#this is why i said in the past that if john had short hair and a fuller beard he'd look a LOT like his dad
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Ian and Noelle
#ts4#the sims 4#sims 4#ts4 edit#ts4 render#s4 render#s4 edit#oc: ian#oc: noelle#there was gonna be a version with ian beardless... but he looks ever so slightly off to me#this is why i said in the past that if john had short hair and a fuller beard he'd look a LOT like his dad#i haven't picked a height for him but noelle is standing on a box even tho she got heels on#casual dad reveal
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The Don’t Worry Darling Premiere: A Summary
At the Venice Film Festival
FLORENCE BEING SO SASSY
Interviewer: “Your role is so inspiring”
Florence: “why is it inspiring?… I think it’s inspiring for a woman to say ‘no’ on and off camera”
They said she couldn’t make it to the press conference due to scheduling issues but she showed up 10 minutes after it started. The lead actress didn’t want to go to the press conference.
also these posts and the captions (Rebecca Corbin Murray is Florence’s stylist)
HARRY TAKING NOTHING SERIOUSLY
literally giggling at fans during the panel when Olivia was asked about the Shia and Florence controversy
this man did not answer a single question and he knows it (louis was spot on when he said “you do talk some shit in interviews” lmao)
Harry during the panel:
“Was that an answer? It was words.”
“what I like about acting is that I have no idea about what I’m doing”
“my favourite thing about the movie is that it feels like a movie”
During the interview with him and Chris Pine he went directly against what Olivia has said about the movie saying that it’s more misogynistic than feminist
NO ONE EXCEPT OLIVIA LOOKS LIKE THEY WANT TO BE THERE
Chris Pine is taking one for the team and being a neutral party (but still looking like he wants to leave). He was not asked many questions at all. Also he was the one to sit next to Olivia for everything
Gemma Chan was barely asked a question in the press conference and when she was she was reprimanded for being too quiet.
Harry doesn’t care at all about the panel, just talking and giggling with Gemma and the fans. He was asked the most questions of the actors and the only ones he gave a real answer for were about his fans and music
Obviously Florence doesn’t want to be there and wasn’t in the panel, but she’s also getting pushed to the side even though she’s literally the lead
REPORTERS WERE STOPPED FROM ASKING ABOUT THE SHIA AND FLORENCE THING
FLORENCE AND HARRY SLAYING WITH THE FITS
Harry giving Elton John energy with the glasses and just over all outfits. Or fruity Tony Stark.
Harry wearing a blue bandana during the press conference ;) (it’s technically a scarf but close enough)
Florence showing up in an adorable three piece purple shorts and blazer set (link)
Then she stole the show in the sparkly gown giving Marylin Monroe with the hair and diamonds
Also Gemma Chan is just one of the most gorgeous people to ever live and she slayed too of course because how could she not
Chris Pine and Nick Kroll hyped Florence up on the red carpet, taking pictures and acting like a proud dad
OLIVIA WAS IGNORED ON THE RED CARPET
Harry and Florence both went out of their way to hug everyone except Olivia, walking right past her. Neither of them talked to her, barely even looking at her
Harry stuck with talking to Gemma again, and flirting talking with Nick Kroll
When taking a picture with the whole cast, Harry’s as asked to stand next to Olivia and he refused. In this moment he also walked straight past her to fist bump Nick Kroll.
As they sat down for the movie she kept looking over trying to get Harry’s attention but he just stared straight forward or talked to Gemma
When the movie was over people only clapped for the actors, and all the actors were facing away from her and laughing with each other
Similar to Harry, Florence refused to make eye contact with Olivia when the movie audience was applauding her
HARRY AND NICK KROLL KISSED AFTER THE MOVIE. TWICE. LMAOOOOO
Olivia saw this happen and had a disgusted look on her face (link bc I can’t put any more pictures)
Edit: that not her reaction to the kiss sorry!!! Its after she was tried to get Harry’s attention and couldn’t
Also Harry and Nick 100% planned it. If you see the video they give each other a cheeky little look and go right for it. I am will to bet that Nick was like “you should just kiss me after because everyone will be expecting you to kiss her”
THE CLAPPING AFTER THE MOVIE WAS CUT SHORT BECAUSE FLORENCE LEFT
After about 3 minutes of clapping Florence started leaving and the rest of the cast followed. That’s a statement if I’ve ever seen one.
OLIVIA AND THE MOVIE ARE BEING EATEN ALIVE IN REVIEWS RIGHT NOW
(these are just a very few of the many examples)
Florence is praised for her performance, taking a bad movie and giving it her all
Harry is said to be sort of lost in the movie, not with terrible acting, just outshined by Florence’s performance. And yet it apparently still reads as a fan edit of Harry
The sex scenes that were so hyped up are supposedly very uncomfortable
So in conclusion the premiere was awkward and kind of a train wreck, as is the movie according to reviews. The actors in the movie showed up, slayed with the outfits, laughed with each other, didn’t answer a single question, not-so-subtly shaded Olivia and left.
#i was so not looking forward to everything being about Olivia today but this was leaps and bounds better than I expected#venice film festival#florence pugh#harry styles#gemma chan#chris pine#nick kroll#olivia wilde#don’t worry darling
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A little pain with your pleasure
Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Adrenaline is a crazy natural drug and you’re driving them crazy with how calm you are • SFW/Small Angst • TW: Stab wounds
Requested by: Anon
“What you got there?”
Glenn’s voice not only startled the poor guy but even cut through Daryl’s thoughts that he forgot for a split second what he had in his hand.
“A Walkman. Found one on a past run”
“Oh, neat. Did you find some cassettes for it? I think there’s like a box of them in the warden’s office but those could also be confessional tapes and I don’t think I wanna know about why a prisoner ended up in prison”
“Me neither. It’s for Y/N. I found some cassettes with it when I found it. Queen, Elton John,…I think there was a Micheal Jackson one. I don’t know.” Daryl scratches the side of his face as he thought about another cassette before shrugging it off. “It was broken when I found it and Sasha helped me fix it for her.”
“Well ain’t that awful sweet of you” Glenn smirks bringing himself to sit across from him on the picnic table. Daryl instantly glaring at the man knowing where he could be going. “I wanna be there when you give it to her. I know she’ll be super excited getting that from you”
“The fuck you mean by that?” Daryl snapped slightly as Glenn shrugged with a smirk. “Speaking of Y/N. Have you seen her?”
“I was actually gonna ask you the same thing. She said if she decided on a 3-Day run that she would help me with the south fence repair when she came back” Glenn sighs running his hand through his hair. “Think she’s out for a week?”
“Mm. Better not. She promised me she’d help with the snares”
“Oh she promised you but didn’t promise me? Obviously she likes a certain someone more than me” He really didn’t catch the hint that Daryl hated the teasing and the glare made him realize he should stop before he’s tossed into a walker. “Okay fine. Mind helping me with the fence and I’ll help you with the snares”
Daryl sighs, nodding picking up the Walkman and going to put it away before helping Glenn with the fence.
After a while, the fence was done, and the two split into the nearby woods to check the snares at a faster pace compared to doing it together. Even if Daryl would’ve spent hours in the woods if it meant being with Y/N.
Daryl made his way toward the snares closer to the front gates, liking to go from the furthest to the closest snares so he could head right in when he’s done. But he was also going to check Glenn’s work on setting up the traps back up. He suddenly halted when he heard footsteps, causing him to ready his crossbow for a walker but relaxed when the bloodied dirty figure came into view.
“Jesus Christ”
“What?” Y/N laughs nervously. “Is there something on my face?”
“Yeah blood and dirt” Daryl scoffs bringing himself close, resting his hand on her cheek brushing off some of the dirt from her cheek. “The fuck happen on your run?”
“Oh that’s a great story so—-“
“Y/N!” Glenn shouted her name while also making it clear of his presence coming up behind Daryl and eventually to his side. “What took you so long getting back?!”
“Well it’s uh a short story—-“
“Glenn I just asked them about the run. Did yea finish the snares on your side?”
“Yeah I did, now Y/N?”
“Yeah…how was the run?”
“Well I got stabbed in the back” Her expression tensed watching the two start their lines of questioning. But every chance she tried to correct she kept getting cut off.
“What do you mean you got stabbed in the back?”
“Let me start with how it hap—“
“Where is this guy? I thought you went on the run alone”
“I did go alone Im trying—-“
“This guy is dead meat if he tries to come after yea. Plenty of fighters here” Daryl stated as Glenn nods in agreement.
“Who would turn on you? Maybe it was—-“
“SHUT UP!” Y/N shouted, resulting in a wince that definitely confused the two. But her face returned to the discomfort it had before running into Daryl. “I got literally stabbed in the damn back” she turned to show the two the knife that was embedded deep in her shoulder.
No more words were said. All Daryl did was smack Glenn forcing him in the direction of the gates to get them opened. Y/N frowns watching him bring himself to her back to feel around the wound before, without warning, rip her flannel open and forced her to take it off.
“You owe me!”
“Just wait til we get inside. Hershel is gonna want to see it and he’s gonna have to cut your shirt anyway”
“Doesn’t mean you had to rip my favorite flannel!” Y/N shouted as Daryl watched her back tense and the knife shift.
“Stop shouting and let’s get yea inside” Daryl scoffs taking her pack from her and directing her back to the prison.
While Hershel stitched her up, Y/N was telling them the story of how it happened. How this stranger that passed the 3 questions decided to just turn on her and try to kill her for her stuff. It wasn’t a pretty scene and given how Y/N felt about killing people, she was only late in her return because she didn’t want to come back feeling the way that she did. That part she didn’t tell them. She just fibbed by saying she lost the car she had. After being patched up, Y/N made her way back to her cell in need of clean clothes and a shirt that isn’t in pieces.
“Hey”
Y/N stopped right before her cell to acknowledge Daryl. “Hey”
“Your back feelin’ any better?”
“Having stitches suck” She laughs it off, no longer wincing from her back. “Maybe next time I’ll bring you on the run”
“I’ll keep yea safe” Daryl murmurs, leaning against the metal doors as Y/N brought herself close leaning with him.
“Next time the knife will be in your back” She jokes receiving a breathy chuckle in response. “You know I’m kidding…I’ll always have your back out there Dar” she whispers as she brought her lips to his cheek keeping her hand planted on his chest. “Thanks for worrying about me”
Before she pulled away too far, Daryl gently grabbed her waist pulling her into him. He admired her features for a moment then planted his lips firmly onto hers. Y/N was taken back but relaxed almost instantly, bringing her arms around his neck keeping him close.
When they parted, Daryl pulled away a little while taking the torn shirt from her hands.
“I’ve got a surprise for yea. But I also have a shirt…we just. Need to go to my cell for both”
Y/N couldn’t contain her smile as she took his free hand. “Lead the way Dixon”
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you belong with me
pairing: jj maybank x bestfriend!reader
summary: reader is in love with jj, but jj’s dating another girl…
warnings: unmutual pining, minor profanity, poorly edited, cliffhanger (sorry i got lazy), short pt. 2 if people want it idk, little angst and fluff
approx. reading time: 8 minutes and 30 seconds
writing inspo: you belong with me (taylor’s version) by taylor swift
masterlist :)
“wait what?” i exclaimed. i was sitting in sarah’s room listening to her talk about her day at the beach with the pogues.
“yes i swear! he brought emily there and had his arm wrapped around her and everything! didn’t even surf, which is crazy for jj.”
“so he must be serious about this girl, right?” i sighed as i layed on her bed. i couldn’t believe it. jj maybank? in a relationship with a kook girl?
