#berlin x oc

[manisca-rye]

Dreams of Grandeur and Paradise

Title: Dreams of Grandeur and Paradise (Part 1)

Rating: M

Pairing: Berlin/Andrés de Fonollosa x OC

Word Count: 5K

Synopsis: The day the most iconic heist in history began at the Royal Mint of Spain, Francisca Martínez was working her last shift of the week in the cafeteria of the museum as a waitress. The heist lasts a total of six days, during which time Francisca finds herself getting too comfortable with her hostage status as she develops a decidedly unhealthy fascination with the leader of the heist, an enigmatic man called Mr. Berlin.

Contains: unequal power dynamics, smut, possible stockholm syndrome

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Segment I: A Robbery At The Royal Mint

Friday

The atmosphere at the cafeteria of the Royal Mint of Spain was as busy as it ever was on a Friday morning and so I went about my work duties, serving patrons with their food orders and ensuring everything was running smoothly on my part. I had been at this job as a waitress for two years now and had come to enjoy the various interactions I had with the patrons that often came by the cafeteria.

I had come in for my morning shift and began work at seven o'clock, and now a little more than three hours into my shift, the morning breakfast crowd of patrons had slowed down and so I was performing clean-up duty as I went around the tables of the cafeteria collecting anything left behind and wiping down the tables while I sang along to the music playing in the cafeteria and paid faint attention to the chattering of the other cafeteria workers.

As I made my way back to the kitchen of the cafeteria, the sudden opening of the cafeteria doors caught my attention as two people dressed in red jumpsuits and pointing guns in my direction made me drop the cleaning items I was holding as I froze in fear for a momentary second. The next few minutes were chaotic as I, along with all the other employees of the cafeteria, were led out by the armed robbers until we found ourselves in the main hall of the museum where we were instructed to cover our eyes with sleep masks.

I could hear the sounds of people sobbing as we stood around waiting for the unknown, and my own terror at the current situation made me cry quietly right along with the others. I listened to the voice of one of the robbers as he gave a speech that explained our current circumstances and warned us of the importance of obeying their instructions. After completing several rounds of the instructed breathing exercises, I found myself gradually calming down enough to stop crying and was left shivering in fearful anticipation.

It was nerve wracking to stand in wait silently, and when the alarms began to go off, I hoped that meant that the police would be alerted to what was happening and rescue us before the robbers could do anything to harm anyone. The next moments were filled with the sound of gunfire going off and the screams of everyone taken hostage and time seemed to stop as my terror came back tenfold.

Segment II: We Are Now Hostages

It had now been a few hours since the robbers had entered the royal mint and taken everyone hostage. In that time, we had all our phones confiscated and we were currently seated on the floor of the main hall, still blindfolded as we waited while hoping for the police to negotiate our release. I continually tried to distract myself with happier memories and my terror at my current situation was minimally lessened if nothing else.

I was taken out of my thoughts by the orders to stand up and take our masks off. I blinked as my eyesight adjusted to the light after having been kept in the dark for so long. Cautiously looking around I could see most of the other hostages wore varying expressions of tiredness and fear as we listened to the robber that had introduced himself as the leader, Mr Berlin, explain that we were going to receive sleeping bags, sandwiches and water in preparation for sleep. He went on to announce that we would also be required to wear red jumpsuits similar to the ones the robbers wore and would be given fake guns to be used at a later time. Despite the circumstances, I eagerly consumed the sandwiches and water, having not realised how hungry I was with the passing of time.

After finishing our meals, we received masks similar to the ones worn by the robbers and engaged in what I later figured out was almost a confrontation with the police. Thereafter, the kidnappers instructed different groups of people to follow them and be put to work while the rest of us that remained would get a chance to sleep. I fell asleep soon after getting into my sleeping bag, hoping that when I woke up, the nightmare I found myself in would have somehow ended.

Segment III: Medication and Gunshots

Saturday

When I next woke up, the nightmare had not ended and I found myself still being held hostage in the royal mint. I could feel what I guessed was a stress-induced headache coming on, and so I tried breathing exercises to calm myself but that didn't seem to be helping no matter how much I willed myself calm. I had experienced similar headaches in the past, most often in the year following my Mother's death but had learnt to manage my tiredness and stress as the years went by.

The speech given by Mr Berlin about ensuring no one became depressed by assigning us all tasks was cut short when he came and stood in front of the older woman that was sobbing in front of me. After offering anxiety medication to the sobbing woman, the question was asked if anyone else needed medication and after a few more people spoke up, I raised my hand and was called on, “I need pain killers.”  

After the robber called Nairobi had collected a group of men to follow her, we were each allowed to record videos for our families. I had no immediate family to speak of since my Mother's passing six years ago and my Father's death a decade ago. I had no siblings as I had been an only child and any extended family I had left, I was not particularly close to. Nonetheless, I thought about what I would like to say to the people I considered family, my closest friends and my Mother's closest friends that I considered my own aunties.

“Hello. This is Francisca. Francisca Martínez. I am doing well. We are being well looked after and the robbers are not violent. I hope to see you all again soon, and wish you well for now.” I breathed deeply after my video had been recorded, with the assurance that our videos would be seen by our loved ones on the outside. I was led to an upstairs office where the people that had requested medication earlier were sitted and waiting in tense silence while we were watched over by one of the large and strong-looking robbers.

I was seated closest to the door and so was given the medication to distribute when it was delivered by one of the younger-looking robbers, passing the bag around for everyone to collect their medication. I gratefully took the painkillers and waited for the medicine to start taking effect.

After what could have been an hour or less, I realised that the Director's secretary Ms Monica Gaztambide had not returned after having accompanied the robber out of the office. I only knew of Ms Gaztambide through our limited interactions when she would come by the cafeteria on occasion, but hoped that she was doing well and hoped she would be okay.

The sound of faint gunshots were soon heard and the faint sense of calm I had created for myself vanished in that instant.

Segment IV: The News of Ms Gaztambide's death

Sunday

The next day found our group of five, Alma, Carmen, Elena, Gabriella and I, in the same office we had spent the previous day and night in. I had once again taken another dosage of the painkillers provided yesterday after waking up with another headache and so sat back as I began feeling the slow effects of the medication work to relieve the throbbing pain.

The only chance we got to get out of the room that morning was to go to the bathrooms to relieve ourselves and freshen up as best we could with only the use of limited toiletries, paper towels and water from the handwashing sinks. I stood in front of the mirror as I applied a minimal coating of hand lotion to my face after a wash, giving my dark brown skin a minimally better-looking appearance.

When we returned to the office, we were soon silent as we sat around with not much to do other than reflect on the fact that we were currently hostages. I tried not to feel trapped but the stress of not knowing what was going on was suffocating. Each time we heard gunshots, we feared someone had been shot but received no definitive information from the robbers.

My mind drifted as I continuously wondered if I could have done anything differently on that Friday morning in order to have avoided being caught up in my current situation, though I could not have predicted that I would ever be caught up in such a situation.

By the time one of the younger robbers, Rio, came to distribute food and water, I had decided and worked up the nerve to request being assigned any type of task so as to hopefully occupy my mind enough to momentarily forget what was going on. I requested a private chat and when Rio and I had made our way into the corridor outside the office, I began, “I feel better today than I did yesterday and wanted to find out if there are any tasks I can be assigned to do downstairs.”

“There aren't any tasks that require any more people right now. But I will let you know if that changes.” He replied before he escorted me back to the office and left our group alone. 

The atmosphere of the room was somewhat less anxious with the robber guarding us from outside the door and not in the room with us as the other had been yesterday. We were able to exchange quiet conversation and reassurance to each other as we sat and waited for the unknown.

The chattering abruptly ended as the door opened and in came the robber that had introduced himself as the leader of the heist. The atmosphere of the room became tense as Mr Berlin sat in the chair closest to the door, surveying us all with a look that I could not really read. With a stroke of unfounded bravery, I stared and studied him, looking for something I was not aware of but some part of me was curious about such a man.

Mr Berlin gave a speech about how we were protected from the horror, blood and gunfire that was going on outside of where we were.

I listened to his voice, trying to determine what sort of person would lead such a heist against an institution like the royal mint, when he announced that he had had to order the death of a person in order to maintain order. The tone of voice used by Mr Berlin to describe emotions made it seem like he was firmly detached from the very emotions he described.

The mention of the death of Ms Gaztambide filled me with fear and sadness as I wondered if that meant that we might all lose our lives. Mr Berlin had previously assured everyone that we would not lose our lives if we followed the robbers' rules and I wondered whether Ms Gaztambide had broken one of their rules or they had just turned against her and killed her regardless of their own rules.

Either my sense of bravery had intensified or maybe I was just getting tired of my current circumstance but I raised my hand when he had finished speaking for several moments and when he nodded in affirmation, I took a deep breath as I asked, “You assured us that we would all be safe if we followed the rules and instructions. Did Ms Gaztambide break one of the rules?”

Mr Berlin looked at me directly as he answered, “Ms Gaztambide had hidden a phone away. One of the very first rules given was that no one was allowed to keep any phones with them and no one was allowed to contact the outside world.” He looked at all of us as he reassured, “Nothing will happen to you for as long as you obey the rules and instructions given to you.”

After a few moments of silence, Mr Berlin stood up and made his way to the door, leaving without another word.

My thoughts were filled with sadness for Ms Gaztambide's unfortunate fate and what that meant for the rest of us. But underlying my sadness was a growing morbid curiosity about just what kind of man the leader of the robbers was.

Mr Berlin had previously seemed reassuring, or rather as reassuring as one could be as a kidnapper in a hostage situation, each time he made one of his speeches explaining what was required of those taken hostage. But now I particularly wondered what kind of a man leads criminals to take hostages in such a manner and discusses the death of a woman as though it were a usual everyday happening.

After what felt like a less than three hours later, the sudden sounds of gunshots and screams began ringing out. We all instinctively dived to the floor and were huddled together as the gunfire and screams continued for what felt like an endless amount of time, though was realistically less than half an hour, before all went quiet again.

All five of us checked on one another to make sure everyone was doing okay, reassuring each other of our well being. Carmen noted something that we were all thinking but too afraid to say, “Do you think they killed a lot of people?”

After a beat of silence., I shook my head in disagreement. “The screams indicate that people are still alive enough to scream. It could be the police storming inside.”

“Are we just going to wait here not knowing what's happening out there?” questioned the heavily pregnant Elena angrily.

“What do you want us to do? We don't know if the robbers are right outside the door waiting for one of us to step out of line.” Was the reply from the schoolgirl called Gabriella.

As we lapsed into momentary silence, I looked at the door that was supposed to provide security for those inside the room but now acted as a prison gate to keep us locked and unknowing of what was happening outside.

Segment V: Mr Berlin

As more time passed in anxious waiting, the sound of the door opening was a change in the monotony of our routine as we all turned towards the door to see one of the robbers make his way in. He promptly informed me that I was to be escorted somewhere, hopefully not my sudden death, but I nonetheless followed him as he led me to an office down the hall.

He opened the door and indicated that I should proceed and I did so semi-cautiously and turned as the door closed after me, to face the leader of the robbers where he sat behind the large wooden desk drinking what looked to be wine.

“Francisca Martínez.” Mr Berlin questioned, and I nodded in affirmation while wondering if it had been a question or simply a form of acknowledgment.

“Come closer Miss Martinez.” Mr Berlin implored as he drank his wine with a self assured grace.

