

“i thought i was the fiend suguru—”

“you are, i’m offering as a concerned roommate.”

“i’m fine.” her words a lot harsher than she intended

and then came the unconvinced, concerned glances.

“sorry.”

and then she retreated back to her room.

if she kept this up she’d find herself out on the streets.

she let out a sigh, it was what she deserved right? no boyfriend, no roommates, no friends, nothing.

on her birthday no less.

she let out a sigh, she might as well distract from this pitiful day.

————————————————————

nothing beat rearranging your room instead of confronting your feelings.

she shook her head, she didn’t have a right to feel anything more than empty. the only thing that she felt was the need to rearrange her room and rearranged it was.

she needed a new change of scenery, after all she was another year older.

and yet still none the wiser.

the brutality of reality seemed to sting more as one got older.

she sighed, at least she can mope in a clean room.

a knock pulled her from her thoughts.

“it’s open.”

and then there stood her two roommates.

“i don’t think we’ve ever seen your room—ack! ow…”

“seriously satoru?”

“what? it’s true…”

she stared at the two bickering before the raven sat his eyes on her.

“y/n… we wanted to see if you were free later—“

“please, she’s always free—“

a smack, then a whine.

“we’ve realized that you haven’t been properly introduced to the area… we’d love to do you the honors.” he offered a half hearted smile

she supposed it was true, aside from her dates once in a while— she never really was familiar with the area.

“i suppose i can accept.”

“i told you suguru now we have to drag her ou— wait what?”

she chuckled, for the first time in a long time, a genuine chuckle tumbled out from her lips.

the two men were in awe.

“i’ll join your endeavors to wherever, i… i could use the fresh air.” she swallowed

the bright blue eyed man seemed ecstatic as he left her room pumped, the more subdued raven gave her a soft smile before leaving her to get ready in peace.

“thank you for humoring us.”

she should be thanking them, but she wouldn’t say that part out loud… at least not yet.

—————————————————

she couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward as she was wedged between the two men who insisted.

something about her being too small and easily losable in the crowd.

apparently these parts were known for having winter night markets where the cold winter streets would warm to life with street food and vendors.

she hardly had a chance to process the sights and the atmosphere as they dragged her from stall to stall, sampling food, eying trinkets, playing games.

she’d be a liar if she said she wasn’t having fun.

“wait guys— i’m gonna get some of the dango from earlier.” satoru was bouncing away before the two could even respond

“well his dentist certainly has their work cut out for them.”

suguru had to process her snark words a little before letting out a chuckle.

“believe it or not, satoru has the most elaborate brushing routine that I’ve ever seen. he’d rather die than develop any sensitivity to sweets.” he hummed

“i see.” she hummed, starting to rub her hands a bit

“getting cold?”

“a little, it’s fine— i’ll probably invest in gloves one of these days…” she sighed a little

“here, let me.”

he gently took her hands in his, letting her much smaller hands rest nice and warm in his own.

“your hands always this warm?”

“i’d have to say quite the opposite for you, and here i thought satoru’s was bad.” he chuckled lightly

“speaking of— if it’s within my boundaries… what are you two?” the words just tumbled out of her mouth

they weren’t married, and they seemed very comfortable in each other platonically as well.

it was obvious that they loved each other, but she couldn’t help but wonder in what way?

he tilted his head slightly.

“perhaps soulmates, life partners. he’s practically my everything.” he smiled

“oi! quit being so cryptic!” suddenly satoru was back with his dango in one hand and the other around the raven

“he’s my person— not much else to it.”

“that wasn’t any better than mine in the slightest.”

“yeah but you go into the poetics of it too much, just call it as it is.”

and she was left with more questions than she had answered, but in a way she sort of got what they meant.

they were each other’s person.

“i’m glad you two have each other.” she gave them a smile

“ah shit— she just got broken up with… are we being too much?”

“satoru!”

and there it was again, that airy laugh that made the boys still. they were still in awe that she had it in her, not when she constantly looked miserable in their eyes.

“guys, guys it’s fine— you don’t have to change anything for my sake.” she sighed, a small smile still playing at her lips

“ugh you’re so sweet! your loser boyfriend didn’t even deserve you like that!” satoru whined as he shook her a little

“especially dumping you on y—“

an elbow to the ribs and his hands were immediately off you.

“suguru…!” he groaned

“you have a big mouth.”

“oh but you like that~”

another elbow.

she couldn’t help but snicker at their antics, one moment they were like an old couple in love and another moment it was almost as if their were your typical best friends who’ve known each other forever.

she thinks she’s starting to understand what suguru meant by them being each other’s person a little bit better.

“sorry about talking about your relationships so carelessly.” suguru gave her a sheepish smile

“it’s alright, nothing that wasn’t my own fault.” she shrugged

they looked at each other.

she couldn’t just leave it at that.

“i have the tendency to just… withdraw..” she bit the inside of her cheek

“at some point it’s exhausting for the other person, dealing with me disappearing every so often— although it’s not intentional… it’s not hard for someone else to think i’ve lost interest or i’m being unfaithful.” she gave the two a half hearted shrug

“i suppose there’s just a lot i need to work on myself before i put myself out there.”

the two seemed conflicted, it was good she could recognize the areas she needs to work on…

“…but aren’t you being too harsh on yourself?” suguru blurted out, satoru immediately nodding

“there’s nothing wrong with working on yourself… but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to love and be loved.” satoru gave her a look

she knew they were right, but sometimes it was just easier to be miserable without having to think about another— only thinking about herself and her misery. she was selfish like that.

and they could tell by the conflict that flashed on her face.

before the conversation could progress any further she felt something cold prick at her nose, and then she looked up.

a gentle snow was falling.

“well would you look at that.”

she wore a wistful expression as she looked up, letting the snowflakes gather on her lashes as the warmth of her skin melted the ones on her face.

perhaps it was the universe letting her have this one thing, the first snow.

suguru and satoru seemed thrilled as well.

“suguru— look!”

“i see it satoru.”

but everyone seemed so far away as it was just her and the gentle snow.

it was beautiful.

but beautiful things hardly last.

“…!”

she looked back at the two who gave her a look, suddenly she was back on the busy night market street.

“you’re shivering.”

she didn’t notice until another one wracked her body.

before she could speak she felt herself being dragged along by satoru, suguru trailing behind the two.

“wha..? where are we going?”

“somewhere to warm up!”

——————————————————

when the two dragged her off, she expected for them to go back to their shared apartment or a restaurant.

but she was sitting down on a couch in a dim room with a microphone in hands while colored lights danced around the room.

“i… i have a few questions—”

“come on! it’s nice and warm and you can sing your heart out about your shitty ex!”

“he wasn’t shitty though, it was my fault we broke up.”

“that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to feel some type of way about it.”

which was true.

“come on you know the classic breakup songs right? it’ll get whatever off your chest—“

and before she could protest satoru was already queuing up a song.

and that’s how the rest of the night went, although hesitant at first it wasn’t long before the three taking turns in singing songs and ballads. from cheesy classics to songs of yearning and heartbreak that suguru sang a bit too well for satoru’s comfort.

“i’ll never make you feel like that!” he whined clinging on to the raven who gave him an exasperated look

“i know.”

she couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight, it was nice to be around other people.

“i’m going to the restroom.” suguru hummed before peeling satoru off of him

“can i come with~”

“no.”

she snickered a bit at satoru’s clingy behavior.

“he’s so mean to me!” he huffed

“i think he knew if you two went together you wouldn’t be coming back out any time soon.” she mused

he let out a dramatic sigh.

“i suppose you’re right.”

“also we couldn’t leave your mopey self all by your lonesome.” he gave her a little nudge

she shook her head with a smile.

“i think i would’ve managed.”

“yeah yeah don’t lie— you’ve been all sad about your lame ex. y’know if you said no earlier sugu and i would’ve just dragged you out one way or another.”

“i’d like to see you try.”

“suguru manhandles me on the daily— we’d get ya.” he snickered

a comfortable silence fell between the two.

“do you feel better?”

she pondered his question a little.

“i do…”

but.

“but..?” he tilted his head

“it’s not even the breakup at this point…” she sighed a little

it was the prospect of getting older, and not a damn thing changed.

life itself was a fickle thing, ever changing.

so why hasn’t she?

gripping onto the ways of her past, she joked that she peaked when she was younger and it was all downhill from there… when did it start being actually true?

her past, her youth— it took all the best parts of her.

and now she was someone despicable enough to be broken up with on their birthday—

she felt cold hands on her cheeks, snapping her from her thoughts.

“you got lost in your head.” bright blue eyes staring down on her as she blinked

just how long did she spend ruminating looking like a complete nutcase in front of him?

“suguru was right— your hands are cold.” she mumbled out

“you alright?”

“i’m not sure yet.”

“…you wanna sing one more song?”

she sighed.

“pass me the mic.”

she got up to go queue up the next song, her back towards satoru— he didn’t need to see her inner turmoil boil up once more.

she heard the door click open, she figured suguru was back.

“ah— suguru. you wanna join the last—“

the words on her lips died as she turned around to meet his gaze, only for it to fall on a cake.

a birthday cake.

“welp— cat’s out of the bag! woooo! happy birthday!”

she was still processing it.

“satoru that’s hardly appropriate,” suguru rolled his eyes at him before turning to face her once more

“come, sit down.”

so she sat down on the couch in between the two as suguru set the cake down in front of her on the table.