“i mean i don’t know much. but if i’m being honest, he didn’t seem that interested in her.” she talked as she curled her hair for her date with john b. i stayed silent. i couldn’t believe it.
————————————————————————————
“hey y/n!” i stopped in my tracks. i knew that voice all too well. and it was the voice of someone i had been ignoring for the past two weeks. i turned slowly to face him.
“hey.” i said looking at the floor. purposely avoiding eye contact. it wasn’t that i didn’t want to see jj, i did. but it hurt to know he was dating someone else. especially emily, someone who was drastically different from me, from all the pogues to be honest.
“i feel like i haven’t seen you in forever. what’s up with that? sarah told me you’ve been sick, but i told her that was bullshit. you haven’t gotten sick since like the 3rd grade.” he grabbed me by the shoulders playfully. i look up to see emily staring at me from the bar.
“uh yeah. i don’t know what happened. probably got it from my parents after they came back from new york.” it was a lie. my parents hadn’t been to new york in ages.
with emily giving me a death stare and jj touching me, i was feeling claustrophobic and a little freaked out, “anyways look i’ll see you later. i have to get home and get some homework done.” i turn around and start walking before he can begin a sentence.
————————————————————————————
you're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset
she's going off about something that you said
‘cause she doesn't get your humor like I do
my eyes were closed while i sunbathed on the beach before i was interrupted by another call on my phone.
jj <3 - 3 missed calls
jj <3 - calling now
“hello?”
“y/n? y/n! hey how- how are you doing?” he stutters a bit.
“hey i’m doing fine? are you okay? you sound a little weird.”
“i’m good just pissed at emily.” he huffed.
“ahh emily. so how is your new girlfriend?”
“she’s pissed at me for some lame joke i made with pope. and she called attacking me and shit because i was being a douchebag or something.”
“ha what else is new.” i joke. and he laughs which stops my heart for a minute. i pause then ask,
“what was the joke?” i ask, curious to know why emily would be so upset.
“i told her the dress she was wearing looked like a hospital gown and she got all pissed. wasn’t even a good joke…” he mumbled.
i laughed, he was right. it wasn’t, i could think of thousands of jokes better, but i could tell it must’ve been an attempt to make emily and pope laugh.
“i guess she doesn’t get your humor.”
“guess not…” he sighs then starts again,
“hey l was wondering if you wanted to hang out later. i don’t know i’ve been feeling really distant from you recently.
“yeah i’m sorry about that, um so like with the pogues or…?”
“nah just yo- sorry hold that thought emily’s calling me and i really don’t want to make her more mad. i’ll call you back.”
he never called back.
————————————————————————————
im in the room, it's a typical tuesday night
im listening to the kind of music she doesn't like
and she'll never know your story like I do
a week had passed and he still hadn’t called me. i wasn’t even trying to ignore him anymore, he just was never around. school had ended and summer break had finally begun. and still no call.
as i layed on my bed and sang along to “the blue” by gracie abrams, sarah tries convincing me to talk to jj.
“why don’t you just call him? see what’s up? it’s not like him to be this distant. it’s with john b too, hasn’t been to the chateau recently. and you know how his dad is.”
“a shitty father is what he is.” i spit out. even though i was irritated at jj for not even trying to keep any communication between any of the pogues my hatred for luke will always be worse.
i sit up, “look he’s probably fine and with emily. i’ll talk to john b to get him to chill. but honestly i don’t think jj wants to keep contact with any of us. if he wanted to he would have.”
“i don’t know, you should call him. emily has like tied him up all for herself. have you noticed that?”
but she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts
shes cheer captain and im on the bleachers
dreaming 'bout the day when you wake up and find
that what you're looking for has been here the whole time
“i mean i think everyone has. or that fact that she’s nothing like any of us and exactly like the type of girl he would make fun of.”
“a kook princess, like what i was.”
“exactly. i don’t want to judge him but why would he go into a relationship with someone who he so obviously doesn’t like?”
���something is up y/n. go figure it out.” she grabbed my car keys and pushed me out the door.
————————————————————————————
standing by and waiting at your back door
all this time, how could you not know, baby?
you belong with me, you belong with me
i take a deep breathe before knocking at his door.
no response. i knock again.
“hello! anyone home?”
“shut the hell u- y/n?” jj opens the door.
“hi- hey i just came to check on you. can i come in?”
he turns back, no doubt looking for his father. “probably not the best idea.”
“yeah- yeah uh wanna go to mine? so we can talk?” he nods and shuts the door behind him. he doesn’t make eye contact but all i can do is stare at the blood on his face and knuckles.
oh, I remember you driving to my house
in the middle of the night
im the one who makes you laugh
when you know you're 'bout to cry
and I know your favorite songs
and you tell me 'bout your dreams
think I know where you belong
think I know it's with me
i unlock my house from the back door to hopefully not make as much noise. my parents couldn’t find out i was sneaking in a boy in the middle of the night. i hurriedly close the door to my room and turn to him.
“are you okay?” i spill out.
“yes.” he’s quiet, that’s not the jj i know.
“you know you can talk to us, right? like any of the pogues, we’re here for you. i’m here for you.” i move closer and touch the blood on his forehead, and he winces. his head is sticky, like if he had been sweating. and i can’t decide whether it’s because of the humidity or if he was fighting with his father. probably both.
“luke?” he just nods. my heart breaks for him. i grab his hand and let him sit on my bed. i grab my first aid kit and rubbing alcohol and get to work on the blood and bruises on his hand and knuckles.
we sit in comfortable silence. but it was mostly me waiting to see if he was going to talk about his dad.
“i didn’t want to ignore you guys.” he speaks so low, i almost couldnt hear him. i kneel down so i can look at his face.
“then why did you?”
“i- i told my dad something, stupid i know. but he blew up on me a couple weeks ago. told me his boss had a nice daughter named emily my age. said if i could get with her, he’d get more money or some shit. i don’t know i guess i wanted to make him proud. so i- i started dating her. kept fucking it up and he would beat the shit out of me. didn’t want you guys to see me like that.”
i sighed. my hands were holding his for comfort. something we’d done since we were kids but felt really unfamiliar now.
“what’d you tell your dad to make him set you up with emily?”
he coughed, “told’m that i loved someone.”
my heart dropped for the second time in two months. why did i even think for a second that’d i’d have a chance? i told myself we belonged together.
“oh.” i got up and released my hands from his. suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. i cleared my throat.
“um well, i have some sleeping bags in my closet and if you want you can sleep in my bed or um whatever feels more com-“
“i told him i loved you.”
#jj maybank#obx#obx fanfiction#obx cast#obx fic#jj mayback imagine#jj mayback x reader#you belong with me#fearless#fearless taylor’s version#taylor swift#jjmaybank#outer banks#obx fan fiction#jj maybank x you#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank angst#angst#outer banks jj#jj outer banks#obx imagine#obx netflix#obx jj#obx3#obx season 3
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Band!141 x Reader - Roach
“Thank you, we’ll call in a few days..”
Your stomach churned. Were they really going to call you? Or, was that just what they told the dancers they weren’t satisfied with?
Your feet carried you down the street, pushing past the crowds of people that flood into the city every day. Your stomach growls. In your rush to get to the audition, you hadn’t eaten breakfast today and you were starving. You take out your phone to check what’s around.There was a little diner open nearby, it wasn’t exactly the fanciest place, but it was cheap enough for your budget. You turn to head towards the diner only to walk directly into someone, your phone clattering to the sidewalk.
You stumble back to see a young man, perhaps only a few years older than yourself. He’s tall, though certainly not the tallest you’d seen today. He’s got spiky brown hair, which you imagine might be soft and fluffy without all the gel in it, and soft brown eyes. He’s wearing a tight fitting black muscle-tee that cut just slightly too short, showing off his midriff and a pair of fitted black ripped jeans. Just how many punks were you going to run into today?
“Woah, hey sorry,” he said, bending over to pick up your phone and offer it back to you. You quickly take it, frowning as you see the screen is cracked now. “Oh damn it, sorry ‘bout that.”
“It’s… it’s fine,” you say dejectedly. It’s not, but it’s not his fault you walked right into him and dropped your phone.
“Hey, I’m going to meet some friends for lunch,” he says. “Why don’t you come along? My treat, I feel bad about your phone.”
You look him over cautiously. “I don’t even know your name,” you say.
“My friends call me Roach,” he says with a grin. “But you can call me Gary if you’d rather.”
“It’s nice to meet you Gary,” you say, giving him your name as well. “Roach is a funny nickname.”
“Yeah, my mates and I used to mess around with fireworks,” Gary explains. “Couple times I didn’t get away fast enough, somehow I didn’t get hurt though. My mates said I was like a roach, just surviving anything.” He chuckles at the memory. “How about that lunch then?”
You think for a moment. Is it really safe to go with a perfect stranger? The band you met on the subway jumps into your mind. They’d been nice enough to stop the train for you and offer you a seat in the full car, perhaps Gary was just as nice.
“Sure, why not?” you say. “Couldn’t hurt.”
Gary grins at you and you can’t help but smile back. There’s just something friendly about him, you just hope his friends are as nice.
---
“Roach! You made it!” A familiar voice calling from a booth at the back of the bar shouts out. You turn to see the same group of men you’d met just earlier that day. It’s Kyle that spots you first out of them, that amazing smile crossing his face. “I see you met our new friend.”
You and Gary walk over and you take a seat near the middle of the table, between Kyle and Gary. You look at the latter. “You know, when you said you were meeting friends, I should have guessed this is who you meant,” you say with a giggle. Looking around the table, Johnny and Ghost were sitting at the far end from you, Ghost having just pulled his mask back up to cover his face when he saw you walk over. John was sitting on the other side of Kyle from you, he drank from his beer and smiled at you.
“How’d you get on at your audition, love?” John asked, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Did’ya get in?”
“Oh uh.. They said I should hear back in a couple days,” you say, fidgeting with your napkin. You still weren’t so sure the instructors had actually meant it though.
“I see..” John said thoughtfully.
“Bonnie thing lek ye?” Johnny chimed in from his seat next to Ghost. “They wis probably speechless or summat.” Ghost nudged him in the ribs with a sharp look.
“Audition?” Gary asked, looking at you. “Whatcha tryin’ out for?”
Before you could answer, Kyle wrapped his arm over your shoulder, though he kept his grip light enough that you could slip away if you wanted to. “Ballet, that fancy place,” he said. “Gonna be a real principal dancer one day.”
Your face feels hot at his confidence. “Oh well… I don’t know about all that,” you say nervously. “I mean.. I’d just be happy in the corps de ballet really.” You’re not really certain you’ve got what it takes for a lead role anyway. “How did that recording go anyway?” you ask, trying to change the subject.
“Fine, if Soap would focus,” John rumbles, shooting the younger man a look.
“Haud yer wheesht!” Johnny exclaims looking a bit flustered himself. “Aye wis jus’ think’n alood.”
“An’ not staying on beat,” Kyle teased back.
“Oh I’m sorry..” you say, feeling bad for asking now.
“Dinna fash, leannan,” Johnny laughs. He starts to stand up. “Am gett’n ‘nother round.” He returns a few moments later and slides a bubbly red drink in front of you with one of those little paper umbrellas in it.
“What is it?” you ask. Johnny only grins and shrugs at you. Despite your better judgment you take a sip, surprised not to taste any alcohol in the cherry flavored drink at all. “Is this a Shirley Temple?” Your surprised reaction makes the table laugh.
“They’re not a kid Johnny,” Kyle laughs. He looks at you. “Lemme know if you want a real drink.” All you can do is nod quietly in response as you sip your Shirley Temple.