I moved several steps and now stood in front of the enormous wooden desk. I finally got a chance to study the leader of the heist up close as he offered me a seat in one of the chairs facing him and I quietly thanked him as I took a seat.

A few moments of muted silence passed before he began, “You would like to be assigned a task downstairs, is that right Francisca?” I simply nodded my affirmation in reply.

“You aren't happy with the consideration offered to you so far?” Mr Berlin asked in a tone of voice that did not indicate what answer he preferred to hear but nonetheless, I replied, “I do appreciate your consideration by giving me medication and feel much better than I did earlier today and yesterday. I don't have any headaches anymore. If it's not a bother, I would like to be assigned work with the other hostages downstairs.”

After another moment of simply holding eye contact, he questioned, “Tell me, what was your job before we commandeered operation of the mint?”

“I worked as a waitress at the cafeteria.” I replied, breaking our continued eye contact as I had begun to feel uncomfortable with the intensity with which he stared at me.

“There's already a team working in the cafeteria to prepare food.” He mentioned in reply. “In fact we already have people for everything.”

I nodded in understanding as I replied,“I can also perform any other required tasks.”

“That's the right attitude to have at a time like this.” He replied as he finished his drink and stood up to pour himself another drink, my eyes following him across the room as I had nothing to say in answer to his comment.

Mr Berlin stood upright by the drink station and took a good drink of his wine, watching me with the eyes of a hawk as the silence stretched on.

I stood up and prepared to ask to leave and return to the other office, when he spoke up in a conversational tone of voice. “When Mussolini was losing the Second World War and a cloud of depression wouldn't allow him to think, he realized that the only thing that could lift his spirits was sex.” I stared at him, listening where I stood. “So, he had a prostitute ensconced in a room next to his office, and would visit her every now and then so she could bring back his joy.”

I took a moment to process what he said, trying to read the meaning under the words and particular example given before I ventured to reply. “I wonder what the prostitute thought of that arrangement and what she thought of the man who had made such an arrangement with her.”

Mr Berlin looked at me with a faint trace of what could have been a smile as he heard what I had said. “Indeed one does wonder. Was it simply the money he offered her in return for her company or was there more to their arrangement.”

“Some women find the idea of illicit sex with men considered immoral to be a thrilling fantasy.” I returned looking at him and allowed myself to admire his physicality despite the wrongness of such emotions, especially given the news of Ms Gaztambide's recent fate.

Mr Berlin seemed to study me as he questioned “Is that a fantasy you've had Francisca?”

I breathed deeply as a brief moment of anxiousness passed through me before I answered, “Not until very recently.”

Mr Berlin turned the chair closest to him to face me as he sat down directly across from where I stood against his desk, before he questioned, “Tell me Francisca, do you consider me an immoral man?”

“Morality is relative, particularly in certain circumstances more so than others. But desire and pleasure are universal.” I answered assuredly, my thoughts focused on this very moment as I awaited his reply.

“Absolutely.” He responded. “Now the question remains if I desire you, Francisca.”

“That's a question only you can answer.” I said as I purposefully looked at him and tried to present myself confidently as I stood looking right at him.

Mr Berlin casually stood up and set aside his glass, walking to where I stood while staring at me with an intensity that evoked further desire in me. He stopped so close to where I stood, his dark eyes looking down into my own dark brown ones as he brought his hand to the side of my neck, holding onto my neck with a measure of force before bringing his lips to slowly trace my jaw as he whispered: “I certainly desire you, Miss Martínez.” Before he brought his lips to my own, kissing me slowly at first with a few kisses before fully covering my lips with his own.

I kissed him back without thought, enjoying the taste of rich wine his lips carried and the feel of his lips against mine as pleasure coursed through my body. We slowly broke apart after a few more moments, and I breathed deeply in order to catch my breath as Mr Berlin brought his hands to my waist and guided me onto the desk while he moved to stand my open legs.

Mr Berlin kissed me again even more fervently and I kissed him back just as fiercely while fisting both hands into the front of his jumpsuit. We were soon stripping out of our clothing in between urgent caresses and fervent kisses. Before long, I found myself laying naked on the desk as I rested one bent leg on the desk, feeling pleasure course through my body as Mr Berlin moved closer between my legs while his hands held my waist.

When I shifted my eyes and was looking directly at him, he thrust into me in one swift motion that left me gasping deeply through a heady mixture of pleasure and pain, before my hands moved to grip the edge of the desk by my head.

Mr Berlin fucked like he seemed to do everything else, with a systematic sense of harsh precision as he thrust in and out. Both his hands held onto my waist tightly as he continued fucking me. Only his low groans alerted me to the fact that even he could succumb to the urges of sexual pleasure.

As I approached climax, Mr Berlin brought the hand that had been against my waist to my throat and held on with the slightest pressure, seemingly intensifying my feelings of ecstasy as I moaned passionately, until eventually, my climax washed over me with the intensity of an explosion that rushed through my body and left me in a whole new state of ecstatic bliss. As I experienced the high of my own ecstasy, I felt when Mr Berlin achieved his own orgasm as his thrusts slowed down and the heat of his climax enhanced my own feelings of calming pleasure as I breathed deeply trying to catch my breath for the next few moments.

I accepted the drink Mr Berlin offered as I finished tying my jumpsuit around my waist, before sitting back comfortably on the sofa set to one side of the room. The atmosphere around us was one that was borne of a sexually satisfied calm that followed a round of good sex.

He handed me my drink as he joined me on the sofa, seeming to study me as I smiled at him before taking a generous sip to taste, the rich flavour of the wine reminding me of the taste of Mr Berlin's lips. Just as I brought my glass away from my lips, there was a rapid knock on the door and both Mr Berlin and I turned to see one of the robbers, Nairobi, followed up her knock by opening the door before coming in. Nairobi spared me a momentary glance before looking at Berlin and giving him an urgent look.

Mr Berlin promptly stood up and I followed suit, setting my glass aside as he informed me that I would be escorted back to the other office shortly and to go and wait outside for Nairobi to escort me back. I nodded in understanding before I went out into the hallway, only faintly catching the words exchanged between Nairobi and Mr Berlin before she was leading me quietly and quickly back down the hallway to the office I had been staying in.

“Thank goodness you're back. We feared the worst when you didn't return after leaving.” Alma said as soon as the door closed after me, and similar sentiments were shared by the other ladies of what had become our unofficial group.

Carmen looked at me curiously as she questioned, “Where were you and what happened?”

I gave them what I hoped was a reassuring smile as I answered, “I went to see the leader of the robbers, Mr Berlin, about getting assigned a task downstairs. And was informed that all the tasks have already been assigned to people and they don't require any extra people.” A version of the truth was always better than trying to lie, which I was not particularly good at anyways, and I could not really explain the whole truth as I was now only coming to my senses as I realised what I had just done.

All the ladies accepted my answer though Carmen still looked at me weirdly and I smiled at her as I reassured her that everything was okay with me and not to worry too much about me.

As the conversation continued among the other ladies, my thoughts came back to me as I recalled the meeting I had had with Mr Berlin. Some part of me had known that I found him attractive and fascinating as soon as I began to observe him intently. I had decisively pushed such thoughts to the back of my mind earlier today after learning about Ms Gaztambide's death and the role he had to play in her demise. I wondered if the fact that I did not regret fucking Mr Berlin despite my sense of sadness over Ms Gaztambide's death, was an indication of my true expression of moral understanding rather than the understanding of morality I thought I held previously regarding murder in any form.

I also pondered whether having sex with Mr Berlin was something I would desire again or whether it had been a one time occurence induced by the stress and atmosphere of the heist. I stood up and went to the table where bottles of water sat, taking one and drinking deeply of the water before joining in the quiet conversations happening.

After what felt like less than an hour, we were told that we would be going out to chat with a member of the police forces to provide proof of life and so we prepared for that task.

When it was my turn, I was escorted by one of the robbers and was led to the main  hall where a female police officer was seated next to Mr Berlin.

“This is Francisca Martínez.” Mr Berlin's voice was clear and precise as I came down the last few steps and stood in front of him and the police officer, who he introduced as a Police Inspector.

“How are you doing Miss Martínez?” She began as she looked at me.

I answered as truthfully as I could while heeding the warnings given beforehand to keep our answers brief when answering the police's questions. “As well as can be.” 

She took a few notes before asking the next question, “How have you been treated so far?”

“I have been treated well enough so far.” I replied as I studied both the Inspector's and Mr Berlin's facial expressions. The Inspector had a measure of concern in her expression while Mr Berlin's face expressed how arrogantly assured he was of the situation, which is an expression he seemed to frequently carry on his face as he stared at me while I answered the Inspector's questions.

After being escorted back to the office where I had spent most of the past two days, I joined the other ladies and shared the way our interviews with the Police Inspector had gone.

Later that night, we had dinner in the same office we had been in all day with the monotony only broken up when we were escorted to the washrooms to use the bathrooms and freshen up as needed. Soon enough we began preparing our sleeping bags for another night spent being held hostage in the offices of the mint, as we were not allowed to go back to the other hostages downstairs and were forced to sleep in this office that had begun to feel claustrophobic despite the veneer of luxury it carried.

I was abruptly woken from my shallow sleep by the sound of a loud explosion that seemed to revibrate all around me. I quickly sat up, scrambling to make sense of what the explosion had been as all that could be heard from outside the door was ringing silence and the sounds of the circling helicopters outside seemed to intensify. I felt a mixture of fear and anticipation as I waited for someone to come through the door to either kill us all or rescue us. The atmosphere among our group was tense and anxious as we all looked at the door that led out of the office we currently occupied. This room we were in could be locked from the outside as we had discovered earlier, and so we were trapped with no way to get out even if the explosion that had woken us up had set fire to the building.

A few minutes after the explosion had rung out, the sound of gunfire began and was loud and continuous. The gunfire continued for what seemed like forever and rang so loudly that by the time all quieted down again, I was left tightly wound in a mixture of anguish and fear as my ears seemed to ring after the constant noise bombardment.

#berlin x oc #berlin x reader #berlin x you #berlin x y/n #berlin x black!reader #berlin x black!oc #berlin poc!reader #Andrés de Fonollosa x reader #Andrés de Fonollosa x oc #Andrés de Fonollosa x you #Andrés de Fonollosa x black!reader #Andrés de Fonollosa x y/n #Andrés de Fonollosa x black!oc #Andrés de Fonollosa x poc!reader #berlin #Andrés de Fonollosa #black reader #black oc #interracial #pedro alonso #money heist #la casa de papel #black in fanfiction #Dreams of Grandeur and Paradise #Sueños De Grandeza y Paraíso

[embodyingchaos]

currently celebrating about how my berlin ff on wattpad has hit 1k reads TEEHEE

#korean berlin #berlin #money heist #money heist korea #money heist korea jea #song jungho #park hae soo #korean #kdrama #korean actor #berlin x oc #oc insert #berlin fanfic #berlin ff #korean berlin x oc #fanfiction #wattpad #wattpad fanfiction

[klein-sodor-bahn]

Charlie, the fashion chameleon

My Girl Charlie in an epic silver dress inspired by Marlene Dietrich. She would be stealing the show but she only has eyes for her little Englishman.