“we weren’t sure what flavor you’re into but as a self proclaimed confectionery connoisseur, all the cakes from this bakery are really good so it should be alright.” satoru hummed as he pulled out candles from his pocket and expertly placed them around the cake

she finally found her words.

“how… how did you know…?”

suguru gave her a small smile.

“well at first we didn’t, but then we did some extensive research—“

“we were snooping around your socials.”

“…yeah that.”

her lips couldn’t help but quirk up at that.

“we knew something was up when you bothered to speak more than five words to us.” satoru shrugged before being met with a smack to the head

“owww…! it’s true!”

“forgive satoru, he’s bad at handling delicate situations.”

“i’m just saying it how it is! you looked more down than usual and we snooped around! can we talk about how shitty your ex is for dumping you on your birthday?” he ranted which earned him another smack

she was overwhelmed with emotion, she didn’t even realize the tears that started to stain her cheeks.

“you made her cry.”

“shit— i’m sorry!”

“no no,” she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand

“i’m grateful i promise, just processing… y’know?”

“we hope you know that you deserve this, having a birthday worth celebrating.” suguru put a hand on her shoulder

she offered him a watery smile.

“hug? you look like you could use one.” satoru offered

typically she would’ve refused, she wasn’t big on physical gestures but she couldn’t stop herself from nodding softly wiping her face some more.

she let herself be caged in between the two, taking in their scents and warmth. she relaxed into their holds, letting out a sigh once her sniffling subsided.

“thank you.” she whispered softly

“i know we’re still sort of strangers but we’ve grown a liking to you, if you ever think you’re alone especially here… we’re here for you.” suguru murmured

“you’ve already been welcomed in our lives aside from the roommate formality stuff, it’s just up to you if you want us in yours.” satoru chuckled lightly ruffling her hair a little

“i’d… like that.”

and they held on for a little bit longer, she held on for a little bit longer.

“now how about we blow out some candles?”

❀° ┄───╮

this one is dedicated to all the girlies who feel some type of way (wanting to die lol) on their birthdays, including me today :,)

╰───┄ °❀

#happy bithday to me #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk drabbles #jjk geto #jjk gojo #satosugu x reader fluff #platonic satosugu x reader #satoru gojo #suguru geto #satosugu #jjk x reader #lowkey self insert whoops

[villain-apolog1st]

Mile High Club (David Rossi x Reader)

Summary: you and David can’t control yourselves on your way to your vacation

Tags: NSFW, teasing, semi-public sex, plane sex/mile high club, [unprotected] PinV sex, assumed birth control, (fem!reader)

Translations: amore (love), dolcezza (honey), gattina (kitten), tesoro (treasure)

A/N: inspired by a suggestion from anon, ty!

“You? Going on vacation? Yeah right,” Morgan laughed in Rossi’s face. The two of them sat across from each other on the BAU jet. The team was flying back to Quantico after successfully closing another case.

“Yes, me. Why is this so hard to believe?” Rossi asked incredulously.

Reid chimed in from where he was seated across the aisle. “Probably because you’ve told us multiple times that you don’t ‘do’ vacations.”

Rossi rolled his eyes. “Well, this is more for Y/N than it is for me. I’d like to do something nice for her.”

“Breaking one of your truths is more than doing ‘something nice’, Rossi,” Morgan chuckled. “Y/N has you head over heels.”

The older agent said nothing and turned to face the window, but not before the team caught a glimpse of the smile that adorned his lips.

•••

You grinned in excitement as you walked down your driveway to David, who waited expectantly outside the taxi. “I can’t believe we’re actually going,” you exclaimed, embracing him. You hadn’t seen him in the past few days, both of you busy sorting the logistics and packing before your trip.

Much to your surprise, David had been the one to suggest the idea of a vacation. You’d been together for a few years now, and always figured with the nature of his work and his known disinterest in vacations that it wasn’t necessarily something you’d together. But he’d planned all the details and now the two of you were going to spend two (two!) weeks in Portugal, exploring the country’s coast and its famous wine region.

David pressed a kiss into your temple before taking your bags from you to put them in the trunk. “You and everyone else,” he chuckled.

Once the both of you were inside the taxi, the driver began the trip to the airport. You turned to David, a pressing question in your mind. “Are you sure you won’t go crazy being away from the BAU for two weeks?” You asked. David’s dedication to his job was something you really admired, but you worried it would get in the way of him enjoying the trip.

David intertwined his fingers with yours and pressed a kiss against your hand. “Trust me, amore. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than in Portugal with you for the next two weeks.”

You smiled contentedly and squeezed his hand. “Besides,” he continued, a devilish smirk on his face. “I can think of a few ways we’ll be spending our time.” David began pressing kisses into your hair and face, making you giggle.

“And by that I’m sure you mean spending our days enjoying the sun and the culture of a beautiful country,” you teased. David’s hand was making it’s way up your thigh, getting dangerously close to your center.

“Well there’s that,” he said lowly in your ear. “Among other things.” His lips captured yours in a deep kiss as his hand cupped your sex over your clothes.

You gasped, grabbing his wrist to stop him from going further. “Dave,” you hissed, surprised by his brashness. There was warmth spreading under your skin, especially with the driver being right there. You spared a glance towards the front seat, but he thankfully seemed to be none the wiser.

You turned your attention back to David, who seemed delighted that you were now hot and bothered. Before you could say anything further, you felt the taxi slow to a stop and looked out the window to see that you’d arrived at the airport. “Looks like we’re here,” David winked at you before opening the door.

•••

You were just about home free, having gone through check in and most of security seamlessly, when the TSA agent seemed to find an issue with your luggage.

“What do you have in there?” David leaned in and asked you quietly as the agent put your suitcase through the scanner again.

“I don’t know,” you whispered back. You were wracking your brain trying to think of what could be setting off their system. You hated this part of flying - so many rules; it was easy to forget something and cause a whole issue at security.

“Sir, ma’am, can you step this way please?” The two of you followed the agent to a table next to the security check, where she put your suitcase down and began unzipping it.

You felt your cheeks flame when you saw that you’d packed your suitcase in a way that meant the new lingerie you’d bought for the trip was the first thing visible. You’d spared no expense - you had two new matching sets, a dainty slip, and a very revealing teddy - all of which were clearly on display for you, David, and the agent. Remaining professional, the agent politely maneuvered around your garments to find the offending item.

You heard David clear is throat and shuffle next to you. You glanced over at him and saw that he was now standing with his arms clasped in front of him, almost as if he was trying to…oh. You returned your attention to the agent, trying to stifle the smile making its way onto your face. You’d wanted the new lingerie to be a surprise for him, but upon seeing his reaction, maybe this was even better.

“Here we go,” the agent interrupted your thoughts, holding up a bottle of body oil. Oops. You’d meant to pack that in the suitcase you’d checked in, not this one. “A reminder ma’am that liquids in carry-on baggage must be less than 100mL. We’ll be tossing this.”

You apologized, slightly embarrassed, before the two of you grabbed your things and made your way to the gate. The baggage mishap meant there was only about 30min left until your flight. As the two of you sat in the lounge waiting to board, you leaned in close to David.

“I’m sorry about the body oil, honey,” you purred into his ear. One of your hands played with his hair, which you knew drove him crazy. “I know how much you love to use it when we’re together.” Seeing the outline of his growing bulge, you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

“I won’t hold it against you, dolcezza,” David smirked, his hand lightly rubbing your thigh. “But you can make it up to me once we arrive. Maybe by putting on one of your pretty new purchases.”

You squeezed your legs together at his words. This game you two were playing was dangerous but oh so tempting, and it was unlikely either one of you would back down. But before you could stoke the fire further, the gate attendant announced your flight was boarding.

•••

You weren’t usually the biggest fan of flying, but the two glasses of wine you’d had since getting in the air were doing a great job of taking the edge off. David had, of course, gotten the two of you seats in business class, which wasn’t too crowded. It also helped that it was a late night flight, so most of the passengers were either asleep or trying to be.

Not you and David, though. Both of you were known night owls - a fact that you’d bonded over when you first met. So while the rest of the plane was half-asleep, the two of you were tipsy on wine and giggling like teenagers in your corner of the plane.

“I can’t stop imagining you in that skimpy little set of yours.” David’s breath was hot against your ear, making you so aroused it was almost painful. “And with your teasing earlier…I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard.”

“Oh really?” You hummed playfully. The dim lighting of the airplane cabin and the blankets you were provided made it easy to check for yourself. David inhaled sharply when you palmed his hardened cock over his pants. “I want this inside me,” you whispered in his ear as you teased his cock.

David suddenly grabbed your wrist, looking at you with lust-filled eyes. “Get in the bathroom,” he whispered. You nodded, feeling a thrill of excitement pass through you, all sense and reason out the window.

You quietly made your way to the bathroom. As soon as you slid the door closed, your hand was in your pants, soothing your throbbing clit. You stifled a moan, surprised by how wet you were.

The door opened, startling you into withdrawing your hand. You relaxed when David came in, grinning. He locked the door behind him before pressing up against you. “Couldn’t wait for me, hm?” He smirked before his mouth met yours in a heated kiss. His lips were demanding and his tongue slipped into your mouth, eager.