#141 band#band!141#141 x reader#simon riley#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#john price#john mactavish#soap#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#gaz#gary roach sanderson#gary sanderson#roach
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Hellooo how are you this fine evening..
I wanted the ask if you could make one for jj where he does something that upsets the reader and she’s crying and sad and jj gets the silent treatment the whole week but he starts to cry hard and beg for her to talk to him and reader can’t help but comfort and hug him and give him all the love that she has and jj is all pouty and sad in the end
It’s fine if not <3 :)
didn't mean to ~ jj maybank x reader
pairing: JJ Maybank x Kook!Fem!Reader
warnings: language, angst, arguing, silent treatment.
notes: thxs for the request! Sorry I haven't posted in forever guys, im doing final exams at school rn and stuff. Also, sorry this is so short. But anyway, I loved this concept and also hated the way they solved JJ and Kie's fight in Season 4 so I tried to recreate it here with a better ending. Sorry, this took so long lol, much love!
~<>~<>~<>~<>~
"I mean, it would all blow up anyway. You know? Like... Look at you. You got your new threads on!" JJ exclaimed. "Look at me. What do I got? This? This piece of shit?" He threw something out of frustration, panting. You looked back at his run-down house, the eviction notice nailed to the front door with bright yellow police tape crossing over it.
"Getting kicked out of this place in three weeks anyway. shit, I don't even got parents right now. Why would you care? Why would you care? I'm just some loser that..."
"JJ..."
"You don't care. No, you don't!"
"I do care!" you shouted, getting frustrated with his attitude.
"No, you got parents that live in Figure Eight, you know?"
"That's not my fault."
"That's your future." he countered walking towards the water, hand running through his hair in frustration.
"Look, if you need us, we're gonna help you. I'm... I'll help."
"No- It's that right there! Okay? Like... It's so easy for you to say that." he whirled around to face you, yelling, "You know why? Because you're a Kook. You're a Kook, Y/n!"
"Yeah... I'm a Kook. I was such a Kook when I was living in a cave with you for a month! Soaking in the Kook life!"
"That's not what I'm talking about. GOD!" he exclaimed, reaching for his bike, he swung his leg over the seat.
"Jayj, don't leave." you pleaded, the engine of his bike revved and he started to drive away,
"JJ, WHAT THE HELL?" You screamed after him, tears rolling down your face, "MAYBANK!"
~<>~<>~<>~<>~
You were pissed the fuck off.
The first day after your fight you hadn't seen JJ, you cried for a couple hours, indulging in your favorite ice cream watching a sad rom-com, really getting in your feels.
Kie texted you to ask you what was up, the pogues had gone fishing that day but you never showed, to angry and sad to show your face to the world.
'Ask the blond kid,' was all you responded. you watched as her three typing bubbles flashed beneath your text.
'shit head's not here either,' she responded. 'wtf is going on,'
'fight. he called me a kook.'
'oh shit,' was all she said.
~<>~<>~<>~<>~
A few days later you walked around the chateau and dug through John B's fridge, you were fully aware of JJ's presence on the couch but still continued to ignore him. It was closing in on a week since you had last uttered a word to him.
Grabbing a chilled beer you walked past JJ and to the front door.
"Y/n," he said, voice cracking.
It wasn't the first time JJ had tried to talk to you this week and once again you ignored him. You slipped your shoes on and walked out onto the porch, slamming the door behind you. You flinched at how harsh it was but brushed the feeling away as you took a sip of your drink.
You sat at the edge of JJ's hot tub, the disco lights twinkled in the water, and the beer started to make you feel nauseous. You set it down and let out a shaky breath, blinking away tears that made the colorful lights spur in all different directions.
'Oh stop it Y/n' you told yourself, you would not cry anymore over this boy, if he didn't want to date a 'kook' that was his problem.
~<>~<>~<>~<>~
A long time must have passed, you had slid down fully into the hot tub finishing off your drink and basking in your own thoughts. The sun had set and the tides changed across the water.
"Go!" You heard someone on the deck grunt, you looked up to see John B pushing JJ out the door towards you locking him outside. JJ made his way down the stairs awkwardly and stood at the edge of the hot tub across from you, not getting in like he was looking for your permission.
"What do you want Maybank?" you asked quietly.
"I-uh," he sniffled and you focused closer in the dim light to see tears streaming down his face. "I made you a bracelet,"
He mumbled in the softest voice that made your heart clench and reached out to hand it to you. You looked at it closely, intricate little hearts knotted into the design, made with your favorite colors. And of course, the sea blue strings that you had told him reminded you of his eyes countless times. You didn't know what to say. Until you heard the soft sobbing coming from his lips, he thought you didn't like it.
"No, JJ..." you cooed, wrapping the bracelet around your wrist and tieing it in a crisp knot. You slid yourself through the water and stood in front of him taking in his state. He looked at you with pleading eyes and you wrapped your arms around him. He collapsed into you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your shoulder. You felt butterflies in your stomach at his touch and lifted a hand to stroke his hair. God you loved this boy so much.
"I-i'm sorry," he cried, "I called you a kook, I'm such a dick, It's all my fault..."
"No, Jayj-" you whispered.
"Yes,"
"No, I am in the wrong too, shouldn't have ignored you like that," you whispered.
"But I called you a kook," he said again.
"And then I was acting like one, it was wrong,"
You stood there in silence hugging each other, you you feel his breathing slow and he recovered to look up at you.
"Please forgive me," he said.
"Always, as long as you forgive me," he nodded frantically at you causing you to giggle.
"Thank god that's over," you heard Pope say in the distance.
"Yeah, pass me one of those?" Kie said, taking a beer out of the cooler, the rest of the pogues walking toward the hot tub.
You all settle down in the warm water, JJ snuggling into your side, looking at your bracelet sweetly for the rest of the night. You kissed the top of his head, knowing what ever happed in the future you could always get through it with him.
~<>~<>~<>~<>~
Tag list: @sarahskywalker-amadala @sunasro @idli-dosa @aslanvez @somerandos-world @vivian-555 @loverofdrewstarkey @totallynotkaibiased @jjmaybankisbae @fishingirl12 @antagonize-me-motherfucker @princessbl0ss0m @pank0w @callsigndiamond @brynley-a-xoxo @plk-18 @fallingwallsh @hemogloban @valentineshiftz @taintedxkisses
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Vestiges of the Past // S. Riley x f!reader
a/n: probably the last thing I post for a bit before I scuttle off into LSAT mode once more. enjoy. I just really wanted to see a fic where Simon's girl is just as uhhhh murderous as he is. And so I wrote it.
warnings: reader is military, canon-typical descriptions of violence, Simon remembers what Roba did to him, SMUT 18+ ONLY, rough sex, under-discussed kink but it's all consensual, degrading language, biting, clawing, spitting, fucknasty baybee
The door to the dive bar creaked open as it scraped along the floor thanks to the dented hinges from one bar fight too many. Your boots scuffed along the wooden floor as you approached the woman seated at a small table with two beers in front of her. Pulling off your gloves, you stuffed them in the pocket of your hoodie and offered her a perfunctory nod.
“Laswell,” you greeted.
“Nice to see you again.” She motioned for you to sit and nudged the second beer in your direction. You took a seat and popped the cap off using the edge of the table before sitting back against the chair.
“What’s going on?” Short and to the point, she noted. Much like the masked man that typically shadowed you. Laswell had worked with Simon more than you, but she heard good things from John. So when this came across her desk, she knew she could trust you.
The blond pushed the file across the table and you stopped it with a single finger, brow raised in interest. You flipped it open and your brows furrowed as you read the information.
“I don’t understand,” you said as you lifted the papers and took in the photo of the target.
“Enrique Giraldo-Hernandez, Roba’s second-in-command,” Laswell explained. “After Roba’s death, Hernandez laid low and slowly built up the organization again until they popped back up on our radar.”
Your shoulders stiffened and you glanced up at the agent. “And why are you showing this to me?”
“In three days, 141 will be given the orders to capture him, alive, and to bring him back to American soil for trial.” Laswell pushed another manila folder towards you and watched your face carefully as you opened it. Your lips pursed, jaw tightened, and eyes darted all over the page as you took in the photos before you. One of your fingers moved to trace over the lines of the battered face in the image and you blanched at the sight of what Roba did to him.
You had seen Simon’s scars, of course. It had taken him time to take his mask off in front of you, but when he did, you steeled yourself so you didn’t flinch at the sight of the Glasgow smile and the scars that etched deep in the skin of his face and neck. You had merely pressed your forehead against his, hand stroking over the hair that curled at the nape of his neck, and stood in silence until he could breathe normally.
Seeing the images of Simon Riley’s broken body stretched out on a hospital bed after escaping that coffin made your blood boil. He had whispered some of his memories into the quiet of the night. You had traced the scars on his body too many times to count. Their ridges were a map you learned by touch alone.
“Why are you telling me this now?” Your voice was tight and laced with barely concealed rage. Was she taunting you?
“Because that gives you a three day head start.”
You left that night with a note written to Price and Simon explaining that MI6 needed your help with gathering intel.
People treated you as an outlier in the task force. The others served in the SAS while you were recruited from SFSG, a wizard at reconnaissance and intelligence. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz were the threats that people looked out for while you were just their errand girl. Simon relished in this realization as they suited up three days later to hunt down an organization that he thought was a ghost.
He remembered the first time he saw you.
Special forces recruits had gone through the first few stages of selection, whittling down the numbers to just about fifty individuals who hadn’t even gone through SERE yet. Simon was called to watch these next few rounds to ensure that the weak were culled. He had been on break for two weeks when he became twitchy so when Price offered this opportunity, he jumped at the chance.
The doors to the sparring gym were propped open, letting wind drift into the enclosed space. He heard the typical thud of bodies hitting the mat and a grunted exhale. No one was scheduled to be in here for the day and he gathered himself to yell at whatever birdbrained recruits thought they would get extra training outside of their allotted time.
He paused at the doorway and quickly realized that they weren't recruits. One of them was one of the civilian secretaries that worked on base, Beatrice, and the other was…you.
“Nice,” you said in a gentle voice. “That was a good control of your fall there. It gives you more leverage.”
You stood from the mat and offered your hand to Bea and helped her up, a grin on your face. “And you said you couldn’t take me down.”
“You’re going easy on me,” the other woman huffed. You huffed out a laugh, something easy but with an underlying sharpness. You easily knocked Bea to the ground and shrugged, offering her hand once more.
“I am.” Your inquisitive gaze glanced at the shadow looming in the doorway. “But tomorrow, I won’t go easy on you. This weekend is your chance to learn to defend yourself. Tomorrow, you’re going to be sore and tired and cranky as all hell, but you’re going to show up and you’re not going to give up until you can pin me. Why?”
Your focus returned to the woman before her. “When he comes for you, and he will, he won’t go easy on you either. So, I want you to kill them. Because it’s either you or them and I refuse to let it be you.”
Price explained to him later that you were a second lieutenant that offered to train Beatrice while she worked with the police to get a restraining order on her ex-husband. Simon requested a copy of your file from one of the women in the records office and every single woman in that room regarded him suspiciously as she gathered the files. You were a beloved figure for them, he learned. As one of the few women on base, you were fiercely protective of them, especially since they tended to be contracted positions rather than actual soldiers. But the real reason you were on the base wasn’t to help teach self-defense. No, he learned that one quickly too.
When he settled into a meeting to go over the SERE portion of training, the Ghost found himself seated across from you.