#ttte human au #ttte humanized #ttte #ttte oc #thomas and friends #henry x charlie💚🖤 #Akagi’s OCs #silver dress #glamorousfashion #old hollywod glamour #girlboss #slay queen #Just look at that Berlin lady stealing the show #Charlie the onyx engine #ttte gijinka

[ourolite]

୨⎯ neso & leman. so we meet again, reader *ominously*. thanks for clicking! the adulated and adored litterateurs of ourolite have fashioned two quick get-to-know-me debuts below. skim and question at your own discretion! ⎯୧

・ nubilous nigga neso. burglarizing asphodel meadows to nab persephone for a sec’; it’s the serapis in me. y’know, stealin’ da sunlight? think i’m a rather sexy protégée. bright like a dog star? pretty like sirius? *winks with both eyes*. oc's: illūnis, xīn’yuè, + indigo. (ongoing) kins: zolene, indigo, and byeol. f/o: circe, maka, frankincense, and honestly? sencha. character type: black (african american) age: like fine wine ( 18 ) gender: dao pronouns: im/HIM sunny: cancer neso's board.

・leman head. poet of sacrifice and syrup, mother of venomous adhesion and flower beds. and hey, macabre minds muddle alike-- ¿saben? oc's: frakincense, yashmi-noir, + circe. (ongoing) kins: circe, papa xīn, and little yashmi love. f/o: sencha, zolene, jihane and lowkeeeey tida. character type: mixed (afro-hispanic) age: SUPER ( 17 ) gender: dryad pronouns: they/her sunny: scorpio leman's board.

#⋆˙. 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒖𝒔. #about myself #about her #about US #EUUUGHHH #*berlin’s voice* #oc #oc x oc #oc x reader #my ocs #oc masterlist #oc maker #i loooooove my little actions #consequences however…. #genshin impact #jujutsu kaisen #studio ghibli #spiderman #across the spiderverse

[writingunderthewillow]

*asks about your ocs*

No but im actually curious

Honestly I have so many to the point that genuinely we could be here all day, but the one that’s taking over my head rn is my newest OC, Mollie!

She’s still very much in the making, so take this with a grain of salt lol

Mollie was Alastor younger sister while alive, they were very close as well, and she only lived a few years longer than Alastor before passing due to a sickness

She was in Heaven for several years after her death, before falling to Hell, on purpose, after hearing from someone who Mollie knew from her life on Earth about Alastor’s actions and how he most likely in Hell, she wanted to be reunited with her brother and find out the truth

Alastor and Mollie would always collaborate on things in their life, as she always dreamed of being a comedian, even if in the time period that wasn’t really common, and she would always tell jokes on Alastor radio show

And once she reunites with Alastor, she becomes the entertainer for the hotel.

Okay, I’ll end my ramble here, I know sibling OCs are so cringe a lot of the time but look Mollie and Alastor are my babies 🫠 (and I know, Angel Dust has a sister named Molly, before anyone says anything 😭)

#✿ — berlin rae’s talks #✿ — berlin rae’s asks #hazbin hotel #character x oc #original character #alastor x oc #hazbin hotel oc

[dancingsunflowers-ocs]

𝗩𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗲 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘛𝘸𝘰: 𝘚𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘍𝘰𝘯𝘵

We all have our favorite and least favorite ships. They may have even inspired some of your oc relationships! Today is about co-co-comparison, what are some canon couples you feel give the same vibes or energy as your oc ship?

↳ 𝘗𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘊𝘩𝘦𝘬𝘰𝘷 𝘹 𝘚𝘺𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘉𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯 ✸ 𝘼𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙤𝙛 𝘼𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚 𝙭 𝙆𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝘽𝙟𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙢𝙖𝙣

Taglist: @eddysocs @megandaisy9 @carmens-garden@arrthurpendragon@misshiraeth98 @starlit-epiphany @daughter-of-melpomene @oc-challenges

#ovc2023 #star trek #star trek oc #ocappreciation #ocapp #allaboutocs #ochub #fyeahstartrekocs #oc: sydney berlin #pavel chekov #pavel chekov x oc #original character #occentral

[ilreleonewikia13]

COWBOY LIKE ME : C H A P T E R 4 ↴ - Dead Draw- ↪Part one ↩

Kevin was such a young and energetic man, maybe if he hadn't ended up like that, our friend's career would have taken a different turn.”

“What do you mean?” questioned Beth, unsure of what he intended. “Benny had an enviable career in these years, before I took his title, he had been undefeated for almost ten years…”

“Oh, I’m sure he did,” assured the old man with a bitter smile. “But that kid could have done much better than a national title in a country like the United States, where chess is considered less than ping-pong.

I'd play my right hand on the fact that, without a shadow of a doubt, if that knucklehead hadn't ended up throwing it all away for a stupid - albeit terrible - defeat, like the one he had against Borgov that year in Portoroz, he would now be at the top of the world rankings and not barely in the top ten, behind the Soviets.

I saw that boy grow up and I always knew what he was capable of. If he hadn't given up like that, maybe he would have beaten that Russian a long time ago, instead of avoiding him, as he did in these years.

#ilreleonewikia #meme #the queen's gambit #tqg #cowboy like me #gif set #ao3 fanfic #read on ao3 #fanifc #beth harmon #benny watts #beth x benny #west berlin #1960s #berlin wall #update #oc #germany #chess #anya taylor joy #thomas brodie sangster #boran kuzum #ussr #shapnik #lev #georgi girev #mine

[asirensrage]

Eddie and Emma in Unexpected Company

A short Eddie Munson x OC series. Coming soon.

taglist: @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @zeleniafic @jvstjewels @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @booty-boggins @residentdormouse @delicateblackrose @stanshollaand @cantfighthemoonknight @thewavesroar

#listen i just love laura berlin's face #and she fit the oc once part 1 as written #lol #stranger things oc #eddie munson x oc #oc: emma #also the two of them are so cute and it's killing me #though not as cute as kate/matt/billy are

[ereardon]

Snowed In || Friday [Jake Seresin x OC]

A Jake Seresin AU miniseries

Summary: When a massive storm shutters every airport in New York, you receive an unexpected call. Jake Seresin, the ex-boyfriend of your college roommate, is stranded at JFK with nowhere to go. Somehow you find yourself hosting Jake for a long weekend in your studio apartment. What happens when you realize that maybe your long-standing hatred for him was covering up something else? 

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Ella Finnley]

Trope: Forced proximity; enemies to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, references to cheating, eventual smut

Wordcount: 3.2K 

Masterlist here

“And this just in. More than a foot of snow is expected in areas across the Tri-State, with Scarsdale already at seven inches and counting. LaGuardia has shut down their runway, with Newark and John F Kennedy airport soon to follow.” 

You groaned, flicking off the TV and opening the cabinets. They were predicting the worst storm in two decades and somehow all you had in the cupboard was a lifetime supply of ramen noodles and red wine. 

Outside, the snow was falling in soft clumps. You looked out the window which overlooked Fifth Avenue. Very few cars or taxis were on the road, and the people who were outside looked miserable. 

And then the phone rang. You dove for it, expected it to be your mom with yet another tidbit of news that she thought was groundbreaking, as if you didn’t already know that Diet Coke was bad for you, but the male voice on the other end startled you. 

“Ella?” 

You squinted, pulling the phone back and registering the caller ID. Jake Seresin. You groaned. “What could you possibly want, Jake?” 

“Nice to hear from you, too,” he replied and you rolled your eyes. It had been a decade since you last heard from Jake Seresin. He was just as obnoxious as you remembered. 

“Listen, Seresin, if you called just to give me shit, I didn’t need a reminder that you’re a dick. Memory serves well enough. Goodbye.” 

“El, wait!” 

You frowned. “What?” 

His voice softened. “I’m sorry to do this,” he said and you felt your stomach tightening. “But you’re the only person I know in the city.” Jake paused. “I’m stuck at JFK.” 

“Don’t eat the egg sandwich,” you said, recalling a moldy sandwich you had gotten once at the airport on the way to Berlin. “Have a good flight, Jake.” 

“Ella, I’m stranded,” he said and you groaned. “Can I stay with you? Just until the airports open back up.” 

You looked outside. In the two minutes since Jake had called, snow had started to fall faster, coating the streets and sidewalks and innocent pedestrians. 

“I’m sorry,” he said and for perhaps the first time that you had known him in almost fifteen years, Jake Seresin sounded genuine. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t my only option.” 

Jake Seresin. The last time you had seen him, he was standing in the doorway of your college apartment with a bouquet of flowers that Suzannah had grabbed and trampled on in fury. 

“Ella? Are you still there?” 

“Fine,” you said, surprising even yourself. “Fifth and 12th Street. Apartment 4B.” 

“I owe you, El.” 

“Two days, Seresin,” you replied. “Anything more and you get a hotel.” 

“I’ll see you soon.”

***

You had hated Jake Seresin for as long as you could remember. Or at least, since the first time you saw his smug face in a poli sci lecture. He was sitting in the back, drinking a cup of coffee and doodling on a notebook. At the end of class, he had come right up to you and asked if he could copy your notes. When you said no, asking why he hadn’t taken his own notes, he had called you sweetheart and shot his best grin. 

You turned on your heel and walked away. 

Two years later, your roommate Suzannah has been stupid enough to fall for his charm, and you were treated to the unfortunate experience of having to listen to the two of them having sex behind the thin walls of your apartment. More than once you had stumbled into a shirtless Jake in the bathroom, smelling like sex and acidic cologne. Once he had walked in on you naked and instead of hurrying out like a normal person, he had leered. 

You had doubled down on your hatred for him from that moment on. 

When the doorbell buzzed you sighed, peering at the small ring camera before pressing the buzzer. “Come up.” 

The minute between buzzing him in and Jake knocking on the door felt like a century. It always did. There was something so awkward about shuffling around, waiting for the door but not wanting to be too eager to open it when the knock finally came. 

Taking a deep breath, you swung the door open. 

Jake Seresin in the flesh. The same goofy, brilliant grin from a decade before. Sandy blond hair dotted with melting snowflakes, cheeks ruddy and pink from the cold. He wore a light jacket, far too light for the extreme weather, and held a duffle bag in one hand, cowboy boots soggy and wet, dripping on your doormat. 

“Jake.” 

He smiled, leaning in for a hug and you pulled back at the last second so he stumbled over the threshold. Jake righted himself. “Ella. Still hate me, I see.” 

You turned, shaking your head. The sound of the door closing was followed by the plop of Jake’s bag on the ground. “Shoes off,” you called out, and there was a clattering as he kicked off his boots. 

Jake appeared a moment later, his jacket removed, revealing a tight henley shirt and a pair of jeans. He took a look around the studio. It was surprisingly large, for New York standards. Not Sex and the City unrealistic, but nice, with an alcove to the right that held your queen sized bed, a large couch against one wall and a dining area in the center. 

The galley kitchen off the main hallway was large and the bathroom was relatively spacious for a studio. It had just been you for so long that you didn’t think twice about the size. But something about Jake in your space made you realize maybe it wasn’t as spacious as it looked to your smaller frame. He hulked in the hallway. 

“Nice place,” he said. “Been here long?” 

“Four years.” 

He tipped his head. “Always knew you were going to end up in New York, didn’t you?” 

You sighed, plopping down on one end of the couch, crossing one leg over the other. “What are you doing here, Seresin?” 

“I told you, I was stranded at the airport,” Jake replied, stepping forward and taking a seat on the chair opposite of the couch. You grimaced. His outdoor pants were touching your indoor furniture. That was the downside of having guests. If Jake could even be considered a guest. Don’t guests have to be invited? Or wanted. 

“On your way to where? Somewhere without extradition laws?” 

Jake rolled his eyes. “Ten years, Finn. Ten years and you haven’t changed.” 