David replaced your hand with his and rubbed his fingers along your slit before dipping them into your opening, feeling the juices collected there. “I think you’re ready for me,” David whispered. Gripped your hips and turned you around to face the bathroom mirror. You heard him unzip his pants as you quickly pulled your own down, desperate to have him inside you.

David’s eyes held contact with yours in the mirror as he aligned himself with your entrance. He slowly pushed himself into you, making you moan breathily. His cock slid in easily and filled you up completely.

“Shh, gattina,” he whispered in your ear as his hand came up to cover your mouth and silence your moans. “You and this tight pussy of yours are gonna get us in trouble.”

Wasting no time, David began fucking you relentlessly. His eyes never left yours in the mirror as he licked and sucked the skin at your neck. The hand that wasn’t covering your mouth slid around to play with your clit, making your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Such a dirty girl, Y/N,” he hissed in your ear. “Getting fucked in the airplane bathroom. What would everyone think, hm?”

David moved his hand from your mouth and slowed his pace so you could switch positions, half of your ass now propped up on the sink as he positioned himself between your legs. He slide his cock through your folds, nudging your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Please,” you whispered softly, desperate for him.

His lips met yours again and he slid himself back into you, groaning into your mouth softly. You were heady with pleasure as David’s thumb circled your clit. Heat was spreading under your skin now and you felt your muscles tighten right before waves of pleasure rocked through you intensely.

You held David close against you, panting against his mouth, as you came down from your high. The squeezing of your walls was enough to bring him over the edge, and he gasped quietly as his cock pulsed, releasing his cum.

“We should probably get back,” you said, pressing a kiss against his lips. The two of you quickly cleaned up before returning to your seats. Thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed that you’d just joined the mile high club in the bathroom.

David pressed a kiss into your hair as you curled up in the blanket, ready to get some sleep. “I love you, tesoro. Sleep well.”

#c: david rossi #criminal minds #david rossi #rossi x reader #criminal minds smut #david rossi criminal minds #david rossi smut #david rossi x fem!reader #david rossi x reader #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds x reader #derek morgan x reader #c: derek morgan #spender reid x reader #spencer reid x reader #c: spencer reid #aaron hotch x reader #mile high club #airplane sex #smut

[say-al0e]

Second Chance

Rating: PG

Summary: Bradley was always the one who got away. Things hadn't worked years ago but sometimes in life, you're lucky enough to get a second chance. Warnings: None, just some fluff Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!Reader Word Count: 2k  Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist

Though nearly six years had passed since your last first date with Bradley, it felt as if no time at all had elapsed as you sat across from him. Memories of what had been filled your chest with a simmering warmth as you watched him animatedly recount yet another tale from his time at Top Gun.

That last first date, one that also spanned the course of an entire evening, launched a two-year relationship that made itself permanently at home in your heart. It found your first love, the first true romance you’d had the fortune of experiencing, and you felt a sort of deja vu as he easily rolled his eyes at another of Hangman’s antics.

This Bradley - years older, years wiser - was simultaneously comfortably familiar and so incredibly different. He still carried himself with an ease you found reassuring, armed with a mischievous smile and infectious laughter, but there were more layers now. Behind those warm brown eyes lingered a deeper understanding of the world, an understanding of life that hadn’t been present in your twenties, and you did nothing to hide the soft smile that lifted the corners of your mouth as he leaned back in his chair and shook his head.

“So, did Phoenix ever realize it was actually Bob hiding her shoes or does she still think it was Hangman?”

Empty coffee cups lingered on the table, long since cleared of your dinner plates, as the restaurant slowly closed around you. Hours had passed, spent lost in conversation - catching up on missed time, listening to the low rumble of his voice as he shared adventures - and you knew that you’d have to leave soon.

The bubble would burst eventually, pulling you both back to reality where you would have to decide whether to continue chasing the past. Still, rather than relaying that thought to Bradley, you leaned forward with a grin as you waited for his answer.

“I think she realized a few weeks ago,” he admitted, laughing as he idly wrapped a hand around an empty cup. “Wouldn’t surprise me if she’s waiting to get him back, though. Phoenix doesn’t get involved in the pranks very often but when she does, they’re brutal.”

Bradley spoke fondly of his new squadron, thrilled for the camaraderie despite his earlier struggles, and even recounted tales of having rekindled a relationship with Maverick. He looked at ease, far happier with his place in life than he had been years prior, and you were glad to see the contentment as you shook your head.

“You know,” you began, grinning as you thought about the last set of Top Gun pranks he’d been involved in, “it’s kind of comforting to know that no matter how much things change, some things stay the same.”

Both of you had grown since you last saw one another. Gone were your twenties, replaced by true adulthood - settled careers, lifelong relationships, responsibilities that sometimes seemed overwhelming - and it was evident in the conversation you’d had.

There was no longer talk of parties and bars, instead you’d spoken about family - his godfather, his squad, your parents - and friends that had long since gotten married and started families of their own. There was talk of work, of the inability to recover the way you used to and make time for things like a few drinks on a weeknight. There’d been a whole tangent about diets and playful complaints about the fact that spicy food tasted better than ever but grew harder to stomach the older you got.

But knowing that there were still those moments of levity, that the Bradley you’d met at the Hard Deck and fell in love with over too many drinks still existed, calmed any remaining nerves lingering in the pit of your stomach. It seemed that as different as things were, there was still a glimpse of the Bradley you fell in love with all those years ago and it made you hopeful that things might be different this time.

Bradley opened his mouth to respond, witty retort on the tip of his tongue, but before he could speak, a soft voice popped the bubble you’d spent most of the night in.

“Sorry,” she began, politely apologetic. “Just wanted to check in. We’re closing the kitchen, so, if there’s anything else you’d like, now is the time. And, if not, I’ve got the check.”

A quick glance at your phone had the pair of you blinking, both surprised at the time. When you spared a glance around the now empty restaurant, you grimaced apologetically. “Sorry,” Bradley laughed, “didn’t realize how late it was. We’re good.”

“Yeah, we’ll get out of here so you guys can close. Sorry,” you repeated, following suit as Bradley stood from his seat and took the bill.

In a matter of moments, you were standing outside the restaurant, glancing back as the staff turned the sign and began closing up.

It was the briefest of gestures, a flash of movement, but it reminded you so distinctly of the past. There were nights where you’d close down restaurants, sit on barstools until well beyond last call, just to spend a few extra hours together before Bradley had to leave. You saw a flash of yourself, a bit younger and so wholly in love, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you began wandering down the sidewalk.

“I guess some things don’t change.” Bradley grinned, eyes bright and glittering in the city lights as he drifted closer to you. His hand bumped yours, body bleeding warmth as he tipped his head to glance at you.

“Can’t believe we spent all night sitting there. Felt like no time at all.” The observation was quiet, whispered into the wind as you wandered slowly down the sidewalk, and Bradley hummed in agreement.

“It was always like that with us,” he reminded you - as if you’d somehow forgotten just how easy things were for most of your relationship. “Even at the end, we could talk forever and not get tired of one another.”

Bradley was right. Though your relationship ended, it wasn’t because of incompatibility or a lack of love. The pair of you had always gotten along well, easy and light even toward the end, and you were reminded of just how well you and Bradley worked at every turn.

“I think the lack of a mustache helped back then.” Bradley rolled his eyes fondly, laughing as his hand brushed yours once more, while you ducked your head. “You’ve always been easy to talk to. You’re kinda captivating, Roo.”

It was easy to remember just how quickly Bradley had captured your attention and just how wholly he’d managed to do so. His voice, warm and honeyed; his way with words, always so thoughtful and intriguing; his general demeanor, easy and steadfast - everything about him made you want to lose yourself in him and you continued to be reminded of why you’d loved him so fiercely for so long.

“You’re one to talk, honey.”

There was little you could say in response, little your brain seemed to process beyond the question of why you’d allowed yourself to separate from Bradley for so long, so you opted for the next best thing. After a moment’s hesitation, you turned your hand and took his in your own, lacing your fingers together in a way that seemed achingly familiar.

From the corner of your eye, you saw his smile grow wider - bright, happy, even in the dim glow of streetlights - and smiled as you drew closer to the Bronco. The night was coming to an end, but as sad as that made you, you could see more nights like it in your future as you witnessed the brilliance of that smile.

Conversation tapered off into a comfortable silence, then. It was as it had always been, neither of you compelled to speak just for the sake of conversation, and it was yet another reminder of what you’d missed. With Bradley, there was always a level of ease no one else had ever been able to achieve and it was comforting to revel in the quiet, even as you climbed into the car and an old rock song began to play.

As Bradley tapped his fingers along to the song on the radio, you took the opportunity to study him. He sat, bathed in the warm glow of streetlights, side profile exactly as you remembered. There were a few minute changes - the mustache, most notably; he’d learned to style his hair, and he’d lost some of the chub of his cheeks - but you were reminded of why you’d always fawned over him.

There was something magnetic about him, something bright and beautiful that drew you in and kept you tethered in his orbit. He’d always been beautiful, both physically and mentally, and you were grateful for the chance to reconnect. It’d been too long, too many years apart, and there was little explanation other than fate for your reconciliation.

However, all too soon, you found yourselves parked in the lot of your building and heading up the sidewalk to your door.