It was easy to underestimate you.
He never did.
When Task Force 141 approached the gates of Hernandez’s compound, they found the metal loosely swinging back and forth with the wind. Price led the charge into the compound, but he paused at the sight of the guards already dead on the ground. The land was cratered from grenades and gore splattered the earth. Silence greeted them as Gaz pushed open the door that was already shoved inwards. Bodies littered the long hallway, blood mixing in with the rich red velvet carpet that lined the ground. Soap stepped over a still twitching corpse to check to the right as Gaz took the left.
Simon paused in the doorway as he took in this place that housed the ghost of a man who once existed years ago, still pacing the cells in the basement.
“Someone got here before us,” Price told Laswell over the comms. The CIA agent hummed out a noncommittal sound as they moved upstairs. Simon’s skin itched under the mask. His hand trembled just slightly. The walls…he remembered these pale, yellow walls. He remembered the way they would bleed into one another as he was dragged from room to room so Roba could taunt him with the sunlight before he was forced back into his cell.
The stairs led to the office. The same office where he had a few teeth removed. His tongue slicked against the replacements that lined his jaw now. His mind ran on autopilot and his feet took him step by step by step closer to that room. That room where they played the screams of his teammates for hours at a time in the hopes that it would break him.
Price counted down on his fingers before forcing the office door open. They spilled into the room, rifles raised and fingers poised, but they found the culprit of the massacre that consumed the house. A blade hung loosely from your hands and you turned to face your lover. Fresh blood stained your face like a mask. Hernandez’s neck was gashed open and an ugly scar was carved on either side of his lips.
“It’s over,” you said. Your attention was directed on Simon. His hands stopped shaking. “It’s over.”
“The lieutenant was sent to retrieve more information regarding the compound before we sent the rest of the task force in,” Laswell explained. “But when the mission went south, she was forced to take direct action.”
“She defied orders to bring him in alive,” the officer spat. You studied the small water stain on the wooden table before you and drowned out the suits arguing around you. Laswell assured you that she had your back, but you couldn’t give less of a shit. You didn’t care what happened to you.
Roba’s organization was completely decimated. No one would be slithering out from under a rock to take over. Even if they did, you would hunt them down. No one could escape you.
“She did what she had to do to stay alive. In one hundred years, when this information is made public, what would you rather the people of England see? That you discharged a medaled officer because she defied an order simply so she could live? Or that you were more concerned that you weren’t able to question a drug lord?”
A scoff and then the scrape of a chair scooting backwards brought you back to focus. The suits stalked out of the room muttering to themselves, but Laswell was pleased with the result. You would be suspended from the field for a month for going rogue and would have to pass your recertification exams, but you were still a lieutenant for the 141.
“Nice work,” she said as you two walked down the hall towards your office.
“Why did you do it?” you finally asked the question you had wanted to voice the moment she showed you those photos. The blonde shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket and let a sad smile cross her face.
“I know what it’s like to wake up hearing the screams of the person you love.” With that, she patted your shoulder and headed in the direction of Price’s office so she could tell him the good news. The captain was still seething at your disobedience and deceit, but Gaz assured you that he was more upset at the fact you could have died going off on your own like that.
You nudged the door to your office open and felt the hair on the back of your neck prickle. Before you could reach for your sidearm, a hand curled around your throat and threw you back against the wall. You clawed at the muscled wrist that kept you pinned and went for a well-aimed kick, but he merely avoided it with a side step.
“You know what they would have done if they captured you?” Simon snarled into your ear. His grip relaxed minutely against your skin, allowing air to slip back into your lungs, but his large thigh pinned your hips against the wall to stop your squirming.
“They didn’t,” you whispered. His hand moved up to grab your jaw and squeeze, forcing your eyes to meet his. The rough fabric of his mask brushed against your temple as he leaned in closer.
“They would have broken you. Brainwashed you. I wouldn’t have been able to save you. They would have killed you after ripping apart every last part of your mind.”
“You would have done the same fucking thing,” you snarled. Your words were muffled from the way he held your face, but you wouldn’t let his stupid fucking attitude shut you up.
“It’s different.”
“How? How is it so different? Because I’m not the Ghost? Because I’m not as big as you? Bec-”
He yanked you forward, your chest colliding with his, and released your jaw to slide his hand down the length of your arm until his gloved fingers slid against yours with a reverence seen only in a church.
“It’s different,” he reiterated. Indignation flared in your chest and you wrestled against his larger body but he slid his jean clad thigh between your legs, stopping your movement when it pressed just right against your cunt.
“Take the mask off,” you breathed. Your chest heaved with deep breaths, forcing yourself impossibly closer. He reached up and slid the fabric up, revealing the scars that Roba and his men inflicted all those years ago. Scars that you didn’t give two shits about. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and then he squeezed your cheeks, forcing your lips to part, and spat directly onto your tongue.
You slicked your tongue across your teeth, mingling his spit with yours and then, without warning, you leaned up and bit down on his jaw. His sharp intake of breath sent a thrill of pleasure down your spine. Simon steadied you with his hand on your waist. His fingers curled against the plush skin of your ass and you craved the feel of him against your skin.
“I did it,” you said softly once you pulled away, revealing the slight imprint of your teeth at the hinge of his jaw. “Because the only mark I want to see on you is one I give you.”
His dark eyes studied your face and traced over every wrinkle, line, and blemish. The sincerity in your gaze. The way your pupils expanded.
His nimble fingers yanked the zipper of your pants down and you got the hint, quickly kicking them off along with your boots. He captured your lips in a searing kiss as you worked your hands under the soft cotton of his shirt and ran your fingers along the ridges of his abs. You only broke apart so you could yank his shirt over his head with yours following. He grabbed a handful of your ass and you groaned against his mouth as he kneaded the soft flesh and dragged you impossibly closer. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he easily took your weight. Simon carried you over to your desk and in one sweep of his hand, everything was scattered onto the ground.
Including your monitor.
“You get to explain that one,” you said dryly. His only response was to lay you back against the wood and grind his still-clothed cock against your panties. A hitched gasp escaped you and he bent down, pressing his lips against the swell of your breasts as his hand reached behind you to unclasp your bra. Simon bit down on the top of your right breast and sucked, leaving a dark mark of his own. Your hands flew to his shoulders and you dug your nails into his skin. He grunted as you dragged your hands down, but he continued lining your skin with hickies.
When Simon finally stopped his assault on your tits and stood up straight, you took in the sight of the scarred Adonis before you. He was so beautiful, even if he didn’t believe it. Your fingers traced the scars that adorned his chest and he captured your hand in his, raising it to his lips and placing a delicate kiss against your wrist. Your eyes fluttered shut at the intimate action, as if seeing it would ruin the moment.
“It’s different,” he explained as he ground his bulge against you. “Because you’re mine. And I won’t ever let them take what’s mine from me again.”
Smooth plastic slid over your wrist and your eyes snapped open just in time to see him secure zip tie handcuffs around one of your wrists. He snatched the other before you could fight him and bound your hands together, leaving you spread out on your desk in only your underwear.
“And clearly you need to learn that lesson,” he rasped. The cold metal of his pocket knife slid against your ribs and you felt the fabric of your underwear give before he slit the straps of your bra and yanked it off. You squirmed under his gaze, suddenly self-conscious about being so exposed like this. Did he lock the door? What if someone came in?
Simon palmed himself through his jeans before he undid his belt buckle and slid it out of its loops. He considered it for a moment and then folded it up and laid it on the desk next to you. A whine escaped you and you pressed your thighs together at the thought of him using it. He chuckled, one hand stroking your cheek and the other pushing his jeans and boxers down.
“Don’t worry, love. I always treat my things well.”
The scent of him invaded your senses as he shoved his mask between your parted lips, forcing you to taste the sweat and smoke that clung to the fabric. He grabbed your ankles and settled himself between your legs, hooking each of your legs around his waist. Simon grasped his thick, solid cock and rubbed it against your cunt. Fuck, normally he ate you out or fingered you open before he did this. There was no way you would be able to fit hi-
Your eyes rolled back as he slid into you, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he bottomed out in one stroke. A muffled scream escaped you as his cock speared you open, but you were thrown more by the sudden pleasure than any pain. Had he fucked you so much that you were carved out for him?
“Feel that?” His breath washed over your face as he pressed his weight against you, grinding himself deeper than you thought he could possibly go. “You’re made to fit me.”
You tried to move your bound hands down to touch your clit but he smacked your cheek and yanked your hands above your head. Simon pressed his palm against your cheek as leverage while he pulled out of your aching cunt and then bullied himself back in. You let out a desperate whimper and he clicked his tongue.
“No complaints,” he chastised. “You wanted this, right? That’s why you’re so insubordinate. So irritating. So fucking stupid. But you’re my stupid girl, ain’t that right?”
Your head swam from pleasure and tears dripped down your cheeks as he began to rail you. Holy shit, the two of you had done kinky stuff but this was another level. Your pussy clenched around him and he chuckled low in his throat.
“You like that, huh? Being my little cocksleeve. Being my pocket pussy. Took on a whole fucking cartel but at the end of the day, you’re just a mindless little slut.”
A whine escaped you and you tried to babble something through the soaked fabric of his mask, but you were just consumed by Simon. You should be ashamed right now, being reduced to this mewling, quivering little fleshlight. But your skin burned with want as he grabbed your hips and just started pounding into you. Anyone walking by could hear what was going on and know. You strained against the zip ties to no avail. None of your strength or smarts were on your side right now.
“If they caught you, they’d break this pretty little mind of mine,” Simon snarled. He ripped his mask out of your mouth and forced three fingers into your drooling mouth. Once sufficiently coated, he silenced you with the gag once again and reached down to rub harshly at your clit.
“You understand me, woman? You’re. Mine.” Each word was punctuated with a harsh thrust and a slap to your thigh. Pleasure shot through you at each strike and you clenched around him. He chuckled and pulled out of you before grabbing your hips and easily flipping you onto your stomach. Simon wrapped his hand around your throat and yanked you back so your back met his chest.
And then he just started pounding into you again.
Drool pooled at the corners of your lips and spilled over the edges of the makeshift gag. You slumped against his hold and accepted your fate as his little cockwhore. Because holy shit, he was hitting that little spot in your cunt that made your vision blur and your mind turn to mush. His balls slapped against your clit as he rammed into you and you could feel yourself starting to fall apart at the seams.
“Should keep you like this forever,” he breathed against the soft skin of your neck as he mercilessly fucked you. “Naked and chained to my desk so I can use you anytime I want.” His fingers came down to rub circles against your clit and you choked out a gasp. His other hand curled around your throat and he added just enough pressure to make your lungs burn and that tidal wave of pleasure finally crashed over you.
The second he felt your cunt pulse around him, Simon buried his cock as deep as he could and spilled into you. He bent down and captured the skin of your shoulder in his teeth, leaving an imprint behind but just shy of drawing blood. You were too fucked out to think of the pain. Your hands twitched uselessly in front of you as he rubbed you through the aftershocks of your orgasm and then kept going until you were whining from the overstimulation and pulling away from him the best you could. He stopped his torture on your sensitive nub, but his hands continued roaming along your body.
What a fucking sight you must be. Fucked hard, spread out on your desk with your tits pressed against the rough wood, sweaty, cum-filled, and crying from the pleasure. The mental image made you clench again and the wraith behind you let out a grunt. You waited for him to start fucking himself dry into your sensitive little cunt, but instead he inhaled deeply and stilled your squirming. His hand stroked down the length of your spine and as he slid his cock out of your folds, he placed a delicate kiss to the base of your spine. You pushed his mask out of your mouth and smacked your lips in an attempt to wet your mouth.