“Have you?”

The words clung to the air. The elephant in the room. It didn’t matter that it had been nearly a decade since the last time you had seen Jake Seresin. 

His betrayal still stung, even if it had never been directed at you. 

“Ella,” he whispered. Outside, the sky was darkening. Without the constant bumper-to-bumper traffic that was a given on Fifth Ave, the street was uncomfortably dark. There was a dampness that chilled your bones, even from the comfort of being inside. “Please. Can we just put aside the past for the next few days?” He looked older. Small lines at the corners of his eyes. Jake Seresin had a loud, boisterous laugh, you remembered that about him. The way he could liven up a party. The way he could make you feel like you were the only person in the room. 

This time you were. 

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Finn?” he said, bringing back your nickname from college. “Truce?” 

You leaned back against the soft white couch cushion. “Fine.” 

Jake grinned. It was magnetic and you hated him for it. “Well, let’s celebrate then. Got anything to drink?” 

“Been here one minute and you need a drink already?” you asked, standing up. Jake’s eyes roamed over your leggings and sweater as you made your way into the kitchen, emerging a moment later with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Someone never got over their frat days I see.” 

Jake reached out, taking the bottle from your hands and turning it on its side. “You must be doing OK,” he said. “This is a one hundred dollar bottle of wine.” You handed him the wine opener and he undid the top easily, sliding out the cork and laying it on a stack of magazines on the marble coffee table. 

“Anything is better than that Franzia shit you used to love.” 

Jake ignored your comment, instead turning the bottle and reading the label. “I did a wine tour in Lebanon a few years ago. This was one of my favorite vineyards.”

You frowned, holding out a glass and he tipped the neck of the bottle against the thin rim, dribbling it into your glass. “So did I. That’s where I got that bottle.” You pointed to the 2015 Chateau Musar in his hand. 

“What were you doing in Lebanon?” 

“Writing a story,” you replied. “What about you?” 

“Went with a friend,” Jake said. “We met in Portugul and decided fuck it, let’s go to Lebanon.” 

“Still wildly dependable I see.” 

“I have a job, Ella. I’m an adult.” 

You laughed, tugging your knees to your chest. “Oh yeah?” 

Jake nodded, setting the bottle of wine down. You let your eyes roam over his fancy jeans, cashmere socks, shiny watch that you hadn’t noticed before. Maybe he wasn’t lying. Maybe he was doing OK for himself. 

“Fine,” you said, taking a sip of your wine. “You have a job. Slow clap. Who doesn’t?” 

Jake shook his head. “Still bitter,” he replied, tilting his glass to his lips. “Whatever happened to you and Connor Gray?” 

“Oh God,” you muttered. “Fuck no. Do you know what he’s doing now? He’s a fucking DJ in Bushwick.” You mimed gagging. “I’d rather eat my left foot than date some Chelsea-boot-wearing guy who drinks craft beer and tries to serenade me on a hot rooftop in Brooklyn on his shitty guitar.” 

Jake tipped his head back with a laugh. It filled the room. You had almost forgotten how boisterous his laugh could be. 

“What about you?” you asked. “Any poor unsuspecting women?” There was no ring on his finger, no tan line or dent to show that perhaps he was divorced instead. 

“Nope.” Jake put his glass down. “Single.”

“Really? Jake Seresin, single.” 

“It’s hard out there, Finn,” he said, his voice hitting a register you couldn’t quite place. Something between sadness and begging for understanding. 

“You were never without a date to a formal in college. Couldn’t even go out without girls throwing themselves at you.” You shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t think the player in you would just shrivel up and die the minute we hit thirty.” 

“I’m still twenty nine,” Jake corrected. “And I don’t know what to tell you, El. It was fun for a while. But then I started to feel kind of gross. Like Leo DiCaprio. A new girl all the time. I couldn’t go to a single wedding without people asking about the girl who I had brought to the last one. But she was long gone.” He paused. “Couldn’t tell you the last time I saw the same girl for more than a month or three dates.”  

You frowned. Jake Seresin, a reformed manwhore? Not possible. 

He shrugged. “There, is that my dues for the night? Told you my dating life so now you owe me shelter from the storm?” 

“For now,” you said, standing up. “Interrogation can resume later. I’m hungry.” 

“Then let’s eat.” Jake looked outside. “It’s pretty shit out.” 

“Agreed.”

“What do you have for food?” 

You winced. “Honestly? I mostly eat out, so not much.” 

Jake stood up, brushing past you so closely you could feel his broad chest press against you for a second on his way toward the kitchen. “I’ll figure something out. You relax.” 

“Relax? With you in my apartment? Fat chance, Seresin.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Going to be a long weekend, isn’t it, Finn?” 

***

Jake somehow managed to make a perfectly edible dinner out of the almost-expired food in your fridge and what was left in the pantry. The two of you sat at the small two-person table you had pressed against one set of windows overlooking Fifth Ave. 

Anyone looking in might think it was a date. Even though Jake had dated Suzannah for almost a year, you two had barely spent any alone time together. That’s how you always tried to keep it with your friends’ significant others. A simple conversation here and there, usually while your friend was showering or getting ready or coming back from the store. 

Never like this. 

After dinner, Jake insisted on cleaning. As if it would make up for the countless times he had left shit in your apartment sink in college. You stood at the window, watching the snow pummel from the sky, coating the street in a thick blanket that it couldn’t shake. There was no one outside walking around. It felt apocalyptic and you cringed knowing that you still had at least a day alone with Jake and nothing to do but be in each other’s presence. 

“It’s dark in here,” Jake said, startling you. You turned as he reached for the overhead light. 

“Stop,” you said and he froze. “Lamps, dumbass. Why do men always want to use ceiling lights? Do you like being bathed in fluorescent light?” You strode over to the dresser along one wall, flicking on a candle warmer lamp and another small lamp on the far side of the room. Warm light spilled out into the room. 

“Does it matter?” Jake asked. 

“Yes.” 

Jake shook his head. “Alright, Finn. I’m all yours. What do you want to do?” 

“You mean other than throw you out in the snow on your ass?” 

Jake stepped closer. “Am I really that bad?” he whispered. 

You looked up. Clear green eyes, perfect almond tanned skin. Hair swept back in a carefree manner. You could tell why Suzannah has lost her fucking mind over him all those years ago. He really was too pretty to be true. “Maybe.” 

Jake looked around. “Well I would say I can get out of your hair for a few hours, but there’s not really many options.” He was right. Minus the alcove where your bed sat, the apartment was a pretty open floor plan. 

“Let’s just watch TV and watch the minutes tick by on the longest day known to mankind.” 

Reluctantly, you settled down onto the couch and flipped on the TV. After scrolling for a solid five minutes, Jake groaned. 

“What, Seresin?” you demanded. 

“Take longer,” he complained. 

“Fine, you do it.” You shoved the remote into his chest, trying to ignore how nice his chest felt beneath his shirt. 

Jake took the clicker and flicked through the apps before settling on a movie. 

“No,” you argued. 

He turned to you with a grin. “It’s a guilty pleasure. Humor me, Finn.” 

You grimaced as Twilight started. Jake laughed his way through the serious parts of the movie, cackling out loud at the spider monkey bit and you found yourself laughing along next to him. God, Carlisle really was hot. So was Charlie. That’s how you knew you were almost thirty. 

By the end of the movie, the two of you had shifted comfortably on the couch. You were no longer three feet apart. Instead, your feet were crossed over each other, almost precariously touching Jake’s where they sat propped up on the coffee table. 

It was the first time in years that you could remember sitting through an entire movie without some guy trying to feel you up or make a movie. 

The credits started to roll and you reached for the remote just as Jake did. You pulled your hand back like it was on fire and he handed it to you. “Sorry,” Jake said softly. His voice had grown huskier in the hour and a half since the movie started. “Your TV. Your remote.” 

“It’s fine,” you said and it was gentle. He smiled. There was something devilish about Jake Seresin’s smile. It was too perfect. You cleared your throat. “I, um, should get to bed

“Me too.” 

You stood up, clicking off the TV. The room felt darker without it, just the soft lamps illuminating small circles of light. “I’m going to shower. I’ll get you some blankets and pillows. The couch should be big enough for you.” 

“Thanks, El.” There was something so genuine about the way he said it that threw you off. Who was this stranger and what had he done with the dickwad from Stanford? “For letting me stay.” 

“See how much you like me after a night of sleeping on that,” you replied, digging in the closet near the hallway for pillows and a comforter, dumping them in Jake’s arms. “Do you, um, need to use the bathroom first?” 

“I’ll go after you.” 

In the shower, you were acutely aware that no more than twenty feet away, Jake Seresin was fiddling around in your apartment. You had spent hundreds and hundreds of hours with him at Stanford, but this was different and you both knew it. When you entered the living room, steam pummeling out of the bathroom door, Jake looked up from where he stood shirtless in the living room. “Oh, God!” you exclaimed, holding one hand up to your face. “What the fuck?” 

“Fuck, fuck, sorry!” Jake grabbed for his t-shirt on the couch, tugging it on. “OK, you’re safe. All clear.” 

“This isn’t Barcelona, Seresin,” you complained, stepping toward the dresser and sliding open a drawer, pulling out a pair of silk pajamas. “Or a rave in someone’s basement.” 

He sat down on the edge of the couch cushion. “Been that long since you’ve seen a shirtless guy, huh, El?” 

You hated that he was right. “Fuck off.” 

Jake chuckled. “Sorry, couldn’t help it.” 

“Maybe that’s why no girl wants to date you for more than a week,” you snapped. “Because you’re a dick.” 

Silence hung in the air, thick like the snow clumping on the streets outside the window. You held your breath, letting your lungs sit there and burn. Jake’s eyes haunted yours. 

You felt bad. Never had you ever expected to feel bad for Jake Seresin. Golden boy. Womanizer. Player extraordinaire. But this was obviously a sore spot and you knew it. 

He looked sad, sitting in your apartment living room in the near-dark, face drawn and quiet. An unease squeezed at your stomach. 

“Jake, I–”

Jake stood, cutting you off. “It’s fine. I’m going to use the bathroom if that’s OK.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

You watched his frame disappear down the hallway, rounding the corner into the subway tiled bathroom. As you sat down in your silk robe at the edge of your bed, the silence in the apartment, usually so comforting as an alternative to the bustle of the city outside, felt stifling. When Jake returned in the dark, flicking off the final light and settling onto the couch, you held your breath, waiting for him to say something. 

But nothing ever came. The two of you laid there, ten feet apart, separated by a wall of silence. 

You had spent ten years who knows how many miles away from Jake Seresin and never given him another thought. Why was it that ten feet now felt like a lap around the equator? 

The chill in the room wasn’t in your head and it wasn’t from the blizzard outside. You and Jake had created frost all on your own. 