“This was nice,” you conceded, breaking the silence that had lingered on as you stopped at the top of the steps. “I missed this.” With only a split second of consideration, brain working on overdrive to rid itself of any doubt, you admitted, “I missed you.”

Bradley, whose smile was as soft as you remembered and whose gentle gaze made your chest ache pleasantly, nodded. “I missed you, too.” The agreement was easy, ready, as he took a tentative step closer. “I’m glad you said yes to tonight. I was kind of afraid you wouldn’t.”

“I never considered saying anything other than yes.” There’d been no real thought, no other answer you could’ve given him. Though your relationship ended way back when, it was of no fault of his. The pair of you were simply in different places in life, both wanting something you couldn’t give at the time, and he’d always been the one that got away. Getting a second chance was more than you could’ve asked for. “I’m really glad we bumped into each other.”

It was a moment of serendipity, a coincidence you hadn’t imagined would happen, and you knew Bradley was just as happy for the chance as he nodded his agreement.

Another step closer, another soft smile, as Bradley seemed to weigh his words. “I didn’t know if we’d see each other again,” he admitted, voice quiet as he closed the distance between you. “I always wanted to, always thought about reaching out, but I… I’m just glad the decision was made for us.”

That fear you both shared - the fear that there would never be a right time, that a reconciliation would only end in heartache - went unspoken but you knew it was shared. And as Bradley lifted his hand, soft and warm as it pressed to your cheek, you melted into his touch.

“I want to do this right this time,” he declared, voice soft and washing over you as your eyes fluttered. “I don’t want to rush and fuck it all up again.”

“No one fucked it up last time,” you reminded him, tone matching his as you gripped his bicep softly. “It was just the wrong time. Things are different now, though.”

“Second time’s the charm.” His easy agreement was all you needed to close the small space between you once more, returning your lips to his in another soft kiss.

The second chance was what you both needed, another shot at a love you’d missed so dearly, and you were glad to have gotten it. No matter what happened, you were hopeful that this time, the second time would be the charm.

_______________________________________________________

Author's Note: Dunno, man. Just feeling soft. Working on some Hangman smut now, though, cause that damn photoshoot.

Taglist: @lulu-noodles, @holachicos, @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth, @withakindheartx, @ssprayberrythings, @verin93, @totalwitch2, @malindacath, @alexparkxr, @hangmandruigandmav, @alexxavicry, @calicokel, @jaymum, @dracosluvbot, @little-wiseone, @specialk6802, @mandylove1000, @julesclues, @archetypesoflife, @oliviah-25, @benhardysdrumstick, @caatheeriinee07, @yvespoems, @chloereidwayne, @flower-name​, @callsignharper​, @peoniarose​, @hangmanscoming​, @rh3tt​, @dakotakazansky​, @silversprings-mp3​

#rooster imagine #rooster x reader #top gun one shot #top gun maverick imagine #top gun x reader #top gun imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster fic #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw fluff #v's fics

[ghostgorlsworld]

Johnny Boy (Chapter 1) Werewolf! Soap x reader

Once upon a time, you would've done anything for John Mctavish. He had been your older brother's cool best friend, and you were always desperate for him to see you as more--until one fateful night that ends up with you pregnant and him...gone. Fast forward six years and you've made a good life for yourself with your daughter Emma, with Johnny none the wiser. Until one day, he decides to knock on your door.

Warnings: this will be dark Johnny, he's a werewolf so in my fics they don't really have the same morals. There will be smut in the future, and this will be quite a slowburn.

PS. shoutout to @ceilidho for inspiring this Johnny fic, especially in the future you will see Johnny calls reader "kitty" and ceilidho absolutely came up with that amazing nickname and I love them for it :) Read their stuff for more Johnny fics!

You couldn’t remember the last time Emma had slept through the night.

She was always a restless little thing, even as a baby. She hardly cried during her first year of life, quiet as a lamb with her wide blue eyes and pursed mouth, squirming out of swaddles and cradles with a single-minded determination. Your wee old man, you used to say, always looking out at the world and finding it lacking. 

She didn’t get those blue eyes from you, though you wish she had. It was as if you weren’t allowed to forget him. 

Emma was curled around you like a cat, her dark hair sprawled across your pillow. She didn’t like to be alone at night, but that was common for baby wolves, always searching for the closest source of warmth.

You spent half your time researching, reading books like How to Raise a Wolf Pup 101, or Ensuring Your Child Stays Connected to Their Inner Animal and enrolling her into a mixed kindergarten, where pups and children co-mingled (usually) without incident. It helped that you had grown up with a werewolf, you could look at his early life and see the flaws in the way his parents raised him.

You always worried, worried that you weren’t doing as good a job as someone like her would, worried that you weren’t feeding her a proper diet despite the fact that you spent another good chunk of your time preparing raw meat to mix with her school lunch. She was so small for her age, but she had John’s spirit, all wild-hair and quick temper.

Today was going to be a hard day for you both. Today was the day of the funeral.

Emma’s great grandfather took a turn last week and died at a rather impressive age, considering his history. He was a charming old wolf, but back in the day had belonged to the underground fighting rings London used to harbor, where wolves and humans alike ripped each other apart in grimy warehouses and subway tunnels. You had a suspicion that he had involved John in it a handful of times, when Johnny was just a skinny teenager with bruised knuckles.

But Emma loved Grandpa Jack, and the funeral wasn’t going to be easy for her. She understood death in a way you hadn’t when you were six, hearing the old man’s heart stop from across the hospital lobby during your visit last week.  

Emma shifted against your neck, breathing in your smell. It was as comforting for you as it was for her , her hair tickling your nose.

“Emma?” You whispered, jostling her. “Emma, it’s time to get up.” It was already eight, and the funeral was going to be at ten. You needed a shower and Emma needed breakfast–nothing put her in a worse mood than skipping breakfast.

Emma grumbled, tucking herself deeper in the blankets. You smiled to yourself, sliding out of the blankets. “Fine, but you’re getting up when I’m out of the shower.”

She nodded, tucking her head under the pillows. In another life, John used to do the same thing, growling whenever you tried to wake him before ten. 

You had thought of him often lately. You blamed it on Jack’s death, the scary thought that John might actually turn up at the funeral–but Tom had reassured you that the last he had heard from John was that he was in the Middle East, a half a world away.

You undressed, laying out the neat black dress and ballet flats you had chosen the night before. You kept the door cracked, so you could keep an eye on Emma.

If Jack hadn’t been Emma’s grandfather figure, you would simply not go. John’s mother liked you well enough, at least, more than she liked her son, but you understood why he left.

Not enough to forgive him for it, of course, but that was probably because he spent one night with you, knocked you up, and then disappeared completely for four years. He resurfaced two years ago, reaching out to Tom, your brother and his best friend, by sending an expletive-filled letter about the violent and bloody years he had spent in the military. Tommy came to you first and asked if you wanted him to know about Emma.

That was the kicker. When you learned you were pregnant, you spent months and months trying to reach him, calling whatever high-ranking officer you could find–but they all said the same thing: John Mctavish agreed to have his life before the military erased in the records, therefore he no longer existed.

He had no intention of coming back. And he didn’t even attempt to contact you along with Tommy, the girl that he had grown up with, the girl that used to love him more than anything in the world.

Emma was awake by the time you were out and dressed, her eyes bright at the thought of breakfast. 

“Cereal?” She asked hopefully.

You opened your mouth to refuse, thinking of the sugar but then you remembered that she was going to have to see her grandfather’s corpse today. You shrugged, “Sure, Em, as long as you have eggs too.” Emma nodded eagerly. She had the appetite of a grown man, and wasn’t particularly picky–something you were grateful for every day. 

She was quiet as you cooked, her eyes focused on your black dress. “Do you think Grandpa Jack is going to haunt us?”

You paused, halfway through flipping a fried egg. With Emma, it was best to really think about your answer. “Well,” you said, gesturing for her to start on her plate of raw, sliced liver. “Do you want him to?” “I think so. He could just stay in his armchair like he always used to,” Emma said thoughtfully. “We should leave one of his books out for him, just in case.” Her obsession with ghosts started when bloody Tom let her watch one of those cheesy ghost-hunting shows. Instead of being terrified, she found it exciting, the thought that people can remain even in death. 

To tell her that Grandpa Jack wasn’t going to prop his ghostly specter up on your ratty armchair and read his ancient western novels would break her heart. So you nodded, scraping two eggs onto her plate with the liver. “Alright. We’ll pick one before the funeral. I’m sure he’ll need a break from your cousins bickering by now.” She smiled and dove into the liver. It was good for her, of course, the vitamins and the minerals in organ meat, but that didn’t make you any less squeamish watching your child tearing into the raw flesh. 

Your own breakfast was a cup of black coffee and nerves, your stomach twisting into knots. He wasn’t going to be there, you told yourself. He had stayed away for this long, your idyllic little life with your daughter and your job at the library wasn’t going to be interrupted by the man that had abandoned you.

You didn’t want things to change. You didn’t want him here, in your space, with your daughter that you raised alone. 

Jack and Tom had helped of course. The old man had done his best to teach your little girl to not chew on the furniture or chase the squirrels up the tree, and your parents and Tom spoiled her endlessly.

Emma helped you wash and dry the dishes, nuzzling your hip affectionately. “You smell like you did when you went to work at the book place,” she said, sensing your anxiety. “How come? Do you think Grandpa Jack’s family’ll ruin things?”