“Done being mad at me?” you asked, voice rough from your muffled screams. His lips met a scar that marred your shoulder and he nestled his face against your neck. He nipped at your earlobe and then soothed the sting with his tongue before nosing against the bite mark he left on your shoulder.
“Was never mad at you, love.” The snick of his pocket knife opening was your cue to loosen your hands so he could cut the zip ties off with less risk of hurting you. His thumbs ran over the depressions they had made into your wrists and he brought your hands up to worship your wrists, your palms, your fingers with delicate kisses. You started to sit up and he immediately moved to steady you and pull your body against his chest. Tilting your chin up, you met his gaze and found nothing but devotion present in those dark eyes.
“If you ever.” His hand smacked against your ass and you jolted but he was already kneading the flesh and soothing the sting. “Up and leave to go on a suicide mission again, I will find you, drag you back here, and kill you myself.”
“I had to, Si,” you murmured, your forehead pressing against his bicep. One of your hands traced the nasty scar below his ribs from that fucking hook Roba had in the cells.
“I know. Doesn’t mean I like it.” His lips met your temple. “I’d do the same.”
“You have,” you reminded him. He huffed out a laugh and shook his head.
“‘S not a joke, love.”
“Never was, Si.”
He curled his massive body around you and tucked your head into the crook of his neck. In a moment, the two of you would get dressed and walk back to his room on base. You would wash each other in the tiny shower with the lukewarm water and you would discuss the Man City score and if England had a chance to get the cup and what color curtains you would put in the kitchen.
But right now, you savored the puff of every breath he exhaled against your skin. It was a reminder that, despite Roba’s best attempts, despite his father’s cruelty, Simon Riley was still here, living and breathing, and you would worship him for every moment you had. He extracted himself from the cocoon of safety he had encased you in and bent down to rifle through his jeans for something. A chill swept across your skin and he noticed instantly, his eyes darting around the room for anything to cover you with. You had a throw blanket tossed in the corner of your office for when it got cold and he retrieved it. As Simon wrapped the soft fabric around you, one of his hands stroked along the calluses of the fingers on your left hand and you felt the weight of his devotion settle across your skin.
“Yes,” you breathed into the silence of the night. Simon let his lips press and linger against your forehead as you looked at the simple ring that now adorned your skin.
You took on the worst parts of him without fear. You faced down what tried to destroy him and, in turn, destroyed it. The Ghost didn’t believe in attachments.
Simon Riley would marry you tomorrow if he could.
#simon riley fic#simon riley x reader#simon riley imagine#ghost x reader#ghost imagine#cod imagine#cod x reader
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Internal Affairs #1: The Rookie
By the third week, Lydia’s revulsion was turning into arousal. By the third month, she struggled to remember the assignment at all.
I’m a cop, she reminded herself before rolling her hips, sliding down the john’s cock until it was pressed deep up inside her pussy. A soft moan staggered from Lydia’s lips. Again, I am a cop. Hips roll, cock deep, soft moan. I am a cop. Repeat until the john was satisfied.
It was all part of establishing her cover. Nobody would believe Lydia’s work if she didn’t do the work. Why couldn’t she enjoy it too?
I am a cop.
But she wasn’t a cop. Not really. It had once been Lydia’s dream. When she was eleven, two officers visited her class. The man looked like any other cop on the eleven o’clock news: wide shoulders, short cropped hair, carrying all that “fuck your civil rights” privilege with pride. Most of the boys stared at the gun on his hip, waiting for the little shit brave enough to ask, “Have you killed anybody?”
But it was the female cop that Lydia couldn’t take her eyes off of. She respected the children, spoke to them like people. Not like her partner who addressed the class like he was facing a courtroom. She didn’t look like any woman cop that Lydia had ever seen either. She was tall, and a statuesque beauty made her all the more intimidating. The boys only saw the man and the gun, but Lydia saw the looks between the two. How the man would turn to his partner before giving an answer. He only did it a couple of times, but it was enough for Lydia to know who was really incharge. No one had told her a woman could have that kind of power.
But Lydia’s dream of carrying a badge didn’t make it past high school. She ultimately chose a criminal justice degree at Carpenter State University over the police academy. She never expected that it was less of a path to a future, and more of a strange, meandering way back to her dream.
I am a
“...mindless whore,” the john said as she rode him.
Lydia stared down into his eyes. His face twisted between embarrassing expressions as he fought back the inevitable orgasm. The way he grunted his words, it surprised Lydia that the john could even try to talk dirty to her, most of his mental bandwidth allocated to holding out as long as he could. Lydia wasn’t cheap and she only took one shot for each service rendered. Every John wanted it to count.
“Is that how you like it?” Lydia playfully responded. “Young, dumb, blonde bimbos without a thought in their heads?”
The john grunted something back that a generous listener might say sounded like, “Yeah.”
“I am a mindless whore,” Lydia bit her lip. “My mind is just a wet hole aching to be filled by its Master’s cock.”
“Fuck,” the John gasped. “Say it again.”
“I am a mindless whore.”
“Again,” he pleaded.
“I am a mindless whore!”
“Again!”
I am a mindless whore.
Lydia had been applying to law schools when her professor approached her with the opportunity.
Lydia,
I was hoping you could set some time aside in your calendar to meet with a friend of mine from RPD. I think you’ll find it educational. If you’re interested, shoot me over some dates and I’ll set up the meet.
Best,
Dr. Bloom
Lydia met with the friend from RPD the next week in Dr. Bloom’s office. Lieutenant Barbara Keyes sat across from her at Dr. Bloom’s desk. Dr. Bloom briefly introduced Barbara then excused himself to let the two of them talk. Barbara wanted the meeting to feel informal. “Call me Barbara,” she quickly said when Lydia referred to her by her title. But the location betrayed the intention. Not a lot of people knew that Lieutenant Keyes was there.
Lydia did her best Sam Spade, studying the woman across the desk. Mid-thirties to early forties, no ring on her finger. More likely a divorcee than a spinster. A married to the job kind of cop, she figured. But most important was the confidence–Lydia realized as she watched Barbara speak that she carried herself with the same confidence that had first caught her eye all those years ago in her sixth grade glass.
They chatted for a moment about Lydia’s education, Barbara’s background, and quickly found a comfortable place where they were just talking like old friends until Barbara said, “So Charlie tells me you’re his best student."
“Best,” Lydia laughed. “I don’t know about best–”
“I do,” Barbara cut her off. “I’ve known Charlie a long time and I trust his judgment.”
Lydia sighed, considering her next move, then decided that it was best to just cut through all the bullshit. “So is this a job interview?” she asked.
Barbara sat straight, unmoved by Lydia’s candor. “Lydia, I work in IAD. Do you know what that is?”
“Internal Affairs,” Lydia blinked.
“Unfortunately, I find myself in the position of trusting absolutely no one in the Romero Police Department, which means when it comes to recruits I need to look in unorthodox places.”
“Like Carpenter State,” Lydia said.
“That’s correct.” Barbara nodded. “Now, on top of my position in IAD, I’m also the deputy director of the RPD sex work task force. Since the task force formed two years ago, we’ve managed to clean up much of the areas around Carpenter State, which is a point of emphasis for the commissioner. That being said, River City remains frustratingly impenetrable.”
“I don’t understand,” Lydia said. “So is this a job interview…to go undercover?”
“I need young, female cops,” Barbara said. “But more specifically, I need young, female cops who don’t look like cops.”
Barbara was right. It was unorthodox, even downright unethical. But it was hard for Lydia not to admire the risk she was taking. Barbara Keyes was the kind of woman who valued education over brute force, that’s why she’d turned to Carpenter State for new recruits. And Lydia understood her reasoning too–her dream of becoming a cop came to an abrupt end in high school after a highly public, sweeping police corruption case in Romero upended the department. It had shaken Lydia’s faith in justice, but she couldn’t totally let those values go. If anyone else had come to her with this offer, asked her to play the role of a prostitute as an inexperienced, secret cop? She wouldn’t have just turned them down. She would have blown the fucking whistle. But Barbara was different. Lydia couldn’t stop seeing that cop from sixth grade. For some reason she wanted to do what Barbara asked of her. She had no choice but to accept.
I am a mindless whore.
Lydia always came with the john. That was what made her one of the most popular and expensive whores in River City. She’d been trained that way. She’d been trained that way because it made her a good cop. A good whore was a good cop. But she always seemed to forget about that when she was on top of them, bracing herself against the headboard as her body rocked from the most powerful orgasm she’d ever experienced. It was always better when she was with a john.
They’d leave the money on the small table by the door and before they exited, Lydia would always offer something to keep them thinking about her.
“Your cock felt so good,” she said, dreamy eyes selling the illusion that this fuck was anything more than a transaction. “Next time I’d even let you cum inside my pussy.”
“You do that?” the john smiled.
“Well,” Lydia pondered as if she wasn’t reading a script. “I’d have to charge an extra five grand. Secret menu, you know? High premium for the risky stuff. But it’s worth it for my favorite.”
The john melted as she batted her eyelashes. They never had that kind of money, but goddamn they would fuck anyone over for that opportunity.
Lydia worked tirelessly through the night. Fucking, sucking, even occasionally offering her shoulder to cry on. She didn’t stop until she saw the pale blue light of the morning sky through the hotel room’s yellowing curtains. She took a quick shower, collected the evening’s take into a fat envelope, then flipped through her phone’s camera roll.
The johns blurred together until they became one universal face. The only way she remembered them was by the pictures. She insisted on snapping a photo of every john’s ID before taking them to the hotel. “For security,” she would innocently say.
Nobody had been busted by Lydia yet, so why should they suspect that it was anything more than a safety precaution? The johns liked Lydia and they wanted her to feel safe. But truthfully the IDs were part of the operation, one of the few things that actually made her feel like she was a cop. Barbara had been frustratingly vague on the details of her job, but Lydia knew that she was looking for somebody. Many of the johns were cops, and given Barbara’s role at IAD, Lydia assumed that she was trying to catch one of her own. But who?
She never recognized the faces. And try as hard as she could, she couldn’t match the names to them. They were right there next to the pictures, but something made it impossible for her to think of them as anything other than, “john.” The blue-eyed john, the brown-eyed john, the john with the scar next to his lip. Lydia selected the photos from her roll, a dozen for this night, and forwarded them in an email before deleting them from her phone forever.
Why had she done that? The details of her night’s work were better off with someone who understood it. No reason to burden herself with that knowledge anymore.
Before she could finish dressing, the room's phone rang. She was reluctant to pick it up, but the mechanical sound of the old fashioned landline phone drew her toward it. Something is wrong, she thought. I shouldn’t answer this.
It rang again, and she was powerless. Lydia lifted the receiver from its cradle and pressed it to her ear.
I am a cop.
“Good morning, Lydia,” the voice on the line said.
I am a cop.
“Good morning,” she slowly replied.
I am a
“I trust the evening was productive.”
I am a
“Yes…” she breathed.
I am
“And the IDs?”
I am
“I forwarded them to your email,” she said.
I
“Good,” the voice said. “And the night’s take?”
I
“Twenty-four grand.”
I am a mindless whore.
“That’s very good, Lydia,” the voice replied. “You know where to drop it off.”
Everything Lydia believed she was evaporated at the tinny sound of the telephone’s ring. By the time she heard the voice speak, that Lydia was already gone, replaced with the mindless whore she’d been trained to be. And she was one of the best in River City. She couldn’t fight that truth no matter how hard she tried to lie to herself. It felt too good.