Tag list [using my list from The Off-Season since it's my most up-to-date Jake list but if you're not interested in these types of fics just let me know!):

@double-j @topguncultleader @momc95 @hangmandruigandmav

@teacupsandtopgun @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @blue-aconite @seresinhangmanjake @eminyourjeans @shawnsblue @babyminghao @sadpetalsstuff @angelbabyange @taytaylala12 @wkndwlff @mygyn @oneelleandaneye @averyhotchner @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @rxmtoon @valkyrja-siren-blog @horseshoegirl @abaker74 @clancycucumber230 @theharddeck @redbarn1995 @shanimallina87

@memeorydotcom @joaquinwhorres @bobfloydsbabe @gretagerwigsmuse @djs8891

@blackcatdhisgf @fangirlvoice @buckysteveloki-me  @eli2447 @bellaireland1981 

#jake hangman fic #top gun fanfiction #jake seresin #top gun imagine #jake hangman x you #jake seresin au #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake seresin angst #hangman series #hangman imagine #hangman x you #hangman x reader #hangman #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick

[earthtoharlow]

Flashing Lights

17) Only Human

Jack Harlow x Singer!OC

series masterlist

“I’m sorry, ma'am but the next flight out won’t be for a couple more hours.” Maryse simply nodded and walked away from the desk. She was two seconds away from having a breakdown. Maryse texted Jack an update, despite him not being able to see it until he woke up and plopped down in the uncomfortable seats of the airport, laying her head back and closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the last three weeks on her shoulders.

She and Jack had hardly spoken for longer than a couple minutes at a time because of the different time zones. Her day was ending while he was just getting his day started. Things between them had been strained since Jack brought up wanting to move in together, the distance making it worse.

There was nothing Maryse was more sure of than the fact that she’s deeply in love with Jack, although it wasn’t easy, she was looking forward to spending time with him this weekend. The delay did give Maryse the time to think about the conversation she knew she was going to have with Jack.

Moving in with Jack always felt like a distant dream. Deep down, she knew that she wanted nothing more than to build a life with him, to wake up next to him everyday. Maryse just wasn’t sure if she was ready to let go of the independence she fought so hard to maintain. She knew that some of her hesitation stemmed from her trauma from her relationship with Nate. She feared repeating the same mistakes, and feared opening herself up to the possibility of more hurt. Now she just needed to find a way to express all of this to Jack.

Hours passed felt like eternity before her flight was cleared for takeoff. The only thing she could think about as she boarded the plane was Jack and how they’re finally going to be together again.

As the plane touched down in New York, she rushed through the crowded airport, her pulse quickening with each step. And there, waiting for her at the arrival gate, was Urban, he let out a sigh of relief at the sight of her.

“Hey, you made it!” He exclaimed, pulling her into a hug.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world! How late am I?” She asked as they walked out the airport and to the parking garage.

“The City Girls just started their set, so we should make it before Jack’s set.”

Maryse nodded, slightly overwhelmed that she almost missed his performance and leaned her head on the glass window, and watched the car’s speed by.

“You know, Jack missed you a lot.” Urban mentioned, glancing over at her before focusing back on the road.

“I know.”

****

Jack paced around backstage nervously, he glanced at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. Urban had texted him saying he had picked Maryse up from the airport. He could feel his heart sinking with each passing moment. With the unexpected flight delay from Berlin, he had been anxiously awaiting her arrival, the fear that she wouldn’t make it in time gnawing at the pit of his stomach.

“Jack, I’m giving you five more minutes but you can’t keep the fans waiting. You’ll see her after the show.” Neelam tried to stress to him.

Jack just shook his head at his manager, Maryse was going to make it. He knew she would. The minutes started to feel like hours and just when he was about to give up, he caught sight of Maryse rushing towards him, and a smile of relief spread across his face, all his fears melting away.

Maryse reached him slightly out of breath, Jack immediately pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly against his chest as if he was afraid to let her go. “I thought you weren’t gonna make it.” he whispered, voice filled with emotion. He missed her so much.

She smiled up at him, tearing up at the sight of him. “I was going to get here even if I was going to have to fly the plane myself!”

Jack let her go slightly so he could get a good look at her. “You look beautiful.” He said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Maryse’s face was free of makeup, she recently cut her hair, wanting to embrace her natural curls and she looked amazing.

“I just had a 9 hour flight, I’m not sure beautiful is how I’d describe myself!” Maryse said, a self-conscious smile tugging at her lips.

“You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever known,” he insisted. “So cheesy, but thank you,” she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude and she stood on her tippy toes to give him a kiss. She missed him so much.

As they broke the kiss, Neelam interrupted them. “Sorry to interrupt, but Jack we need to get you on stage,” she said, her tone urgent.

“Go, I’ll be right here watching.” Maryse reassured him and pushed him slightly towards Neelam.

As Maryse watched Jack on stage, a sense of awe washed over her. His energy up there was infectious, she found herself falling more in love with him. Despite having seen him perform countless times before, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride every time he took the stage.

She realized just how much she loved seeing this side of him – the side that was bold, the side that chased his dreams no matter what. It was a side of him that she cherished.

In the back of Maryse's mind the nagging thought of the topic of them moving in together needed to be had tonight. She had been avoiding it for far too long, no more excuses. As much as she loved Jack, she just couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t ready for that next step.

Maryse knew that she needed more time to grow and to heal, to come to terms with her fears and insecurities. But deep down, she also knew that her reluctance didn’t mean she would never be ready.

Her thoughts were cut short when she heard Jack signal for the music to fade and motioned for the crowd to quiet down. The audience leaned in, eager to hear what Jack had to say, “So, tonight, I have a very special guest backstage watching me perform.”

Jack paused for dramatic effect, scanning the crowd with a twinkle in his eye before pointing towards the wings of the stage where Maryse stood watching, a surprised expression on her face and began shaking her head when he tried to motion for her to join him on stage. “She’s begging me not to bring her up on stage!”

“But I had to make this the best show ever because of her,” he continued, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “I mean, I couldn’t have her back there thinking I’m anything less than a superstar, right?”

The audience burst into laughter and she watched from backstage, face flushed with embarrassment but she couldn’t help but laugh along.

After Jack finished performing the last couple songs, Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield played on the speakers as he walked off stage, a wide smile spread across his face, sweat glistening on his skin. Before he could catch his breath, Maryse rushed towards him in excitement.

Ignoring the sweat that clung to his skin, she threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and burying her face against his chest. Jack laughed in delight as she showered his face with kisses, her laughter mingling with his own. They were lost in their own little bubble of happiness oblivious to the world around them.

The only thing that could dampen the mood was his own thoughts. Despite the joy of their reunion and the overwhelming love he felt for her in that moment, Jack knew that the conversation they were going to have back at the hotel would be a tough one. He couldn’t shake the fear that perhaps Maryse wasn’t ready, that their dreams didn’t align as perfectly as he had hoped.

But as he watched her smile up at him, her eyes sparkling with love and adoration, he couldn’t bear to dampen the mood. He wanted nothing more than to savor this moment with her, to bask in the warmth of her love.

Jack knew that the conversation could not be avoided forever, and as they made their way back to the hotel, he couldn’t shake the sense of apprehension that settled in the pit of his stomach. No matter how much he wished otherwise, he knew that they would have to talk sooner rather than later.

****

As they entered the hotel room, nervous energy hung in the air. Maryse began doing mundane tasks, straightening the pillows on the bed while Jack adjusted the curtains by the windows to delay the inevitable.

But as the minutes ticked by, the silence between them grew unbearable, until it felt like a weight pressing down on their shoulders. And then, almost as if on cue, they both opened their mouths to speak at the same time.

“I think we need to talk…” they began in unison, their voices overlapping in a tangled mess of words.They paused, their eyes meeting in a moment of shared understanding. With a nervous laughter they both sat on the edge of the bed.

Jack ran his hands up and down his thighs nervously, Taking a deep breath, he broke the silence that had settled between them. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said… about not being ready to move in together,” he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Maryse started playing with the rings on her fingers nervously, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Your reaction kind of confused me, to be honest.” Jack continued, his words careful and measured. “I mean, I thought we were in this together, you know? I thought we both wanted the same things.”

Maryse felt a lump form in her throat as she struggled to find the right words to respond. She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes fixed on the ground. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” she admitted finally, her voice barely above a whisper. The weight of her words hung heavy in the air.

“I just don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. “It feels like every time we try to take a step forward, you pull back. I know that Nate hurt you, but that wasn’t me.”

She looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and regret. “I’m sorry, just… I felt so small after my breakup with Nate.” Maryse began, “I don’t want to go through that again. I don’t want to feel like I’m losing myself in someone else.”

His eyes narrowed slightly in disbelief, “That’s just an excuse, isn’t it? You’re just afraid of getting hurt again.”

Maryse began shaking her head. “It’s not an excuse,” she insisted, her voice trembling with emotion. “I’m just… I’m not ready, okay? I need more time.”

Jack ran a hand through his hair, his patience wearing thin. “I love you, but this relationship is starting to feel like a 9-5 job.” he admitted, his voice laced with frustration.

Her heart sank at his words, the sting of his frustration piercing through her like a knife. She had never meant to make him feel this way, to suffocate their love with her own insecurities and fears.

Jack could feel himself getting overwhelmed with frustration. “What more do I have to do to prove to you that I care about you? Sometimes, it feels like you’re just stringing me along!” He blurted out, his words came out harsh and unforgiving.

Maryse's eyes widened in shock, brimming with tears. Hurt flashing across her face. “That’s not fair, how could you say that?!” she protested, her voice cracked as she spoke. “I love you, you know that.”

Before Maryse could say anything else, Jack uttered words that he would later regret. “Maybe that’s not enough.” his voice heavy with regret, “Maybe we should both just move on.”

Her heart immediately shattered at his words. “Is that what you really want?” Maryse asked, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes pleading for him to take it back.

He hesitated, the weight of his words sinking in. But in that moment of weakness, he couldn’t find the strength to retract them. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted, his voice hollow with regret.

Maryse stood up, not being able to sit so close to him. Tears streamed down her face, as she grabbed her things from the hotel. The room felt like it was closing in. “I really, truly love you,” she said, holding in her sob. “And if this is what you want, if you want to break up, then fine. But don’t you dare try to run back to me, I might not still be waiting for you.”

As she made her way through the quiet corridors of the hotel, her heart felt heavy with sadness. She didn’t want to go through the process of moving on from him, she didn’t want Jack to become another thing she had to heal from. Maryse knew what she said before she left wasn’t entirely true. Despite the hurt, she would always wait for him. As she stood by the elevators she was hoping he would run out and apologize and say he didn’t mean it but unfortunately that moment never came.

Maryse couldn’t stop the tears from falling, not fully believing that it was over. She loved Jack more than any sane person could love another. This, she realized, was what she had been afraid of all along – losing herself in the aftermath of their breakup. The thought of facing the world without him by her side was terrifying, a gaping void in her life that she didn’t know how to fill. She had become so accustomed to relying on him for support and validation that now she didn’t know what to do without him.

Thankfully, since they were in New York she could spend the night in the comfort of her own bed but as she slowly walked in everything suddenly reminded her of Jack. It was like everything was mocking her and the breakup.

With trembling hands, she reached for her phone and texted CoCo, her words concise and to the point. “Hey, I need the next flight out. Something urgent came up,” she typed, her fingers hovering over the send button for a moment before finally pressing send.

Maryse knew eventually she would have to tell her what happened, but right now all she wanted to do was cry and then throw herself back into her work, to lose herself in the music and the rhythm of the tour. That was the only thing she could do.

***

As the door clicked shut behind her, Jack stood frozen in the now empty hotel room. He wanted nothing more than to chase after her, to beg for her forgiveness. He could feel his chest start to cave in, every breath felt like a struggle.

The thought of having to face the world without her left him feeling empty. Maryse has been his every thought since they met. He didn’t know what he was going to do without her. She had been his rock, his confidante, his everything. Now a piece of him felt like it was missing.