Jack’s family, not John’s. You hadn’t told her much about her biological father, and Emma was observant enough to understand that he wasn’t ever going to be around. It didn’t seem to bother her, she had enough males in her life patting her head and teaching her how to play rugby.

“No, of course not, bear,” you said, tweaking one of her dark pigtails. “I’m just…I’m really sad. I’m going to miss your grandfather.”

She nodded, her mouth pursing in that mournful way she did when she was a baby. Back then, you had convinced herself it meant that she somehow knew her father wasn’t there, that you were doing this all alone and she knew you would fuck it up. “I still smell him in the living room.”

You kissed the soft crown of her head. “I know, bear, I’m sorry.” Together, you picked one of his Louis L’Amour novels off your rickety little bookshelf. “This was the one he was reading,” Emma said, carefully opening it to the page he had dog-eared. “We’ve got to remember to turn the pages every day, Mommy. He always reads so slow.”

“Once in the morning and once in the evening,” you agreed, patting the worn-down leather. His imprint was still in the cushions, a big, tall man worn down by years of violence.

You were going to miss him. He had come to your door shortly after Emma was born, a suitcase in hand. “I’m moving in, love,” he said. “She’ll need a wolf in her life and I’m all you’ve got.” You could have cried with relief back then. He had had such a way with her, always shushing her cries by cupping her in his big, callused hands and bringing her to his barrel chest. 

“I raised Johnny and fucked it up,” he had said, following the tiny whorl of her ear with the tip of his finger. “I’ll do my best to help you with her, pup, you loved my boy more than he deserved.”

You helped Emma into her frilly black dress, the one Jack had chosen himself. He wanted to buy her something nice, to be his darling little granddaughter for him one last time. 

She sat quietly while you braided her hair, uncharacteristically still. “Ready?” You asked.

She nodded, glancing one last time to the Louis L’Amour on the armchair.

Tom greeted the two of you at the door, a tall, skinny man that still looked like the stubborn big brother you knew. He had retired from the military last year to settle down in the house across from yours and got a job doing the only thing he really liked doing–which was cooking french dishes for eight hours a day and shouting until he was blue in the face. 

He smiled sadly, sweeping Emma up in a hug. “Hullo, bear,” he said, kissing her cheek. “You look dashing.”

“Grandpa Jack made me wear it,” she said, frowning disapprovingly at the ruffles on the sleeves. 

Tom laughed, but it was hollow, his eyes shifting to you before swiftly flitting away. “Of course he did. Here, I’ll watch Em for a bit if you want to mingle, Johnny’s mother was looking for you.”

Of course she was. Anxiety twisted deeper in your gut, the coffee bubbling up your throat. “Alright,” you said lightly, forcing a nod. “I’ll be inside if you need me, bear.” She nodded, turning to her uncle with a single minded purpose–to convince him to let her have some of the biscuits in the tin he had brought.

Susan, John’s mum, was sitting in the lobby of the funeral home, sorting the trays of casserole into neat rows. She was a thin, tired woman with the same blue eyes as your daughter.

“Susan,” you said, “I heard you were looking for me.” You opened your arms as she came in for a hug, her body brittle against yours. She had been sober for a few years now, mostly because you had refused to let her near Emma while she was drinking–which used to be every day.

“I need to tell you something,” Susan said, gripping your palms in a hard grip. “I just…I don’t know with Daddy gone now…” her eyes welled up.

You hugged her again, shushing her gently. “It’s alright, Susan,” you said, “Whatever it is can’t be that bad.”

Looking back, you were a right bloody idiot. Susan pulled away from you, joy sparking her face as she smiled. “Honey, he’s home.” Stupidly, you thought she was talking about Jack. 

She wasn’t.

The hair prickled at the back of your neck, your body aware before your brain could catch up. Your stomach twisted, dread spilling down your spine like ice.

He was behind you.

You refused to look, your eyes still locked with Susan’s teary gaze. “No,” you said quietly. “No, tell me you didn’t just let me walk into this.”

She had understood when you asked her not to tell John. She understood that her son had chosen war over you once again and that he didn’t deserve to be in your life.

“I’m sorry,” Susan said, squeezing your arm apologetically. 

A hand brushed against your shoulder, big and warm and so familiar it hurt. 

“Hey, bonnie,” John said roughly, his voice deeper than it used to be.

You couldn’t help yourself, you had to see. 

You pushed away from Susan, looking up into the familiar face of John Mctavish. 

He looked ten years older, but no less handsome, scars turning his face into something you didn’t recognize, something like a predator. He was still keeping his hair in that stupid fucking mowhawk, but he had gained an impressive amount of mass, so tall and thick he looked like a stranger.

You couldn’t breathe. 

Johnny. The only man you’ve ever loved. The father of your child.

The man that took your virginity and abandoned you, all in one night.

“It’s been awhile,” he said, his accent twisting up his words. 

You blinked. 

Emma.

Emma was outside and he had no idea. You had to leave, take her away from him. 

“It could have been longer, John,” you said, your voice so cold it stung your tongue as you spoke. The ache in your chest was overtaken by rage, pure and hot. “Excuse me.” You pushed past him, suddenly grateful you hadn’t worn the heels when your knees gave a funny little tremble. 

He moved, as if to catch you, as if to hold you still while he came up with whatever bullshit excuse he could think of–but you were faster, putting the crowd and tables between the two of you as you made a break for the door.

Emma, Emma, Emma.

Tom was with her, her skinny knees in his lap as they split a delicate almond biscuit. 

“Mum?” Her head went up, sniffing the air. “Mum, what’s wrong?”

Tom knew. He looked at you, guilty as sin. “Love,” he began, but you were already ripping her out of his arms, her arms and legs flailing as you made a break for the parking lot.

The funeral home’s door burst open, slamming against the wall with a crash that had you shoving your daughter into the back of your car, utterly deaf to her squawking. 

But John had already seen her. Smelled her. He stood in front of you, frozen in place.

“How old is she?” He asked, deadly calm. His blue eyes burned, like they used to when he was a teen, hormonal and angry. Always so angry.

“Go fuck yourself, Mctavish,” you snapped, reaching for your door. 

He was already there, hand slamming against your car door with a crack that split the air. Johnny really was different now, confidence stiffening his spine, his sheer size making you take a step back. 

What did they do to him overseas? He looked like he was about to eat you alive.

“No,” John said, sounding like a wounded animal. “Ye wouldn’t keep something like this from me.” “You’re right,” you said coldly. “I wouldn’t have. Then I spent three years of her life waiting for you to get your head out of your fucking arse. I called. I emailed. I sent a hundred fucking letters.” He made a noise like you gutted him, his eyes going to Emma.

She was curled up in the back of your car, wide-eyed and staring at John. Her father.

Of course she would know. She could smell it on him, her own flesh and blood.

“I…I didn’t know,” John said, “Hen, look at me-”

“I don’t care.” You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. You wanted to dig your nails into his skin and hurt him like he hurt you. “We don’t need you, we never needed you. I loved you, and you left for years. Deal with the consequences.”

Johnny Mctavish, a wolf, a soldier, flinched from you. 

It wasn’t the victory you thought it would be.

You ripped your door open, and he let you. You put the car in reverse and sped out of the parking lot, and he let you.

“Mum?” Emma said cautiously. “Mum was that…”

“We’ll never see him again, Em,” you said, utterly sure of that fact. “Forget him. John always runs.”

#soap mactavish #cod x reader #cod mw3 #soap x reader #john soap mactavish

[morningfears]

Second Chance

rating: pg

Summary: Ashton was your first love. It was a case of right person, wrong time. But sometimes, life gives you second chances. Warnings: None, just cute and soft. Pairing: Ashton x GN!Reader (Pretty sure GN but if you catch anything, let me know and I’ll change it to the correct pairing) Word Count: 1.5k

Though nearly six years had passed since your last first date with Ashton, it felt as if nearly no time at all had elapsed as you sat across from him. That last first date, one that also spanned an entire evening, launched a two-year relationship. It found your first love and you felt a sort of deja vu as he easily recounted a new tale from tour.

This Ashton - years older, years wiser - was simultaneously familiar and so very different. He still carried himself with an ease you found comforting, armed with a bright smile and infectious laughter, but there were more layers now. Behind those hazel eyes lingered a deeper understanding of the world, an understanding of life that hadn’t been present at twenty-three and you did nothing to hide the soft smile that lifted the corners of your mouth as he gestured wildly.

“So, did Cal ever realize it was Luke hiding his shoes or does he still think it was Michael?”

Empty coffee cups lingered on the table, long since cleared of your dinner plates, as the restaurant slowly closed around you. Hours had passed, spent lost in conversation - catching up on lost time, listening to the melodic sound of his voice - and you knew you’d have to leave soon.

Still, rather than relaying that thought, you leaned forward with a grin as you waited for his answer.

“Think he realized after a few shows,” Ashton admitted, laughing as he idly wrapped a hand around an empty cup. “Wouldn’t surprise me if he’s waiting to get him back, though. Luke’ll have forgotten all about it by the time Cal attacks.”

“You know, it’s kinda comforting to know that no matter how much things change, some things stay the same.”