“Tell me what you are, Lydia,” the voice commanded.
“I am a mindless whore,” Lydia said without hesitation. Speaking it out loud now drove her to the edge of another orgasm.
“That’s right,” the voice said, “And that’s all you’ll ever be.”
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Tachipen (Part 6)
Part 5
Tommy x female reader
Summary: John reacts to the news of his betrothal and Y/n finally learns of his true feelings. Seeds of a rivalry are planted between the two brothers. In 1924, the jealous actions of their past come back to haunt them as the vendetta begins.
Author’s Note: Tommy meets y/n in 1919 and the story goes thru present time which is the year of the vendetta, 1925. I'm borrowing some events from canon S3 & S4 with a few changes and condensed storyline.
Warnings: language, violence, arranged marriage, mention of arson, kidnapping
1919
"You've done what?" John asked, blue eyes narrowing in the dim light of the parlor. Tommy only nodded in confirmation and John looked away in disbelief. "Christ, Tommy!" he exclaimed.
"It's the only way forward, John. You can end this war," Tommy stated, eyes darting to John's clenched fists. The anger beneath the surface was threatening to spill over as it always did when he was being told what to do. His younger brother abhorred his sense of authority.
"A war you fucking started when you brought Y/n here!" John shouted, the toothpick in his mouth wobbling precariously. Then he stopped short, staring ahead as he remembered your offer to talk to your aunt. "Is this why she took you to see Zilpha?" he asked, voice now eerily calm.
Tommy swallowed thickly, recognizing a look of hurt wash over his brother's face. It might have been a shift of smoke from the fireplace, but he swore he saw John's eyes turn glossy as he awaited an answer. "Tommy?" John insisted.
Tommy let out a frustrated sigh in response. "You didn’t ask for Y/n to come live with you. What's the difference if it’s another girl now?” he reasoned.
John clenched his jaw as he turned his gaze toward his brother. "You have no idea what I want because you never ask. Did you ever think I might care for Y/n?"
"So much you were fucking Lizzie last week?" Tommy retorted.
John lunged toward Tommy and Tommy grabbed him by the shirt front, slamming him against the wall.
On the other side, you jumped at the sound of the commotion, one hand coming to rest over your heart. The voices of the two warring brothers carried through the thin walls loud enough for you to hear in the kitchen and you stopped to listen despite your better judgment.
"What the fuck are you doing, eh? Do you love Y/n?" Tommy asked, searching his brother’s face for the truth as John pushed against him.
John gulped, fight leaving his body under Tommy's firm grasp. "I've loved her since she arrived, but Pol said to let her alone," he confessed, hanging his head when Tommy’s hand fell away from his throat.
Tommy stepped back, tugging his shirt sleeves back into place as John staggered along the wall to stay upright. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tommy sighed with exhaustion, knowing there could be no other outcome once a pact had been made.
He opened his eyes to find John leaning over the sofa, plucking one of your discarded hair ribbons from the cushion and clutching it in his hands so tightly his knuckles began turning white. He stared at Tommy with the desperation of a man who still held out hope, despite already knowing the verdict.
“Doesn’t matter now, it’s done. The Lees will hold us to it or there will be bloodshed,” Tommy warned as he approached his brother cautiously.
"It's what the Lees want or you, Tommy?" John asked, as he caught his brother gazing at your black, velvet ribbon.
"It's what Y/n wants. She made the deal with Zilpha, not me," he confessed in a low voice.
"She did?" John asked with a loud sniff, hand brushing his nose harshly as he tried to keep emotion at bay.
Tommy confirmed with a nod.
John pitched forward, allowing his head to hang low and breathed deeply, the thought of your rejection stinging far worse than Tommy's betrayal ever could. After a few moments, he stood to his full height and addressing his older brother in the same flat tone he used during the war, he repeated back the orders given to him like a good soldier. "I'll marry Esme Lee."
"Good," Tommy agreed.
You held your breath as you listened to John leave the house, the door crashing against the frame forcefully as he went. A single tear slid down your cheek as you whispered, "I'm sorry, John. I love you too."
——————————————
On the morning of John’s wedding, you helped the children dress and you took special care with Katie, braiding her hair and intertwining wildflowers you’d picked together as an added adornment.
“All finished,” you proclaimed, attempting an encouraging smile as you turned her to face you. There hadn’t been many words exchanged, a tinge of sadness around the edges of the day where happiness ought to have been.
As you held her small shoulders, you felt an almost imperceptible shake, then you noticed her lashes dampen with tears threatening to overspill her deep blue eyes.
“Why do you have to go?” she questioned, a few tears escaping as she furrowed her brow in a mixture of confusion and anger as if she might force you to stay by her will power alone.
“It’s time,” you answered simply, reaching up to dry her damp cheeks gently with your fingertips.
“Because you and dad have been fighting?” she asked, looking up at you with sorrowful eyes.
"Oh, Katie...," you exclaimed, inhaling sharply, knowing she had probably overheard more than she should have in recent days as you and John sniped at one another under the stress of making new arrangements and the dreadful ache of emotion left unspoken.
“Your father is remarrying so I have to go live with Aunt Polly and help your Uncle Tommy in the betting shop,” you began, but you knew she was a clever girl who would need a bit more than that. “But you’re right, we haven't been getting on as well as we should. Things will be better with your new mum. You'll be happy, you'll see,” you promised her, reaching out to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. As an afterthought you added quietly, “I hope your dad will too.”
She threw her arms around you, hugging you tightly as though she’d never let go and you patted her back comfortingly. “I’ll be mad at him if you want me to,” she offered between sniffles, voice muffled by the thick material of your dress.
You laughed silently at her act of solidarity before answering, “I’m not mad anymore, just a bit sad like you, but I’ll be alright. Come on, we have to go or we’ll miss the ceremony.”
——————————-
The deafening crack of fireworks exploding overhead woke Henry who had been peacefully sleeping in your arms since the dancing began. Blinking in confusion and rubbing his eyes with chubby fists, the toddler immediately burst into sobs. You tried to quiet him with gentle rocking and his favorite lullaby, but nothing seemed to help.
No one paid much attention as the party was well under way and most everyone was too drunk to care about a crying babe. You scanned the crowd for Polly, hoping she would be ready to leave, but you couldn’t find her as you dodged whirling skirts and men shooting celebratory gunfire up to the sky.
Pressing your hands to Henry's ears, you sought peace and quiet away from everyone just as a soft voice called out to you. “Would you like me to take him?” You turned to find John’s new bride with her arms outstretched toward you and you nodded hesitantly. Feeling as though you couldn’t deny her, you passed the child to his new stepmother and much to your astonishment, he stopped crying long enough to capture her veil between his fingers, rubbing it against his cheek as she giggled.
“Looks like John, don’t he?” she remarked, stroking Henry’s blonde curls. You nodded again, unsure what you should say to her. Did she know who you were? It seemed foolish to explain now if she didn’t.
Before you could say anything more, Tommy strode toward you from the dark shadows between vardos, eyes fixed on you determinedly as though he’d been searching you out for some time. “Y/n, may I have a word?” he asked.
Seeing Henry babbling away happily to Esme, you crossed to join Tommy by a large bonfire.
“Enjoying the festivities?” he asked, fishing his cigarettes from his pocket.
“I was thinking of leaving actually,” you said, pulling your arms into your body as you realized how chilly the night air had become.
Noticing your shivering form, Tommy removed his jacket and placed it around your shoulders. As he came close, you breathed in the scent of tobacco and whisky, so like John, but with a tinge of something earthier as though he’d just come from the pasture. It was oddly comforting and you focused on the scent to calm yourself, feeling a rush of emotion return to you as you watched John approach his new bride and place his arm around her with Henry squealing in delight between them.
“I know why you proposed that particular strategy with your aunt,” Tommy said, interrupting your thoughts. He looked down at his cigarette before daring to find your eyes in the glow of the firelight.
You swallowed harshly thinking about where your fit of temper had landed you, watching the man you loved speak his vows to someone else. “Maybe it wasn’t the right thing,” you mused, your whispered regret carried away on the wind to Tommy’s ears like the closely guarded secret it was.
He shook his head softly, “No, this was meant to be.”
Your turned to look at Tommy with trembling lower lip, but no words would come out.
He stepped closer to you, rubbing his large palms up and down your arms soothingly. “Hey, look at me,” he instructed and your heart skipped a beat as you found the courage to look into the hypnotizing blue of his eyes, like a tide drawing you inward. “You did what was best for the family. I know you were angry at the time, but what you did took courage and sacrifice. I won’t forget that.”
“And John? Will he forgive me?” you asked, blinking back tears.
“He’s gained a good wife in Esme. I’ve no doubt he’ll thank you for it in time,” Tommy said, reassuringly. It seemed as though he wanted to add something, but stopped himself and you stood together for a moment in awkward silence before he dropped his hands to his sides and shoved them back into his pockets.
You dried your eyes and shifted the coat around your shoulders as Tommy led you to his car, offering a ride home. He said he didn’t want his newest employee wandering the streets of Birmingham alone in the early morning hours, but you had to wonder. His protection over you seemed like more than a formality.
----------------
1924, The Grace Shelby Institute
"You alright?" you asked as Tommy guided you toward the room where tea and cake were being served after his speech.
"I fucking hate speeches," he muttered as you passed a group of ladies associated with his charity. "Grace was better at this sort of thing," he mused.
You nodded in understanding as he fidgeted with his tie nervously. You pressed a hand to his shoulder, stopping him before he entered the room. "Let me," you offered, shifting Charlie to your opposite hip and reaching up to straighten the silk knot to your satisfaction.
Tommy grasped your hand in his, searching your eyes for a moment before admitting, "I'm sorry about the other night. It won't happen again."
Feeling a heat rise in your cheeks, you bit your lip unsure of how to respond. His advances hadn't been unwelcome, but you wondered if it was merely the grief causing him to act.
"Don't be sorry," you said with a small shake of your head. Just then the door swung open and your eyes locked onto Linda, standing in the corner and surveying everyone with a judgmental stare. "It's just...what would your family say?" you asked, hesitantly.
Grasping your chin and turning you to look at him, Tommy stressed, "We haven't done anything wrong, eh?"
You nodded, wishing you could agree with his sentiment, but you knew no one would ever believe that. "Maybe it's too soon though," you suggested with soft eyes, hoping he would trust you in this.
Tommy studied you for a moment, unsure if you were in need of more reassurance or distance. There had always been a fine line in your relationship, your agreement with one another shifting over the years until he could no longer think of the right word to describe exactly what you were to him.
Rushing toward you with a giant smile on her face, Ada triumphantly proclaimed, "Tommy, there's a woman who wants to discuss a two hundred pound donation with you."
"Go ahead, I'll entertain Charlie," you assured him.
However, the task grew more difficult as the afternoon wore on. The child was growing more restless by the minute as ladies gathered to coo at him and pinch his cheeks adoringly, taking turns to express their condolences or offer praise for Tommy's parenting.
When it was clear that Charlie needed a nap, you excused yourself and weaved through the dense crowd in search of Finn who was supposed to drive you home. Struggling to hold an ill-tempered Charlie, you suffered his kicks and jabs as he refused to be contained within your embrace. Finally, he pushed against you with the strength of ten children, suddenly sliding down your body and hurrying off on chubby little legs before you could grasp him. He toddled away precariously in between people’s legs as you rushed after him, calling his name.
“Charlie, come back!” you cried, but he only squealed excitedly at your game of chase and ran faster. With no other family members in sight, you hurried after him on your own, wishing you'd chosen more sensible shoes.