Jack could no longer hold back his emotions, with a choked sob he buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with the weight of his grief. He picked up his phone quickly when he heard it ringing, hoping it was Maryse saying that she was going to come back, but when he saw that it was Jason telling him that a news crew was coming to his concert tomorrow night the phone suddenly felt heavy and suffocating in his grasp. With a cry of anguish, he hurled it across the room, the sound of its impact against the wall echoing in the empty space.

The room felt smaller, suffocating, as if closing in on him from all sides. He longed to escape, to run away from the pain that threatened to consume him. But there was no escape from the reality of the breakup, no way to undo the hurtful words that were said.

Jack’s mind was flooded with memories of their early days together. He couldn’t help but think back to that night at the bar when she had been a little tipsy and a lot more vulnerable. He remembered the way she had looked up at him with those big, doe eyes, her voice slurred as she whispered “I’m really starting to like you, don’t hurt me, ok?”

In that moment he had immediately felt the urge to protect her. And without hesitation, he had promised her that he would never hurt her and to do everything in his power to keep her safe and happy.

But now, as he sat alone in the silence of the hotel room, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of his broken promise bearing down on him. He had let his anger and frustration get the best of him, and had said things that he knew would hurt her deeply.

Jack knew he would have to do whatever it took to make things right. He couldn’t change the past, couldn’t undo the hurtful words he had spoken, but he could make a promise to do better, to be better, in the future.

***

an: so what do y’all wanna chat about? 🏃🏽‍♀️

Tag List:

(message me if you'd like to be added or removed)

@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @snows-blog-of-fiction @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @toocriticalharlow @minkookie95 @harlowcomehome @jackharloww @jaydaaasworld @kkrenae @hufflewhore128 @w1ldthoughts @jackiehollanderr @katiaw2 @halfmoondaze @babybardi2 @vinniehackersbaee @daphnescorner

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow reader #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow angst #jack harlow x oc #black reader #flashing lights

[lovelytsunoda]

take my breath away // tom 'iceman' kazansky

a traffic jam on the interstate and a diamond ring in a glovebox compartment

temporarily stationed in nevada, tom and heather decide to take a weekend in las vegas to see their favourite new wave band. all the while, all tom can think about when to ask heather to be his wife.

part of the heather and tommy universe started in 'tell me something girl'

pairing: tom kazansky x female oc (named heather)

warnings: fluff overload, marriage proposals, traffic jams.

author's note: guys i know that 'kick' didn't come out until 1987, but bear with me on this one, i was trying to make all of the dates work without the wedding feeling rushed (you'll know what i mean if you check the date headings on 'tell me something girl')

October 25th, 1986. Just outside Las Vegas, Nevada.

the weak air conditioning system in her boyfriend's hummer did nothing to block out the nevada heat as they sat idle, listening to the sounds of engines humming and horns honking. heather schneider held a small camcorder in her hands, the viewfinder trained on her boyfriend's face as he raked his hands through is hair, aviator glasses hiding his eyes. duran duran played on the radio, a tree shaped air freshener dangling in front of the windshield.

"babe, i’m so sorry. i had no idea traffic would be this bad." tom sighed, pushing up his glasses so he could run his hands over his face.

the move to nevada had been sudden. back home in virginia after graduating top gun, tom wasn't expecting to get marching orders so fast after coming back from a mission. the two harrowing weeks in the ocean after the academy had rattled him a little, and he was looking forward to finally spending time with heather again. now, he was scared about what nevada would to do his relationship with heather, until heather dropped a bombshell of her own.

she was quitting her job.

working in a law firm that did work closely with the us military did things to a person. and one day, heather just snapped. she came home in tears and told him that she couldn't do it any more.

and then she quit.

and now she was in nevada with no idea what she was going to do with her life. tom was stationed at the nellis air force base, which was very near to the las vegas motor speedway, a place they spent many a weekend watching stock car racing. tom was easing into his role at nellis quickly, seamlessly and with his trusty backseater ron kerner at his side.

heather was still lost. deployment was only for five months, part of a training program for a plane that most people in the military weren't even aware of yet. and after that five months? would they go back to virginia? stay in nevada? where would she work?

"kaz, stop worrying. the concert isn't until tomorrow night anyways." she soothed, running her thumb over his knuckles. the hummer eased forward, but traffic was still at a crawl.

"nellis is eight fucking miles outside of vegas, why can't we get into the city on a friday?"

"because everybody else is also trying to get into the city on a friday."

in the three months they had already lived in nevada, despite only living eight miles outside sin city, heather had still never been to vegas. never walked down the strip, never seen a show.

until tom surprised her with tickets to watch australian new wave band INXS play at ceasers palace. the band meant so much to heather, and she had been waiting for this weekend for the last six weeks.

tom, on the other hand, knowing the significance of the weekend had something bigger planned. the ring was burning a hole in his glove box, right next to his service weapon.

all that time away had taught him one big thing: he wanted heather in his life, by his side, for the rest of his life.

"hey, heath, do you remember that blue bungalow in miramar? the one that was on the water, with the backyard that walked out onto that small square of beach?"

"yeah, why?" heather hummed, panning the camera over at the traffic in front of her. the pair never went anywhere without their cameras, digital or video. there were envelopes full of negatives in their apartment, shoeboxes bursting at the seams with pictures they'd taken since they started dating in the spring of 1985.

tom tapped his slender fingers against the steering wheel, easing the hummer forward another few feet as traffic picked up, and then promptly slowed. he moved to roll down a window due to the heat, but then reversed his decision after smelling the latent gasoline exhaust in the air and hearing the noise of the jam.

"it's for sale. has been for a while, miramar isn't a hot area for us young people." he stopped to take a breath, looking over at heather. her eyes sparkled as she turned to look at him, popping a small pretzel into her mouth. her large, round prescription sunglasses made her look like an owl.

he adored every part of her.

"i want to put a deposit down. with your permission, of course. i know your life is in virginia, and we can go back if that's what you want. but i see a life for us in that house. kids, a dog. at some point, i want to teach at top gun. that's where maverick is, where slider is going to go. but none of that means anything if you aren't with me, heath."

heather closed the camcorder, dropping it into her lap as she reached for tom's hand, clasping it between both of hers. "tom, i'd love to. let's do it. let's move to california."

tom's heart swelled with love as he brought heather's knuckles up to give her a gentle kiss. everything was finally coming together. they were ready to start their life together.

and he knew he needed to ask. he had planned to wait until they were in the city, planned to get down on one knee underneath the false eiffel tower and present heather with his grandmother's ring.

but, as impulsive as it may be, he knew he needed to ask her. in the middle of stalled traffic on a nevada freeway. his hair had grown out since he'd come home from top gun, bangs curling into his eyes and sticking up in all ways after he pushes his glasses up.

"babe, pass me the camcorder and take a look in the glove box." tom said, putting the hummer in park. he would have turned the engine off to save gas, but who knew if traffic would pick up again and he'd have to drive off the freeway?

after heather passed him the small metal camera, he popped it open, discreetly recording as she opened the glove box. her sunglasses held her long, brunette hair back like a headband as she rooted around the compartment.

"behind the service weapon, sweetheart. it's a small pink box."

"found it." she hummed, her manicured fingers clutching the small cardboard box. (tom had been insistent that she go get her nails done with slider's girlfriend maria before they left nellis, but she had no idea why).

she pulled the lid off the box, a gasp getting caught in her throat when she saw the stunning sterling silver ring, and the large blue stone in the middle, framed by diamonds.

"this is your grandmother's ring."

tom's parents were polish immigrants. when his parents left poland with nothing, they brought his father's mother with them (his mother's parents would follow later). angela kazanzky was classically trained ballerina with the warsaw ballet corps, but had left poland with almost nothing after her husband was killed. all she brought with her was a suitcase of clothes, and that sapphire engagement ring.

"heather, the time i spent at top gun taught me a lot of things. how to be a better man, a better soldier and a better pilot. but it also taught me that i hate being away from you. i hate waking up at the crack of dawn and you aren't there next to me." tom began, reaching for heather's hand. she turned to look at him, eyes wide and hands shaky as the gravity what this was set in. "i hate coming home at the end of the day to an empty dorm without you there. yeah, i love the guys, and i love this job. but none of that holds a candle to the way that i love you, heather anne schneider. i was going to wait until we actually got to vegas to do this, but now's as good a time as any."

he smiled nervously, a shock of giddy, pure love shooting through her veins when she looked at him, an equally wide smile breaking out across her face.

"heather, will you marry me?"

"yes! yes, tom, of course i'm gonna marry you. is this what that house talk was all about? yes, of course i'll do it!"

"thank you." tom exhaled, speaking so softly that she almost didn't hear it. he extended his open palm, waiting for her to press the ring into his palm. she was a giggling mess, trying to hold her hand steady while tom slid the cold metal band onto her ring finger. "i'm so in love with you, and i hope we stay this happy forever."

god, she loved that man.

"i love you more, lieutenant."

stretching as far as her seatbelt would allow, heather leaned over the hummer's center console, kissing her fiancé with an intensity that was out of place on the freeway. she couldn't stop staring at the rock on her finger, and thinking about the promise that it represented.

they were forehead to forehead, full of giddy smiles, the camcorder resting on tom's lap still recording as the pickup truck behind them began to honk.

traffic was flowing normally, and they hadn't even noticed.

they broke apart, laughing as they stowed away the camcorder and the now-empty ring box. tom put the car in drive, throwing his middle finger up at the driver behind them.

they were both still smiling, daydreaming about what their new life together would bring them. heather reached for the radio, turning up the volume as they began to play INXS' 'never tear us apart'.

tom smiled fondly, looking over at her as she began to sing.

"this is going to be our wedding song." she smiled to herself.

the following year, they would get married in monterrey, and they would have their first dance to that same song, heather in a simple white dress, and tom in his navy dress whites. and two years after that, they would welcome their first of three children.

and when mitchell kazansky got married? he used that same sapphire ring to propose to his now-wife amelia.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @sidcrosbyspuck @diorleclerc @lorarri @cartierre @userlando @thatsdemko

#tom kazansky x reader #top gun imagine #top gun 1986 #top gun x reader #tom kazansky #iceman x reader #tom iceman kazansky x reader #top gun fanfic #Spotify #fools in love! event

[hockeyshmockey]

Mick Schumacher Instagram Edit

Mick X German!oc

liked by f1gossip, gridgg, and 8,027 others

gossipgridgirl sent in! A fan spotted mick in Budapest today at the world track and field championship. Leaves us wondering who he was there for!

Liked by mickschumacher, teamgermany, and 627,930 others

alinamatthews another world championship in the books! As always graetful for the best team and the best fans in the world. See you next time!

view 12,390 comments

estebanocon congrats to you!

user estie wyd here bud?

user and mick too?

liked by 9,234 users

gossipgridgirl sent in- a fan spotted mick and a young lady at the Coldplay concert in Berlin tonight. The same fan is speculating the woman is alina matthews, a member of the German National team for Track and Field (which could explain the drivers time in Budapest over summer break)

view 982 comments

liked by lh44, carmenmundt and 693,547 others

alinamatthews stars in my eyes

view 12,393 comments

user ok so like….. is that blonde hair under the cap?

carmenmundt 🫢🫢

user soft launch activated

liked by 10,284 users

gossipgridgirl welp, alina matthews was in the paddock at Singapore this weekend. Is this pointing to her being the mystery woman involved with Mick?

view 1,349 comments

liked by Estebanocon, susiewolff and 893,283 others

tagged mickschumacher

alinamatthews in my lover era🫶🏻

view 76,283 comments

carmenmundt finally, brunch date soon pls

user oh my GAWD

mickschumacher i love you schatz

liked by georgerussell, Lando.jpg and 1,263,293 others

tagged yourusername

mickschumacher in love with my best friend

#f1 #formula one imagine #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 driver #f1 driver imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 driver #imagine #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher #social media #smau #instagram edit #instagram #f1 imagines #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula 1

[claireelizabeth85]

Come Home To Me - Chapter 6

John Egan x OC Female!Reader

Summary: When the idea of a past life turns out it isn't just an idea or a dream.