Both of you had grown since you last saw one another. Your early twenties were gone, replaced by true adulthood - a career, taxes, responsibilities that sometimes seemed overwhelming - and it was evident in the conversation you’d had. There’d been discussion of family, friends and their marriages and their children; there’d been talk of work, of the inability to recover the way you used to; there’d been a whole tangent about diets and playful complaints at the fact that spicy food grew harder to stomach the older you got.

But knowing that there were still those moments of levity calmed any remaining nerves lingering in the pit of your stomach. Because as different as things were, there was still a glimpse of the Ashton you fell in love with and it made you hopeful that things might be different this time.

Ashton opened his mouth to respond, words on the tip of his tongue, but before he could speak, a soft voice popped through the bubble you’d spent most of the night in.

“Sorry,” she began, politely apologetic. “Just wanted to check in. We’re closing the kitchen so, if you’d like anything else, now is the time. And if not, I’ve got the check.”

The pair of you blinked, both surprised at the time as you spared a glance around the now empty restaurant, before you grimaced apologetically. “Sorry,” Ashton laughed, “didn’t realize how late it was. We’re good.”

“Yeah, we’ll get out of here so you guys can close. Sorry,” you repeated, following suit as Ashton stood from his seat and took the bill.

In a matter of moments, you were standing outside the restaurant, glancing back as the staff turned the sign and began closing up. It reminded you of the past, of nights when you’d close down restaurants just to spend a few extra hours together after he returned from the road, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you headed for the parking lot.

“Guess some things don’t change.” He grinned, eyes bright and glittering in the city lights as he drifted closer to you. His hand bumped yours, body bleeding warmth as tipped his head to glance at you.

“Can’t believe we spent all night sitting there.” It was a quiet observation, whispered into the wind as you wandered slowly down the sidewalk. “Felt like no time at all.”

“It was always like that with us,” he reminded you - as if you’d somehow forgotten just how easy things were for most of your relationship. “Even at the end, we could talk forever and not get tired of one another.”

“I think the accent helped back then.” Ashton rolled his eyes fondly, laughing as his hand brushed yours once more, while you ducked your head. “You’ve always been easy to talk to. You’re kinda captivating, Ash.”

It was true. Ashton had always captured your attention wholly. His voice, warm and honeyed; his way with words, always so thoughtful and intriguing; his general demeanor, easy and bright - everything about him made you want to lose yourself in him and you continued to be reminded of why you’d loved him so fiercely for so long.

“You’re one to talk, sweetheart.”

There was little you could say in response, little your brain seemed to process, so you opted for the next best thing. After a moment’s hesitation, you took Ashton’s hand in your own and laced your fingers together. From the corner of your eye, you saw his grin grow wider - beaming, even in the dim moonlight - and smiled as you drew closer to the car.

The night was coming to an end, as sad as that made you, but you could see more nights like it in your future.

Conversation tapered off into comfortable silence then, neither of you compelled to speak just for the sake of it, and it was yet another reminder of what you’d missed. Things with Ashton had always held a level of ease that no one else had compared to and it was comforting to revel in the quiet, even as you climbed into the car and an old rock song began to play.

As Ashton tapped his fingers along to the song on the radio, you took the opportunity to study him. He sat bathed in the warm glow of streetlights, side profile exactly as you remembered it. There were a few minute changes - his hair had grown a little longer, facial hair covered cheeks that had grown a bit fuller - but you were reminded of why you’d always fawned over him.

There was something magnetic about him, something bright and beautiful that drew you in and kept you tethered in his orbit. He’d always been beautiful, both physically and mentally, and you were grateful for the chance to reconnect.

However, all too soon, you found yourselves parked in the lot of your building and heading up the sidewalk to your door.

“This was nice,” you conceded, smiling as you lingered near your front door. “I missed this.” With only a split second of consideration, brain working on overdrive to rid itself of any doubt, you admitted, “I missed you.”

Ashton, whose cheeks tinted pink beneath the scruff of his facial hair in a way that made your chest ache pleasantly, smiled brightly as he nodded. “I missed you, too.” His agreement was easy, ready, as he took a tentative step closer. “I’m really glad you said yes to tonight. I was afraid you wouldn’t.”

“I never considered anything other than yes.” There’d been no real thought, no other answer you could’ve given him. Though your relationship ended way back when, Ashton had always been the one that got away. Getting a second chance was more than you could’ve asked for. “I’m really glad we bumped into each other.”

It was a moment of serendipity, a coincidence that hadn’t occurred in the years you’d spent apart, and you knew Ashton was just as happy for the chance as he nodded his agreement.

Another step closer, another smile, as Ashton seemed to weigh his words. “I didn’t know if we’d see each other again,” he admitted, voice quiet as he closed the distance between you. “I always wanted to, always thought about reaching out, but I was afraid. I’m glad the universe made the decision for us.”

Ashton lifted his hand, soft and warm as it pressed to your cheek, and leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I want to do this right this time,” he declared, voice soft and washing over you as your eyes fluttered. “I don’t want to rush and fuck it all up again.”

“No one fucked it up last time,” you reminded him, tone matching his as you gripped his bicep softly. “It was just the wrong time. Things are different now, though.”

“Second time’s the charm.” His easy agreement was all you needed to close the small space between you once more, returning your lips to his in another soft kiss.

The second chance was what you both needed, another shot at a love you’d missed so dearly, and you were glad to have gotten it. No matter what happened, you were hopeful that this time, the second time would be the charm.

_________________________________________________

Author's Note: I dunno, man. I'm just writing while my brain will let me.

#5sos imagine #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin x you #ashton irwin x reader #5sos imagines #5sos x you #5sos x reader #ashton irwin imagines #ashton irwin fic #5sos fanfic #5sos fics #5sos fluff #v's fics

[goodnightmemes]

INTERSTELLAR (2014) SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ I thought you were the ghost. ❜

❛ You got to figure it out. I'm not always gonna be here to help you. ❜

❛ Well, I guess that answers the old "if I asked you to drive off a cliff" scenario. ❜

❛ It's like we've forgotten who we are. Explorers, pioneers, not caretakers. ❜

❛ You're the one who doesn't belong. Born 40 years too late, or 40 years too early. ❜

❛ We used to look up in the sky and wonder at our place in the stars. Now we just look down and worry about our place in the dirt. ❜

❛ You were good at something and you never got a chance to do anything with it. I'm sorry. ❜

❛ Don't make me take you down again. Sit down! ❜

❛ It's pretty clear you don't want any visitors. So why don't you just let us back up from your fence and we'll be on our way? Huh? ❜

❛ You're sitting in the best-kept secret in the world. Nobody stumbles in here. Nobody stumbles out. ❜

❛ I hesitate to term it supernatural, but it definitely wasn't scientific. ❜

❛ We'll find a way. We always have. ❜

❛ Okay, now you need to tell me what your plan is to save the world. ❜

❛ We're not meant to save the world. We're meant to leave it. ❜

❛ You're asking me to hang everything on an almost. ❜

❛ I'm asking you to trust me. ❜

❛ This world was never enough for you, was it? ❜

❛ Don't trust the right thing done for the wrong reason. ❜

❛ Mankind was born on Earth, it was never meant to die here. ❜

❛ We're just here to be memories for our kids. ❜

❛ Once you're a parent, you're the ghost of your children's future. ❜

❛ You have no idea when you're coming back. No idea at all! ❜

❛ Don't make me leave like this. Come on! Don't make me leave like this! ❜

❛ I love you. Forever. You hear me? I love you forever, and I'm coming back. ❜

❛ We're going to be spending a lot of time together. We should learn to talk. ❜

❛ Absolute honesty isn't always the most diplomatic, nor the safest form of communication with emotional beings. ❜

❛ We'll be waiting for you when you get back. A little older, a little wiser, but happy to see you. ❜

❛ You don't think nature can be evil? ❜

❛ Why are you whispering? They can't hear you. ❜

❛ This gets to me. This. Millimeters of aluminum, that's it, and then nothing out there for millions of miles won't kill us in seconds. ❜

❛ Everybody ready to say goodbye to our solar system? ❜

❛ You can't just think about your family. Now you have to think bigger. ❜

❛ I told you to leave me! Why didn't you? ❜

❛ One of us was thinking about the mission! ❜

❛ I was trying to do the right thing! ❜

❛ Oh, we are not prepared for this. ❜

❛ You eggheads have the survival skills of a Boy Scout troop. ❜

❛ Time is relative, okay? It can stretch and it can squeeze, but it can't run backwards, it just can't. ❜

❛ When you become a parent, one thing becomes really clear. And that is that you want to make sure your children feel safe. ❜

❛ I thought I was prepared. I knew the theory. Reality's different. ❜

❛ There's nothing here for us. ❜

❛ So it would be a real good time for you to come back. ❜

❛ I didn't mean to intrude. It's just that I've never seen you in here before. ❜

❛ I'm not afraid of death. I'm afraid of time. ❜

❛ Are you calling my life's work nonsense? ❜

❛ Love isn't something we invented. It's observable, powerful. It has to mean something. ❜

❛ Love is the one thing we're capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space. Maybe we should trust that, even if we can't understand it yet. ❜

❛ I let you all down. ❜

❛ Pray you never learn just how good it can be to see another face. ❜

❛ I hadn't a lot of hope to begin with, but after so long, I had none. ❜

❛ I just want to know if you left me here to die. I just have to know. ❜

❛ There are some things that aren't meant to be known. ❜

❛ We can care deeply, selflessly about those we know, but that empathy rarely extends beyond our line of sight. ❜