As you rounded the corner toward the empty offices, you heard his tiny shoes squeaking against the polished floor and heard his giggles as a door opened suddenly. Perhaps he was finding a place to hide to try and continue this little game, you thought, but that particular activity would have to wait. You were determined to get him home.
“Please, Charlie!” you called a bit more softly, hoping he would peek his head out and come running back to you upon hearing your distress.
“Sound so sweet when you beg,” a low voice rumbled behind you. The imposing figure removed his fedora and you gasped when you recognized one of Angel’s men, Enzo, looking down at you in amusement.
Your heel wobbled under you as you tried to back away from him and you stumbled in your hurried attempted to regain balance. “What do you want? Did Angel send you?“ you gulped, trying and failing to conceal your fear.
Your reply only infuriated the man. He captured your arms in a painfully tight grip, pulling you into his large frame, before leaning down to hiss in your ear, “Angel’s dead, you fucking puttana. You ought to know, you started all of this.”
You felt your mouth go dry and your hands began to shake as you thought back to the night John set Angel's restaurant ablaze. There had been no peace with the Italians since, only an escalation of violence. In the wake of Grace's death you should have known the Shelbys would retaliate and now, according to the tradition of the vendetta, they would pay dearly in return. It was in this moment that you remembered Charlie and prayed he was hiding himself well as Enzo slowly dragged you toward the exit.
To your horror the empty hallway soon filled with the sounds of a screaming child and the sight of a second man holding Charlie’s wriggling body in his arms.
You thrashed wildly against Enzo to reach the boy as you pleaded, “Take me and let him go. Please, he’s just a child. Don’t hurt him!”
Unwilling to hear any more, Enzo silenced you by placing his large hand over your mouth and nose. You continued to struggle until you could no longer breathe, the room spinning around you and black spots dancing across your vision before you gave into the darkness.
---------------
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⚠︎ trigger warning implied suicide | 650 words
simon ‘ghost’ riley
- my asks are always open. i promise you, you’re not alone.
You found him at seven in the morning.
Unusually beside you in bed — for his schedule habitually began hours prior — with limp arms, one draped across his chest and the other flat on the bed. He was still warm, though his anxious heart rate seemed to have stilled, and his chest calmed, finally at rest it seemed.
Though, it wasn’t until you pressed your ear to his neck had the world crumbled right there and then.
“What the fuck.” Came naturally, the art of shock pushing over you in undignified waves. “Simon? What the fuck?” Hair was pushed behind your ears, sitting up in the bed and onto your knees, hand on his chest, nothing. “Simon.” A tone of aggravation and a frown, ear to his chin in an attempt to identify a breathing pattern, but again, nothing.
Your delayed response in picking up a phone was primal. Eyes wide, hands shaking and leaning closer once again to find any sign of life. The phone fumbled from your grip, falling to the floor with a thud that was sure to stir the kids. “Shit.” It was spoken quietly, weakly, voice strained from the pending upset.
And the next few hours were a mess.
The kids were frantically pushed from their beds, all three picture images of their father with his dimples either side of sleepy smiles.
You had run your thumb over each of them, covering blotchy red cheeks to save the oldest from questioning why. School uniform was left astrew across bedroom floors from the day prior, an image of rush frozen in time — bags half open and emptied across the room with unmade beds and hair filled brushes half off dressers.
You broke down at your mothers house.
Streams of tears spent on the step, a motherly embrace stripping you of all adulthood and curling into your mothers’ frame like an infant.
A soothing hand rubbed at your back as tears were no longer solo but shared between you. Your mother knew no one who deserved this less than her own daughter, than her grandchildren and the life they were now deprived of.
Over time it became a list of tasks to check off.
A list of grievance, organisation, funeral choices and difficult phone calls to make. 141 was the worst — bar your own children — that was one of the worst phone calls to date and probably ever you would have to make.
Price was first. You had phoned him from the garden, pacing around the cut grass with one of Simon’s cigarettes. He answered with your name firmly, his usual tone indicating he was at work.
Phone likely stuck between his shoulder and ear as he penned down information regarding current, past and future deployments. You could pretty much see it.
“Hi.” It was short, brief and quiet. Three things you were not. John audibly leant back in his chair, the creak giving way for his muscle, you imagined him putting the pen down and shifting the phone to his hand.
“Everything alright?” His brows furrowed, eyes locking to unspecific objects around his office.
You blinked lamely, tipping the cigarette before taking a short draw. The silence prodded Price to speak your name once more, his tone softening substantially and your jaw tightened in attempts to force back any upset that was threatening to fall.
“Where are you?” You asked half heartedly, vision blurring as the cigarette was lost to the grass in frustration covered despair.
There was a brief pause of quiet before Price had said anything. “Base. What’s going on?”
And you met his beat, pausing for a second or five longer, rubbing at your brow before collapsing onto the back step. “Simon.” It was a breath at best, clearing your throat before trying again. “Simon, he’s, I— I found him, and it’s not— he’s away, he’s gone.”
“He’s gone?”
“He’s fucking dead. He’s dead, John.”
no taglist for this one troops, figured i’d let people find it themselves.
it’s just a scrap but i thought i’d post it anyway
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you always have been
thinking thoughts. *ೃ༄ this is very self indulgent im not sorry <3 btw the formatting is terrible 😭 also this is 1.5k words im so proud of myself its literally the longest fic i've ever written
pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader
fandom: outerbanks
warnings: swearing, mentions of being drunk, reader kind of pushes jj away, insecure!reader, stressed out!reader, mentions of jj's trash dad, fear of abandonment, sort of a smau? science hw (yes thats a warning science hw sucks), love confession, hurt/comfort <3
jj's instagram is a mess. it alternates between pictures of random objects, pictures of himself, and pictures of our friends.
lately, all of his pictures have been pictures of him and the pogues at keggers and on the boat. without me.
the most recent one is a blurry shot of him and kie at the boneyard. his hair is dripping wet and kie is holding up a red solo cup, beer sloshing over the side. the caption reads, "my brst girl 😋 ilysn kier.carrera" its so misspelled its obvious hes drunk, even without looking at the picture.
—————
↳ comments
-> jb.wifirouter ong your so drunk. ↳ heywpope its "youre" not "your" 💀 and you're durnk too ↳ sarahcamer0n lmaooo durnk
-> kier.carrera lol ilyt jj 💀 ↳ kier.carrera wsit wring emoji ❤️
—————
i groan and shut my phone off. kie knows i like jj. she's heard me rant about him since eighth grade. its fine, though. i need to focus on school. i get up and silence my phone, putting it into a drawer at my desk before going back to the papers sprawled on my bed.
science isn't my best subject, but i need this extra credit to bring my grade up. and, no pressure at all, this stupid extra credit is due by monday, at its literally sunday night. at least its pretty easy. all i have to do is write an essay about newton's laws and how they function in the "real" world. i sigh and open my textbook to the page on the first law, inertia.
as im scribbling down the beginnings of the paragraph about f=ma, my pencil breaks. well, how fucking dandy. i get up and head to my desk to grab a sharpener, and i pass the mirror next to my door.
i cringe away, then force myself to look back. the girl staring back at me is... not kie. not sarah. she's wearing a big oversized t-shirt she stole from jj and some shorts. her nail polish is chipped and her hair is practically crying for escape from the worn scrunchie.
i tear my gaze away and grab the sharpener. the clock on my desk reads 11:11 pm. i remember something kie said about making wishes at 11:11, so i think, why not give it a try? i squeeze my eyes shut and hope my wish gets to whatever magical star angel being is listening.
after i finish my essay, its 12:23 am. i grab my phone from the drawer and see a flurry of texts and instagram notifications assaulting my lock screen.
i ignore the texts — six from kie and eight from jj — and click open instagram.
my homepage is filled with pictures of the pogues at the kegger they're at. i can't help the pettiness that surges up inside me and i click on jj's most recent story, a video of him, kie, pope, john b, and sarah screaming the lyrics to bohemian rhapsody around a campfire.
—————
you replied to their story
yourinstagram looks like you're having fun :)
—————
i feel slightly terrible, but whatever. every single kegger they've been to this past week, i haven't been invited.
a text notification comes down onto my screen. it's from kie. the preview reads "im soo sorru"
what the hell? i immediately click on the text and i almost start crying.
—————
kie kie ml ♡
bro so dnt be mad but like i accidentally told jj that u liked him
im sorry
answer me please idont want yu to be mad
i dd;t mean to i swaer
y/n?? are you mad??
y/n pleeaas answre
im soo sorru
bro wtf.
ik im sorry but we were playing truuth or dsre and plpe asked if i had acrush on anybody and i sadi no i didn't but ik you did and the n jj asked who and im sorry :)
:(*** SORRY
whatever. go enjoy your kegger.
—————
what the everloving fuck. i specifically told her not to tell anyone, especially jj, and she goes and tells everyone and their mother. i've gotten a flurry of texts from pope, john b, sarah, and other pogues i suppose are at the kegger, all asking me if it's true i like jj. and, speak of the devil, jj himself has been texting me nonstop for the past thirty minutes.
—————
golden retriever lookin' mf 😋
haha kie jus told me the funnist shut
wait is she for real
wait n/n yuo like me
like fr fr?
brp answer me pls
y/nnnnnn
are you asleepo r somethinh 💀
y/n if you dpn't answer rn rn im going ovet to yiur house
—————
shit. jj can't come over right now. i look like a mess, and now im fucking crying. my gaze drifts back over to the mirror; my eyes are red and puffy and tears are streaming down my face and dripping down onto my (jj's) shirt.
—————
golden retriever lookin' mf 😋
jj please dont come over just stay at the kegger and have fun
nooo y/n im already on my wsy so its fine
—————
shit shit shit.
i throw my phone across the room and scream into my bedsheets. the pogues already didn't like me anymore; they had been going out and having fun without for weeks now, and now kie tells jj i like him? my life is fucking falling apart.
a knock at my window wakes me up from whatever sad haze i was trapped in for the last twenty minutes. jj's peering in and he smiles when he meets my gaze. i shake my head and turn away from him.
no bother letting him in, he'll probably just tell me that he doesn't like me back and to never talk to him again.
another knock, persistent, sounds from the window. i sigh and turn back.
i open the window but leave the screen up, so jj can hear me but he can't get in. "go away, j."
"nooo. wait, why are you cryiinggg?" he asks, the booze slurring his words.
"nothing. no reason. go away, please, jj," i say, my voice cracking.
his face softens and he seems to sober up a bit. "n/n, please tell me what's wrong. i hate seeing you sad," he whispers. fuck. i can't, i can't with the fucking blue eyes and the soft looks and the whispers. i open the rest of the window, and jj climbs in.
i crawl under the covers of my bed and face away from jj. i feel the bed dip next to me and he lays a warm hand on my back. its so casual, so domestic, that i want to laugh.
"sunshine, what's wrong? is this about what kie said?" he asks, gently rubbing my back.
the dam breaks. tears start flowing out of my eyes and i started shaking.
"it is about what kie said. i like you, jj, i really like you. no, i- i love you! i love you so much. i've loved you since i first saw you in mrs. williams' science class in eight grade and you laughed when she said that iron was discovered by the hittites. and i know you'll never love me back because— well— look at me! im not like kie, im not like sarah. i'm just... me! and i've been trying to pretend like you guys going to keggers everyday without me isn't a big deal because, hey, i'm swamped with school, even though its fucking intercession. and i knew if i told you, you'd hate me and you'd never talk to me again," i sob into my pillow.
jj is silent for a few seconds, still rubbing my back.