Warning: angst

AN: This is a work of fiction and is based on the TV characters from the Apple TV series. No disrespect is intended towards the real men of the 100th BG.

All previous chapters can be found here

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

Lizzy's hands shook slightly as she clutched her coffee cup, taking a slow drag from her cigarette. Sitting outside the pub in the early morning quiet, she felt every rustle of the wind and distant murmur stir up echoes of her past life. Around her, the village was waking up; shadows stretched across the cobblestones, morphing into haunting memories she couldn’t escape. Each sound, rather than soothing, seemed to whisper back stories she wished she could forget. Pulling her jacket tighter around her, she exhaled a cloud of smoke and tried to push away the ghosts that lingered a little too close. Stubbing out her smoke, she made her way indoors, taking a seat opposite Sarah as they settled down to eat. 

“I want to go home, Sarah. I can't stand being haunted by these memories anymore,” Lizzy muttered, her voice a fragile thread amidst the clatter of morning utensils.

Sarah leaned in, her eyes burning with a mix of concern and determination. “What? Are you sure? We’re on the brink of understanding why these memories are resurfacing now.”

Lizzy’s weary eyes met Sarah's. “What does it matter? It’s all past, isn’t it?”

“It’s never just the past with us, Lizzy. Remember your flight to Berlin in February ’45?” Sarah’s voice steadied, heavy with implication. She leaned in closer, her tone conveying the weight of her findings. “I've been digging through the archives, and I found the weather reports prepared on the day of your mission. They noted an unusual cloud bank, described in terms stupidly similar to other incidents years later."

She paused, letting the information sink in before continuing. “But it’s not just the weather reports—there’s more. I've also gone through the after-action reports from the crews who made it back. They spoke of disorientations and malfunctions that seemed to centre around that same cloud bank. It's been mentioned repeatedly, across decades, in different contexts. This isn’t just regular weather; it’s something else, something anomalous.”

Sarah pulled out a folder, stuffed with copies of the documents, and spread them out on the table. “These aren’t coincidences, Lizzy. There’s a pattern here that we can’t ignore. This cloud didn’t just appear in 1945—it’s been a recurring anomaly, linked with multiple unexplained phenomena and disappearances. And I think it’s linked to your memories.”

Lizzy’s fork hovered in mid-air, her appetite lost. “You think a cloud formation is the reason I’m reliving this….nightmare?” Sarah sighed exasperated. “It’s a theory, yes.” 

Reluctantly, Lizzy glanced at the documents strewn across the table.  They seemed to pulse with a foreboding energy, each page a reminder of her last moments in the skies over Berlin. “And you believe diving back into that” she pointed at the weather report with her fork, “will change what’s already done?”

“Yes,” Sarah countered sharply, her voice slicing through the quiet. “Because I can’t stand to see my best friend dissolve into shadows and whiskey. Maybe, just maybe, confronting this can bring you peace. I don’t know, maybe it’ll take you back to John.”

Lizzy's emotions flickered across her face—hope warring with fear. Before she could formulate a response, Sarah’s focus shifted abruptly to the entrance of the bar where Abigail had just entered followed by a man that was not her husband. 

Rising abruptly, Sarah’s chair scraped back loudly against the floor. She approached the couple with a determined stride, her tone polite yet firm. Abigail, who Sarah had seen the day before at the museum, was now accompanied by a different man. He was tall with dark hair, cut into a neat, short back and sides but with enough length on top to style it.  Sarah could hear their conversation and given his tone, the man was unimpressed. 

“You’ve dragged me halfway across the world, to the middle of nowhere, on the word of an old lady. And for what? A pub breakfast?” Abigail frowned, equally unimpressed by his complaining. “If Nana believed her, then we should too. She wouldn’t send us on a wild goose chase without a reason. There’s more at stake here than you realise.”

Sarah coughed lightly to gain their attention. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she began, holding up the photograph that had unexpectedly altered the course of her investigation. “I know you mentioned yesterday that your identity wasn’t of concern, but I need to understand who you are and where you got this photograph from.”

The tall, dark-haired man took the photograph with a furrowed brow. His initial confusion soon gave way to irritation. “Abigail, what the hell are you playing at?” His voice was tinged with frustration.  Beside him, Abigail remained calm, her expression serene yet confident. She glanced at Sarah, her smile faint but reassuring.  “Like I said, I believed her. There are bigger things at stake, one of them is that photograph.”

Sarah’s own confusion mounted. “So, you recognise the picture? Can you tell me when it was taken?” The man who had not been introduced looked over it and then looked back at Sarah. He shot a look of surprise at his sister before exhaling sharply. “Holy shit,” he muttered, the realisation hitting him. “I hate to admit it, but you were right, Abby.”

As he spoke, Abigail’s gaze was drawn to the table where Lizzy’s distant figure sat hunched over her plate, the man following her gaze. “Is that?” Abigail held his arm “Don’t say anything. She can’t know we’re here. She mustn’t know about us.”

He sighed, the fight going out of him as he stood still, the photograph in his hand. He glanced at it once more, a mixture of awe and resignation washing over him. “Alright, Abby. Let’s see where this goes. But if you’re wrong, you owe me more than just breakfast.”

Abigail nodded, her smile returning as she looked back at Sarah. “We’re here to help, however we can. What do you need to know?”

Sarah turned back to face the woman, her voice a mix of frustration and curiosity. "Why can't Lizzy know about you? What are you to her, and why this secrecy?"

The man accompanying Abigail, now clearly annoyed by the complexity of the situation, threw up his hands. "You have the answers, you explain it. I'm off to get some breakfast." He walked away, leaving the women to their tense exchange.

Abigail motioned for Sarah to sit back down, her expression solemn but with a hint of an authoritative tone. "Ignore him; he’s my older brother and he's always reminding me when I’ve overstepped. But he’s right about one thing—I did start this.” She gestured between herself and Sarah, linking them in the unfolding mystery. “And you're right, you know. You're on the right track."

She paused, her gaze intense and searching. "The key to all of this is Lizzy. She needs to fly again. That's the only way we can begin to untangle this mess."

Sarah scoffed, her scepticism evident. "And how do you propose we manage that? It’s not exactly easy to just hop into a B-17 these days."

Without missing a beat, Abigail slid a flyer across the table from her bag. "I can’t divulge too much about who I am—only that I’m…family. Someone very wise instructed me to come here at this precise moment, hand you that photograph, and ensure that we don’t repeat the mistakes of the past."

As Sarah examined the flyer—a promotional piece for an upcoming air show featuring a fully operational B-17—her mind raced. The plan was audacious, bordering on the insane, yet the urgency in Abigail's voice made it impossible to dismiss outright.

Abigail tapped the photo gently, her voice lowering to a near whisper, compelling and earnest. "And it’s not just Lizzy who needs to fly; you need to be there with her. This is about closing a loop, about healing wounds you both don't fully understand yet."

The enormity of the task weighed heavily on Sarah as she picked up the flyer. Just then, the man returned from the bar, his meal in tow, breaking the intensity of their discussion. As he sat, Sarah stood, clutching the photo and the flyer.

"One last question— who took this photograph?" she asked, needing some tangible connection to anchor the surreal task ahead.

Abigail's face softened, her eyes shimmering with a blend of pride and deep personal connection. "My maternal grandfather. He was there, right in the midst of it all, just like you are now."

With that connection made, Sarah felt a shift in her perspective. This was no longer just about diving into history or helping her best friend—it was personal. It linked them to a family story that spanned generations, wrapping Lizzy and her into a narrative bigger than they had imagined. She looked over at Lizzy, determination setting in. They had a plane to catch, and some history of their own to make.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Sarah and Lizzy were in the museum office, enveloped by the soft murmur of activity as Fred sorted through what they dubbed "donations" from Abigail, organising them into meticulously arranged piles. Despite the normalcy of the scene, Sarah’s mind was elsewhere, wrestling with information she wasn’t yet ready to share. With a casual air that belied her internal tension, she glanced over at Geoff and Fred.

"You wouldn’t happen to know who owns the bomber featured at this weekend’s air show, would you? Any chance we could get Lizzy on board?" she asked, her voice casual but tinged with an undercurrent of urgency.

Geoff and Fred exchanged a look of uncertainty. "We might be able to pull some strings," Fred replied, scratching his head thoughtfully.

"Could those strings possibly extend to Liz flying it?" Sarah probed further, the urgency now barely masked by her nonchalant stance.

The room was suddenly filled with a cacophony of concerns. Lizzy, typically more outspoken, only managed a half-hearted jest, "I haven’t flown in years!" Geoff, more grounded, pointed out, "She's been nearly drunk nonstop for a week; she'd need to sober up first." Fred, ever the sceptic, added, "Plus, her pilot’s licence isn’t even current."

Sarah raised her hands, silencing the room with a firm gesture. "This is about more than just licences or sobriety. Lizzy and I need to be on that plane, and we need to fly it to Germany. It’s our only shot at making things right."

Lizzy laughed, more out of disbelief than amusement. "You want to steal a B-17?"

Sarah's composure momentarily faltered, and she let loose a passionate outburst. "I’ve been buried in archives for days, uncovering everything about this damn bomb group and the hell they went through—the very hell you lived through! I can’t—and won’t—stand by and watch you disintegrate under the weight of haunting memories and a lost love so profound I can literally see it breaking your heart." Her voice softened as her eyes locked with Lizzy’s. "Getting on that plane might be our only chance to end these nightmares."

Lizzy’s scepticism, however, remained steadfast. "And what happens when we hit that cloud bank over Berlin? We just dive right into the middle of a war and hope for the best? I tried that once, remember? Look where it got me."

Sarah’s eyes hardened with resolve, her tone steely. "No more self-pity, Lizzy. And no more whiskey. You're going to get sober whether you like it or not, and you're getting ready to fly. Lieutenant,” she used Lizzy’s rank to underscore her point, causing Lizzy to straighten her posture, “you need to clean yourself up. Check if your flying overalls still fit and remember how to do your hair up properly because you’re going to look the part, even if I have to dress you myself. Understood?"

Lizzy put her glass down, mumbling a resigned “Yes, ma’am,” acknowledging Sarah’s uncompromising stance.

"The nightmares those men endured now plague me too," Sarah continued, her voice unwavering. "And I’ll be damned if we don’t at least try to see if flying through that cloud again can put an end to all this."

Turning back to Geoff and Fred with a determined yet composed look, Sarah requested, "Please, make the call. Let's see if we can list her as a pilot. I'm really counting on this to help her." She paused, her tone softening further, "And could we find a flying jacket that fits? you know how pilots are about the cold.”