❛ Panic won't help. We just have to keep working, same as ever. ❜

❛ Before you get all teary, remember that as a robot I have to do anything you say. ❜

❛ A machine doesn't improvise well because you can't program a fear of death. Our survival instinct is our single greatest source of inspiration. ❜

❛ When I left Earth, I thought I was prepared to die. ❜

❛ Nothing worked out the way it was supposed to. ❜

❛ You fucking coward. ❜

❛ Listen, if you're not going to go, let your family go. Just save your family. ❜

❛ Dad's not coming back. He never was coming back. ❜

❛ You're gonna save everybody? ❜

❛ He left us here to die. ❜

❛ Don't judge me. You were never tested like I was. Few men have been. ❜

❛ You're feeling it, aren't you? The survival instinct. That's what drove me. it's what drives all of us. ❜

❛ I'm sorry, I can't watch you go through this. I'm sorry. I thought I could, but I can't. ❜

❛ The only way humans have ever figured out of getting somewhere is to leave something behind. ❜

❛ No, don't go. Don't go, you idiot. ❜

❛ They didn't bring us here to change the past. ❜

❛ I don't care who describes it, there is no way for it to be exaggerated. It was that bad. ❜

❛ Is this really what it was like? ❜

❛ I don't care much for this pretending we're back where we started. I want to know where we are. Where we're going. ❜

❛ Nobody believed me. But I knew you'd come back. ❜

❛ No parent should have to watch their own child die. ❜

#rp meme #sentence starters #sentence starter meme #rp sentence meme #roleplay prompts #roleplay meme #rp prompt #rp memes #inbox meme #*movie

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

Better Off - Bernard DeMarco x OFC - Chapter 4

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |-| Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

AO3

Summary: Years before Susie's arrival at Thorpe Abbotts, one fateful loss changes the course of her life forever

Warnings: Grief, death, language, ANGST, dysfunctional family idk

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags: @xxluckystrike @latibvles @footprintsinthesxnd @mads-weasley @joyfulbookreviewmarvelspy

January, 1941

The church was quiet, rows of pews worn and bare. Sunlight flooded in through the tall, narrow windows, casting blocks of light against whitewashed walls, and the low, gentle chatter of guests in the doorway did nothing to rouse Susie from her daze, huddled at the furthest end of the front row of pews, tucked into the corner as if it would make her invisible. An old bible rested on the bench beside her, tattered and yellowed, and she ran her thumb across the blunted corners of the paper, never venturing far enough to open it, the words repulsive to her.

Her mother's voice always plucked itself from a crowd, that warm, Irish lilt in stark contrast against the rough, Mancunian drawl possessed by her children, as if they belonged to the city before they did her. She didn't bother listening in to the others' conversations - didn't try to distinguish the voices of strangers from those of her blood. None of them could have had anything even remotely interesting to say to her.

The pew creaked beside her, and Susie glanced up as Beatrice took her seat, leaving a few metres of separation between the pair of them. Three years her elder, her sister dressed head-to-toe in black, gloved hands clutching at her purse, hair curling neatly below her ears, immaculately done makeup obscured by the veil that hung in front of her face. Susie looked down at her own clothes - a white button down, an old brown skirt - it wasn't right, wasn't traditional or proper, but it was what she had.

"No husband?" She asked, a hint of an edge lacing her voice. Beatrice sucked in a long breath, chest heaving with the weight of it.

"No. He's busy."

"I bet he is."

Finally turning to look at her, venom in her gaze, Beatrice opened her mouth to speak, Susie already itching to interrupt her. But both fell silent, jaws snapping shut as another figure sat down in between them, a human barrier to prevent the inevitable spat before it could form.

"Always classy, girls," Sally huffed, newborn cradled in one arm, the other elbow propped up against the back of the pew as she kept an eye on her other son.

Beatrice sighed, posture relaxing as she let go of the offensive. No one questioned Sally - the eldest sister who had lifted them in her arms the way she now did her own children, who had wiped their tears and cleaned their scraped knees when their parents had been preoccupied. So much older and wiser than the rest of them, there was a removal there, as if she could no longer quite be considered their sister, their equal.

Susie shifted in her seat, wincing slightly as a dull ache shot through her thigh. She could feel Sally's gaze fixed on her. "Susie," She spoke gently, the infant in her arms gurgling away to itself. "How long have you been sitting here?"

"Four hours."

"Jesus Christ," Beatrice muttered, staring up at the altar, unable to tear her eye from the framed photo of Ellie that beamed back at them. They'd chosen a photo of her as a child - why had they done that? That wasn't the Ellie she'd pulled from the rubble the morning after the bombs had fallen. That wasn't the Ellie shut away inside the casket. She didn't remember her that way. Anyone who did wasn't welcome here in Susie's eyes.

A clatter of books against the stone floor sounded behind them as Sally's other son knocked over a pile of Bibles, guilt flushing his cheeks a bright red as the crowd gathered by the door turned to stare. With a quick summons from his mother, he scrambled to his seat, little feet dangling over the edge of the pew, hands fidgeting restlessly. She heaved a long, heavy sigh, unable to look at the altar for more than a few seconds at a time. "At least she's with dad now."

Susie hummed. She didn’t have the heart to tell her she didn’t believe in God anymore.

They were separated irreparably now. Even today, not everyone was here. Ronnie and Patrick were still away fighting overseas, and Nancy had been noisily sobbing in the back corner since she arrived, her son sitting awkwardly in the opposite pew waiting for it all to be over. The sound of footsteps along the aisle drew Susie's gaze, and something lifted within her.

"Owen," She breathed, jumping to her feet and bounding over to meet her big brother. His eyes were bloodshot, gaze jittery and unable to meet hers - but then again, he never had liked to look her in the eye. She didn't mind it. Her hand found his arm, pressing reassuringly against the sleeve of his uniform, adorned with the emblem of the RAF Medical Services. "Come sit down, yeah?"

"Is-... Is she in the box?" He asked quietly, nervously glancing at the pallbearers.

Susie frowned, brow drawn. "No," She lied. "No, Ellie's not in there. It's just tradition - what Ma wanted."

"Ok. Yeah, ok, I'll sit," Owen nodded, and she noticed the fresh tears soaking the cuff of his sleeve from where he'd wiped them away on his way in. She offered him the seat that had once been hers, letting him press his body into the wood at the end of the bench, shying away from the crowds, shoulder hunched to avoid brushing against hers. Owen had never quite been considered normal - Ronnie used to get into trouble for beating other boys up at school in defence of his little brother - but it had only meant he never minded that Susie wasn't quite normal either. There was a solidarity in that, a shared acceptance that they weren't how the world tried to shape them.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Everyone cried during the ceremony. Everyone except Susie.

A nauseating guilt swelled within her as her brother and sisters quietly wept at her sides, and she squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she possibly could, willing a tear to fall, manifesting some sign of the grief within. What must they have thought of her? Her cold stare overseeing it all, flinching at every prayer. It was the perfect protestant funeral, the kind only their mother could have mustered.

She couldn't have left fast enough once it was all over, Owen's gentle grip on her cardigan using her as a guide through the crowds as they wormed their way through towards the door. Their house was a mere five doors down from the church, a looming presence throughout their childhood, a lingering reminder that someone was watching. But even in her home, she wasn't spared the misery.

Susie scarcely recognised half the people at Ellie's wake - crowding the kitchen, sitting in their chairs and lingering in the stairwell. What did any of them know - truly know - about her sister? Had they even had time to know her? Nineteen was too young to die. Too young for death to have any meaning. If the bombs had to kill someone, they should've killed Susie. At least then there'd have been some semblance of military strategy to it. No one won wars by slaughtering teenagers.

There was an empty cup in her hand as she sat at the kitchen table. She couldn't remember what had been in it. Upon the stove, the kettle was boiling, splitting the din of chatter with its unrelenting squeal. She squeezed the glass so tight she worried it might shatter, knuckles turning white with the pressure. Her mother passed behind her, absent-mindedly stroking her hair, warm palm skimming against her scalp. She wanted it to stay, wanted to lean back into it, but it was gone as soon as it came. Susie pushed her chair out, the legs screeching across the floor, bumping into a man she'd never met as she stood up, shouldering her way to the door.

It was almost silent in the attic, layers of brick and wood muffling the sound of voices. Laying back on her bed, she stared up at the roofing beams, the lingering smell of Ellie's perfume permeating the bedsheets. From the day she'd been old enough to leave the crib they'd shared this bed, shunting Patrick onto the narrow one in the corner - this was the girls' space, the floral quilts a private temple where only they existed. Lying on her side of it now, it felt uneven, like the whole thing would lose balance and tip over sideways, Ellie's presence necessary to its survival. Or maybe she was just necessary for Susie's.

Dust floated on the air, catching the light that flowed in through a leak in the ceiling. Her hand rested on the other side of the bed, the vague imprint of Ellie's body still engraved into the old mattress. It needed replacing years ago, but suddenly it was invaluable. On Christmas Eve night, the night after she'd died, Susie had stayed up all through the dark, lying in the impression of her sister, terrified it would lose her outline if she just left it there. But it never did.

The house had never been so full and so empty. Her brothers were aiding the war effort, billeted all over the place. Her sisters had all gotten married - found their own homes to raise their own children. She and Ellie had stayed up here in their attic, tucked beneath the covers like little girls again.

A creak on the stairs ripped her from her trance, her mother's head peering up through the trap door.

"I didn't know you were up here."

"That's ok."

Each floorboard let out an agonised creak as she crossed them, hands folded nervously at her front. Freshly forty years old, she looked at least a decade older, heavy bags of exhaustion tugging down on her eyelids. She wore the only black dress she owned, spotted with white polka dots, a stubborn coffee stain browning the hem where she could never quite scrub it away. The bed rocked towards Ellie's side as she climbed beneath the sheets, laying down in the space she had once owned.

All at once she seemed a child, tugging the blankets up to her chin, eyes squeezed shut as if willing sleep to claim her. She turned into Susie's side, pulling in a long breath. She wondered if she could smell Ellie here too.

"Can I sleep here tonight?" She asked meekly, like a girl begging her parents after a nightmare.

Susie's head lolled to the side, brow furrowed as she looked over at her. "Yeah, sure Ma. I'll go downstairs."

"Please don't."

It was silent for a while. Then the rustling of sheets sounded as Susie turned onto her side facing away from her mother, unable to bear staring at her for too long. She scarcely knew the woman lying next to her. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd climbed the steps to read them to sleep up here. Long gone were the days when Susie wished she would, but her absence could still be read in the room - in the drawings on the walls that no one had ever been scolded for, that no one had ever tried covering up because no one ever came to see them. This was their own little world, and she wasn't sure she wanted her mother up here at all.

"I'm sorry if I was a bad Ma," She spoke, voice muffled slightly by the pillow.

Susie took a deep breath, shoulders rising and falling with it. "You tried."

If nothing else, she knew that was true. Her mother had tried. She'd made half a dozen breakfasts with a baby on one hip. She'd read every report card and double-checked their homework when she managed to understand it. She'd stifled the pain of becoming a widow to tend to the pain of a bumped head or bruised elbow.

But she'd also let them go to bed hungry. She'd lied to their schools about their birthdays so they could drop out before their time. She'd been too poor and had too many children, and Susie wasn't sure she'd ever forgive her for it.

She needed to leave this house. The prospect of sleeping alone in this bed was worse than any other fate she could imagine. Already she could feel herself sticking - if she didn't tear herself away now she never would. Could she truly face driving past the wreckage of the factories every day on her way to Ridgeway? It would take months to rebuild. Months of remembering the moment she'd see her face, blood streaking through the brick dust, eyes half open and unseeing.

"Get some sleep. I'll bring you up some tea when everyone's left," Susie muttered, peeling the sheets away from her body and climbing out of bed, rubbing her eyes with the balls of her palms.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Beatrice stood on the doorstep, a cloud of cigarette smoke wafting in front of her face as she watched a child play in the gutter outside the wash house across the yard. The four walls that encircled their court of back-to-backs had once been their entire world. She remembered it looking bigger than this. There were rumours they'd be knocking houses like these down soon - no one wanted to move into them, these dilapidated remnants of a time long passed.

The sound of feet scuffing against tile alerted her to Susie's presence, sliding into the doorway beside her, wordlessly extending her hand for a cigarette. Beatrice passed one to her, holding out a lighter, the pair exhaling puffs of smoke simultaneously.

Who were they to each other? Susie stared back at her sister and realised she didn't have any idea.

"Ellie always used to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up," She mused, watching on as the child across the yard was hurried inside by its mother, casting them a sympathetic glance as she went.

"She asked everyone that."

"Yeah. But she asked me the most, 'cause I never had an answer."

"Do you have one now?"

"... Don't think so."

The war made dreams insignificant. Nothing was about how they wanted to live anymore, everything was about what others needed them to be.

Beatrice had long discarded her hat, its presence remembered in the halo of frizz it left behind around her scalp. "What did she want to be again?"

"It was a ballerina for a while, then a painter I think. Or a writer. Might've been both."

"Don't forget when she wanted to be a scientist."

"Of course. And a pilot."

They'd begun to smile. When it had happened, she couldn't recall. But Ellie's mind had always been so far away, so filled to burst with a million dreams and ideas and fantasies that no one had any clue what she would go on to do. In the end, she did nothing. She had wished to change the world, and she had died on the floor of a textile mill.

A man in uniform came down the alleyway into the yard, hands folded politely behind his back as he approached the house. His gaze was fixed on Beatrice, as if Susie wasn't there at all.

"Car for you, ma'am."

"Thanks," She nodded, stomping her cigarette butt out on the front step. Taking a few steps away from the house, she turned, letting out a sigh as she fumbled with her purse. "Let Mum know I've gone, yeah? And Nancy."

"You're not staying for dinner?"

For a moment a look of shock flashed across her sister's face, as if appalled she'd even ask. "No. I need to be back in London by the time William gets home."

"Why? Not like you cook or anything."

Beatrice stared at her for a moment, grip on her bag tightening. "Mind your business, Susie."

Susie flicked her cigarette into the puddle at her sister's feet, the door closing on her with a slam. As she came inside, Nancy reached the bottom of the stairs, glancing out of the window behind her.

"Beatrice left?"

"Fucking bitch," She muttered, dragging one of the chairs away from the table to sit down.

"Don't say that."

"Fine. I love it when she comes up here in her fancy car to grace us with her condescending presence and remind us all that she doesn't have to be poor anymore."

Nancy gnawed at the inside of her cheek, wordlessly refilling the kettle and placing it on the stovetop. Her eyes were still red, and Susie suspected she'd gone upstairs to cry again. She'd always been the sensitive one of the bunch.

"I'm moving out," She said, the words seeming to echo back to her in the tiny kitchen.

"... Alright." Nancy nodded, something tight in her tone, as if she'd spoken through clenched teeth. "... Where will you go?"

"I was looking at Norfolk. There's some positions open down there, I could actually get promoted."

"That's a long way."

"... Yeah, Nance."

That's the fucking point.

#masters of the air #masters of the air oc #masters of the air fic #bernard demarco #bernard demarco x oc #fic | better off #demarco x susie #oc: susie

[palettesofrenaissance]

Hey. I got a short drabble idea for your Wonka story, if you'll have it. Since you're trying to get into more dark stuff.

The idea is this: Wonka thinks he has Sapphire and Ruby trapped in his "wonderland", but by some freak accident, they find a way to escape and he. is. pissed.

✎ᝰ ── 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨! I'm thoroughly relieved to be finished with this and excited to be posting this. this is my first dark!fic. don't expect this to be like my previous stories. this is the first thing I've written that I had fun with. it's the first serious thing I've done since struggling with writer's block. this prompt fill is the one after after the intro fic (this is what I've been up to lately. join me!)

Permanent Marker  · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · INTRO/AU CONCEPT

Location Services: OFF  · · · · · · · · · · · · · THIS PROMPT

𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: Dark!AU, Future Fic, Canon Compliant. Prompt-driven story

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: The saying goes: “Never, ever accept a gift from a fae. And never, ever verbally say thank you for a gift. It implies that the receiver owes them something, like food, your firstborn, or a favor (no matter how deranged).”

If only she had known this warning when meeting the unpredictable, tricky, and arrogant magician Willy Wonka. She fears her precious daughter is going to have to pay the ultimate price for her moment of temporary short-sightedness. Especially when her daughter doesn't heed her warnings.

People change over the years. People are also multifaceted and can have contradicting factors about themselves. Her daughter will find that she was kept away and hidden for a reason.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: love/hate, meet rude/meet ugly, secret children, mentions of violence/blood during a hallucination, abuse of trust, Willy is a bit rude, obsessive and dark Willy Wonka, dark fairytale elements, and taking inspiration from the actor's few insane moments and running with it

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Written in 3rd person. Named child character. Named mother!reader if you want to imagine that, or named OC; she's named Sapphire, inspired by the singing lady in the tram scene

“I was young when I first made the deal with him,” she had described herself to Noodle Slugworth Smith, the next in line to inherit the Slugworth empire and fortune. When she first met the soon-to-be-known magician she was indeed several years younger than him despite looking older than she actually was… She wonders if that was another reason he continuously manipulated her and kept her in his clutches…

To be exact, she first “met” him in passing on a tram car on the way to clock-in at her job. He’d been posing as a tram ticket collector and had offered her and a friend a piece of chocolate each to sample—something she would have declined had her friend not pointed him out and his reputation throughout the past several months not preceded him.

But even before he announced himself and began handing out samples throughout the tram car, Sapphire had thought none the wiser, his face blending in among the sea of others. That, along with already being distracted because she was on her way to work, then the candy’s influence to dance and sing on the crowded tram that quickly became overwhelming before the police even showed up, she wouldn’t have been able to pick out his face from a line-up even if she wanted to.

Which is why when she came across him once more sometime later, it made sense why she hadn’t recognized him: clothes really can make the difference about a person.

Now sometime later and at a laundromat on a rainy day, Sapphire has no reason to know that the tall man alone in a far corner was the previously unknown, enigmatic chocolatier that swept in and gradually took her city by storm. At the laundromat, he looks so ordinary and unnoticeable, staring off at a point unseen. She doesn’t give him any acknowledgement beyond a few glances to mind her distance.

It has been an angry and dark overcast for the past week, the air heavy with humidity and the promise of rain that never came.

‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Keep reading

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