Taglist:

@victoryrollsandredlips @bobparkhurst @prettyinlimegreenboots @ginabaker1666 @thedeviltohisangel

#John Egan x Lizzy Waterfield #Masters of the Air #Major John Egan #Lizzy Waterfield #Major Gale Cleven #Major Harry Crosby #Major Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal #Mota #mastersoftheair #mota fanfiction #sarah taylor (oc) #come home to me

[serene-sun]

𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝕭𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖓 🏳️‍⚧️

Pairing: Swiss x trans OC

Warnings: crying, self doubt, coming out, trans topics

Word count: 1k

Summary: tonight’s show in Berlin ends up taking some wheight off of their chest.

A/n: completely inspired by today's pic of Swiss with the trans flag!

“Ha!” Swiss squeaked, throwing his guitar pick into the sea of waving and cheating fans.

I come up behind him, sneaking up to scare him. 

The lights are loud, and everyone seems so happy. I love this, this after-ritual feeling. Its been a great night, no mess-ups and no difficulties.

“Boo!” I pounce onto the ghoul from behind, attaching to his back as he stumbles forward.

“Oh, you scared me!” He breathlessly says

“Haha, sorry, couldn't help it!” I laugh, feeling him smile as I get off him.

“Oh, look we're about to do final bows.” Swiss direct my attention to the other ghouls lining up with Papa.

“Oh yeah,” I say, grabbing his hand and prancing over there with the jolly ghoul.

It has been only a few months since I was summoned, apparently, they needed backup and extra bass. Since the moment they searched for my element mark, and found that my summoning was very difficult, they have always checked in on me daily. I grew very close to Swiss, as he was after all the first ghoul I laid eyes upon. I never got too close to get intimate or physical, I was always fearful they would find things they didn't like. One was that I had in fact, not been born a guy. Another is that I had several scars from the times that I had lived. I assumed they knew, but when they never said anything and went on like I was normal…I couldn't bring myself to let them down. 

They all assumed I was normal.

Some bright colors catch my attention, my eyes latch onto the flag that Swiss was holding.

Swiss tries to take my hand, I stand between him and Phantom.

“Hey, you ok?” Swiss can tell something is off.

“Yeah, yeah, what's that?” I already know that the flag he's holding is that of the trans community, but I double-check, I also don't want to bring it up myself.

“Oh, this? A fan threw it on stage, it's the trans flag, probably because it's pride month ya know?” Swiss finishes, and yet my eyes can't decide if I should look at his pretty eyes shining through the mask or the flag that felt like it hated me. 

After we bow, we all head back to the dressing rooms. A bunch of gasps of relief echoes down the hallway as tails fly out of pants, and strangled hood masks come off of sweaty hair and messed up black-out makeup. 

“Hey, you sure your ok? You were shaking pretty bad, and that wasn't adrenaline shakes haha.” Swiss gives an honest smile, making sure I was ok for the 2nd time that day. 

I comb through my hair with my fingers, the glamour fading as small claws appear. I wince at occasional knots and tangles within the long black curls.

“Yeah… it's nothing.” I try my hardest to give a fake smile, but it fades away as soon as his eyes leave mine.

It's not like I hated the way I was, it's just that I never wanted it to become my personality. So I completely stopped saying it, letting the choice of having pride in it go. It's not like I hated the flag either, it just felt like being so close to it, was making it closer to them figuring out the obvious thing about me.

“Here, come with me.’ Swiss takes my hand again, I now notice how sweaty it is, but I follow him as he guides me down to the dressing room that he shared with Rain, Phantom, and myself.

“You started acting weird when you saw the flag, Are you sure you're ok? Don't lie, I know it was more than nerves.” Swiss pulls me into the room and turns the lights on.

I start to panic, my chest feels tight, my hands feel numb and my face feels hot.

I start to pick at my nails with my other hand, bringing them together at my waist. 

Everything I want to say, I swallow.

“Nothin.” I say Brittle

“If you feel nothing, then why are you shaking?” Swiss asks, low.

His words ring the bells of panic in my head, my ears go down, and my tail stays still between my legs as if I've been injured.

“It’s- hard…to explain.” My voice cracks

Dammit, he definitely knows now

“I feel that you are scared, and I want you to know that there's nothing to worry about.” Swiss rubs my arm assuringly.

For once I hate that he can practically read my mind, that was so connected. Although I feel the warmth and fuzzy yellow glow in him, I'm still too frightened to tell him. 

Maybe it's not fear, maybe it's the acceptance I have to have before I can say it

“It's alright. It's ok if you're not ready.” Swiss sighs, trying to make it seem like it's not bothering him.

“Swiss, promise you won't see me any different?” I ask, a tear falling down my cheeks silently.

The multi-ghoul turns around, wiping away the tear and cupping my face. 

‘Of course not!” He says, his other hand cupping the other cheek just as lovingly.

Is this the part where I die?

“You do realize it's okay if your trans right? You're the same person, it just gives me more knowledge.” Swiss tilts his head

I stay silent, I feel my blood stop moving, my heart stops beating, my brain stutter.

“How?” I know he can finish my question.

“When you were summoned, the only thing you wore was the eternal red flames of hell. When I searched for your element mark, I had to look across your abdomen.” Swiss has a bit of a smile, and he turns away to finish packing his bag.

“You act as if being trans is a bad thing, it doesn't change who you are.” Swiss chuckled, “And it sure as hell doesn't make up your entire personality.” 

I stand there like a complete idiot, “You knew I was trans this entire time?” 

“What? We all did, don't be silly.” A new voice enters the room, it's Rain and Phantom coming to pack their bags for the hotel.

I panic, how much have they heard? Have the others been listening too?

“Come along now! We're about to be kicked out, another band is playing here tonight.” Papa’s voice rings down the hallways, and several tired “okay”s hum together. 

“Come on, don't be upset, nothing to worry about.” Swiss pats my back throws my bag at me, and walks out the door.

I'm still so stunned, I falter to walk behind him.

“Alone or not, you gotta walk forward.” Rain passes by me, I must be walking slowly.

“In the end, it's your presence that matters.” I hear Swiss say, staying in place to catch up.

I feel tears prickle up, so you don't see me differently? So you do still love me?

#serene sun nocontext #the band ghost #ghost band #serene sun writes #the band ghost x reader #nameless ghouls x reader #nameless ghouls #the band ghost swiss ghoul #swiss ghoul x reader #nameless ghoul swiss #swiss ghost #ghost the band #the band ghost oc #swiss x transmasc reader #rain x reader #phantom x reader

[dancingsunflowers-ocs]

I thought my heart had learned its lesson It feels so good when you start out My head is screaming “Get a grip, girl Unless you’re dying to cry your heart out

𝗣𝗔𝗩𝗘𝗟 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗞𝗢𝗩 𝘅 𝗦𝗬𝗗𝗡𝗘𝗬 𝗕𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗡 ✸ 𝗜 𝗪𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗦𝗮𝘆 (𝗜'𝗺 𝗜𝗻 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲) 𝗯𝘆 𝗖𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗲 𝗛𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝗙𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿

#star trek #star trek oc #star trek: the original series #pavel chekov #oc: sydney berlin #ship: pavel chekov x sydney berlin #ocappreciation #ochub #allaboutocs #occentral #original character #ocapp #fyeahstartrekocs #ocfairygodmother #decided to go back to her original fc #as I am so happy to have finally learnt the screen recording option 🥲

[liaromancewriter]

for the <100 drabble:

Ethan, Max, divorce

Taking Care of Business

Premise: Ethan is presented with an important contract.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine); feat. Max Valentine (M!OC) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 760

A/N: Submission for @choicesseptemberchallenge2023 day 25 prompt: surprise; I'm using @choicesflashfics week 52, prompt 3.

The knock came at the most unfortunate time. Ethan Ramsey was feeling harried after waiting two hours for the workers only to have them arrive with the wrong materials and take another hour to return with the right ones.

He swung open the front door to his apartment, his scowl turning right side up when he saw his best man on the other side.

“Well … this is unexpected,” Ethan said, stepping back to let Max Valentine in. “I thought you were traveling.”

“Caught the red-eye from Berlin,” Max explained. He held up a legal-sized manila envelope. “We have business to take care of, mon frère.”

Ethan smiled wryly, shaking his head. Max had started teasing him with that term after Ethan commented last time on the oddity of being anyone’s brother-in-law.

The younger man paused in the middle of the living room floor and frowned at the banging coming from the bedroom.

“Bad timing?”

“Ignore that.” Ethan waved away the sound and invited Max to sit at the kitchen island. “Changing up some things in the bedroom and ensuite before Cassie moves on.”

Ethan switched on the electric kettle and espresso machine at the same time. “Does your sister know you’re in town?”

“Yeah, we met up for brunch earlier,” Max said, brushing one hand down his hair and rolling the kinks out of his neck. His lips kicked up in amusement. “She thought this,” he nodded at the envelope, “would be better handled by me than Huey, Dewey, and Louie.”

“Our family’s lawyers,” Max added when Ethan looked confused. “Don’t worry, they’re not actually called that. Inside joke between Cassie and me.”

Ethan recalled the brief conversation with his fiancée last week. Given the short turnaround between their engagement and wedding, her family had been pushing to get the prenuptial agreement signed sooner rather than later.

Max removed the papers from the envelope and turned them towards Ethan.

“You’ll find the terms are very generous. Cassie wouldn’t accept anything less. You both keep what you bring in, equitable division of marital property, yada, yada,” he said. “Still, have your lawyer take a look and redline it. I’ll forward the electronic document to you.”

Ethan scanned the papers, noting the provisions for divorce, infidelity and dissolution of marriage by either party. The lawyers had done a thorough job of outlining all scenarios. What did it say about him that he was unfazed by this?

“There’s one non-negotiable clause,” Max continued as Ethan flipped the page. “You’ll receive shares in the Hudson Group after the ceremony, but they’ll revert to the family in case of divorce or death unless you and Cassie have kids.”

“Be honest,” Ethan mused, peeking at Max over the papers. “What are the chances of your sister divorcing me or letting me divorce her?”

“Since Cassie will have you buried six feet under before you can finish that thought, I’d say slim to none,” Max laughed. “But the Group’s lawyers don’t share her sunny optimism.”

“Where do I sign?” Ethan took a pen out of the kitchen junk drawer.

“As your best man, I advise you to take this to your lawyer,” Max said, all joviality wiped from his face. “Prenups are serious business, Ethan. No matter how inevitable the two of you think you are, I’ve seen strong marriages falter over the most inconsequential things.”

“Were any of them Valentines?” Ethan asked curiously.

“Not the immediate relations, but—”

“I appreciate you looking out for me,” Ethan interrupted, putting a hand up when Max started to speak. “But I’m not marrying your sister for her money or for shares in the Hudson Group. I have a comfortable life, and my father is taken care of. I don’t need anything else.”

Max drummed his fingers against the quartz countertop and stared at Ethan. The considering look in his green eyes was so similar to the one Ethan often witnessed in Cassie that he almost did a double take.

“Fine.” Max reached for his phone. “I’ll have the lawyers email you the DocuSign link. An electronic signature is easiest and more convenient since they need to file the paperwork before the wedding.”

Ethan smirked when Max threw him an annoyed look, again so much like his fiancée. “Cassie told me you’d do this, but I was adamant that you were too level-headed to sign a legal contract without proper advice. You just cost me two hundred bucks.”

“You can afford it,” Ethan said without remorse before turning away to switch off the whistling kettle. “Tea or something stronger?”

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

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @midnightmelodiz

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @hopelessromantic1352 @mrs-ramsey @youlookappropriate

#open heart #open heart fanfics #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfics #choices fanfiction #ethan ramsey #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine #max valentine #open heart choices