"i love you too, sunshine. i've loved you for the entirety of the time i've known you. and, you're right. you're not kie or sarah, but you're you. that's what i love about you. you are unapologetically yourself. and i'm sorry for not inviting you to the keggers. i just, i knew you were swamped and i know you don't really like parties 'nd drinking and shit. and i just want you to know that im so proud of you, honey, and— jesus, y/n. you're the only one for me. you always have been. you're the person who's been there whenever luke did something shitty to me, you've helped me with my homework, and gosh, dare i say it, you've helped me be a better person."
he chuckles. i feel him press a kiss to the back of my neck and gently bring me towards him so i'm basically in his lap. he wraps his arms around me and lays his head in the crook of my neck. we stay together in a comfortable silence for a few moments.
i sniffle. "i'm sorry, j."
"you're not the one who should be apologizing, sunshine. i love you, so much. i'm sorry if i made you feel like i'd never talk to you again or like you weren't enough; you are enough. you always have been."
#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank angst#jj maybank fluff#obx#obx x reader#outerbanks#outerbanks x reader#jj obx#jj obx fic#outerbanks fanfiction#jj maybank hurt/comfort#hurt/comfort#fluff#angst#[🧸] dear diary
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Request for John b: John b punishes female reader for being a brat. (daddy kink, maybe bondage kink if you want)
a/n: omg my first request !!! thank u so much for requesting i hope u like it ♡ also John B just radiates someone to call his girl ‘pup’ i can’t help it
nsfw 18+
John B putting you in your place
You couldn’t help it, not really. Sometimes John B was just so… preoccupied with whatever was going on at the moment, which right now was a Pogue hangout.
You had come to John B’s with direct intentions, ones you thought he was well aware of, but soon after you arrived, JJ came out of the guest bedroom with the news that Pope was on his way with Kie. You looked to John B, confusion over your face.
“Bonfire,” he answered simply before pressing a too quick peck to your lips, then walking past you to follow JJ outside.
You couldn’t believe your boyfriend was so oblivious sometimes.
Fine. You thought. If he wants to play dumb, I can play dumber.
You went into your bedroom, which was really John B’s bedroom but for the past year and a half of your relationship, it had become yours too. You went straight to your dresser, to the bottom drawer, all John B’s favorites resided there; white tank top, no bra, ripped denim shorts, and your black thong.
After you got changed, you went into the bathroom to reapply your mascara before you put your hair up in a messy bun, John B’s favorite to grab. Then you gave a spritz of your perfume before walking out of the Chateau, feigning casual as you strode straight up to John B, who was currently in a beer chugging contest with JJ.
JJ surrendered first, which meant he was the first to notice your outfit, his jaw going slack and his eyes immediately averting to his friend, just as John B finished his can.
“You lose!” John B shouted, still oblivious as he threw his can to the ground, it was then he noticed the weird look on his friend’s face, and turned to see you. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
“You won? Good job, baby!” You cheered, coupled with a small jump.
“Jeeeesus christ,” JJ said, fully turning around to avoid looking at you.
“Sweetheart, your outfit…” John B chuckled to try and seem light hearted.
Your eyebrows screwed together, a small pout on your lip, “What? I thought you liked this outfit?” You looked down at your outfit.
“I like the outfit,” JJ spoke up, his back still turned to you. His comment earned him a smack on the arm from John B.
“Baby girl,” John B said slowly, trying to get the hint across. “I do like that outfit, I just think… it’s too cold for it. I want my girl to be warm.”
“It’s July, Jombee, I think I’ll be fine.”
John B got a serious look in his eye. “Y/N…”
“John Booker,” You mimicked his tone. “I don’t understand what’s wrong. JJ likes the outfit," you argued.
“Let her wear what she wants, man, you’re not her dad,” Kie spoke up from the hammock.
“Yeah, John B, you’re not my dad,” You repeated slowly, looking at him with a smile before walking over to the cooler, bending down to reach inside for a drink.
You barely got the lid off before John B raced over to you, pulling you aside. “Okay, point taken. I’m sorry you’ve been feeling neglected, okay? Just go inside and change and I’ll make it up to you later.”
“Why would I feel neglected, Jombee?” You tilted your head to the side, batting your eyelashes, still feigning innocence.
“You’re pushing it, pup. Be a good girl, go change.”
Now you were annoyed. This was his fault, he was the one who wasn’t paying attention to you when you clearly needed it, and now he was threatening to punish you?
“I don’t want to change. I like this outfit.” You crossed your arms, huffing a bit.
John B took a deep inhale, his eyes devouring you as they scanned your body. Then he walked away, leaving you confused and following after him.
“Hey, guys, we’re out of logs, can you guys make a run?” John B asked. You furrowed your eyebrows, you had just seen a stack of logs behind the shed he pulled you to.
“Keys?” Pope asked, and John B reached into his pocket, tossing the keys to him. JJ immediately took the keys from Pope and the two boys raced to the van, while Kie took her time getting out of the hammock.
“Don’t have too much fun without us,” Kie mumbled as she walked past.
“What the hell was that?”
But John B didn’t answer you, he grabbed you by your wrist, leading you inside with very little fight from you. Once you reached your shared bedroom, John B practically threw you inside, slamming the door behind you.
“Dude! What the hell a-”
“What did you just call me, pup?” John B asked, towering over you. His eyes were huge and hungry, filled with lust. The air around you changed, and suddenly, you didn’t feel so vindicated.
“Fine! I’ll change my outfit!”
“Nuh uh, too late for that. On the bed, now. Face down.”
Your bottom lip quivered a bit, but you obeyed, laying on your stomach on the bed.
John B’s hands slid up the back of your thighs, the cupped the plump of your ass as he let out a took a deep inhale. “You think you’re so clever, huh?” His hands moved up, fingers sliding under the strap of your thong. “Didn’t know my girlfriend was such a slut, prancing around in practically nothing in front of my friends.” He pulled back the strap and let the string snap you, causing you to hiss.
“Noooo,” your whine was muffled by the mattress. “Wasn’t for them, just you… wanted to show you what you were missing…”
“Yeah? Well you got my attention, baby girl.” His hands reached around to unbutton your shorts before he pull them down your legs. You let out small yelp when his hand came down on your right cheek.
“Thought this was what you wanted, pup? My undivided attention.” You don’t know when John B got his pants off, but you could feel his hard dick pressed against your ass.
“Mmmm, want you Jombee…”
“How does a good girl beg?” His hands were now pawing at the flesh of your ass.
“Please daddy, please fuck me?”
His hand came down again, making you wince.
“Thought I wasn’t your dad?”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry I was bad, I’ll be good,” you pleaded.
“Go lay by the headboard.”
You crawled to the top of the bed, then looked at him as you turned to lay on your back, hesitantly; you didn’t want to make the wrong move. But he nodded approvingly, so you committed, laying with your back against the pillows.
John B reached around his neck, untying his bandana, and immediately your face scrunched with confusion, then morphed into upset when he brought your hands up to the headboard.
“Daddy…” you whined, leaning forward a bit. “I’ll be good, I promise. Just wanted you.”
“You have me, baby girl. You’re gonna have all of me,” John B said softly as he tied the knot connecting your wrists to the headboard.
John B kneeled in front of you, his dick perfectly at eye level. You bit your bottom lip as your mouth filled with saliva at the sight of precum leaking from his perfect pink tip. “Open.”
You looked up at him through your lashes as you slowly opened your mouth, but John B shoved his thumb into your mouth, forcing your mouth open wider before replacing his thumb with the tip of his dick, slowly sliding in.
“You said you wanted to be a good girl, right?” John B asked, and you carefully nodded with your lips wrapped around him. “Be a good girl and suck daddy’s dick.”
You kept your eyes on him as you began moving your head back and forth, opening your throat as wide as you could to fit the thickness of his cock. Despite your throat being used to his size, tears began springing to the corners of your eyes.
John B took a deep breath, a small moan slipping out. “There’s my good girl.” His hands found their way to your bun, his fingers digging into it. You wanted to be his good girl more than you wanted anything else, with each movement you tried to hollow your cheeks more and more. You ached to touch him, feel close to him, so you gave your all to sucking him off, hoping if you did a good enough job, he’d allow you to touch him.
“So fucking good at this, baby, fuck- you want my cum, sweet girl?” John B said softly between labored breaths, you nodded your head the best you could without disrupting your goal at hand. “Look at me, pup.” Your eyes immediately raised back to his eyes, but John B held your head up to look at him anyway, as his hips started snapped fucking himself with your mouth. You clenched your legs together underneath him as you felt your wetness pooling just from pleasuring him.
“Here it comes, be a good girl, okay baby? Yeah? You’re so fucking good for me, just for me. Feels so fucking good- ah- fuck!” John B just before you felt his warm cum spill into your mouth. You swallowed it all before licking his tip a few more times for good measure as the man above you caught his breath.
“Such a fucking good girl.”
“Yeah? I was good?”
“You sure were pup,” John B said before his head dipped down to press a soft kiss to your lips, he could still taste himself on your tongue. You pulled at your restraints, desperate to touch him, which made John B laugh.
“My poor baby…” He taunted, making you whine. “Ah ah, good girls don’t whine.” You settled for pouting instead. He gave you a devious smile.
“I want you to remember this the next time you feel like giving me a boner in front of my friends.”
John B lowered himself between your legs, rubbing the tip of his still hard dick through your folds. You bit your lip as you watched him; this had been what you were waiting for all day, but nothing could have prepared you for the delicious stretch when John B suddenly slid all the way in to the hilt, a loud gasp turned moan escaped you. John B chuckled as he lifted your legs higher before he started his movements.
“This what you wanted? Speak up babygirl.”
“Yes daddy, this is what I wanted,” you breathed out as John B started with a slow pace.
“Yeah? Poor girl just needed my cock?”
“Needed it so bad, Jombee, craving you all day.”
His pace picked up, spurred on by your words; John B was always a sucker for dirty talk. You let out a pathetic moan as you tried to move your hips to match his movements.
But John B didn’t want to share control, so he pulled out, a disappointed gasp falling from you. With his hands on your waist, John B turned you to lie on your stomach, forcing your hands tighter together. His hands once more palmed at your ass before his fingers slid down to open you up for him to slide back in, his cock reaching deeper inside you and pulling sinful noises from you against your will.
“Fuck- mm- Jombee- oh my god-” You panted out between his thrusts as your face was pushed into the pillow from the position of your bottom, and the movements of John B’s hips. Small uh’s fell from your lips as your brain turned hazy from the bliss of pleasure.
“Baby girl just needed to be fucked dumb, isn’t that right, pup?” All you could muster was a eager nod of the head, John B chuckled before slapping his hand against your right cheek, pulling you closer to him by your waist as he moved faster.
“Close- close daddy, so close,” words fell from you without thought. “You feel so fucking good, daddy, you fuck me so good.”
“Already? Poor baby, so pent up. You gonna cum on my cock babygirl?”
“Please let me, daddy, I want to be good. Want to show you how good you fuck me, please.”
“You gonna let me cum inside you like a good girl?”
“Yes!” You practically begged, on the edge of your orgasm. “Please, daddy, cum inside me, wanna feel it.”
John B knew just how to send you over the edge as his hand snaked around your bodies, inbetween your legs to slowly rub circles on your clit. You face fell back into the pillow as you let out a scream in pleasure, before your boyfriend’s name fell from your lips.
“Shhh, I’m right behind you baby, so close, just be good, let me use you a little longer.”
You bit your lip to try and suppress the moans caused by the overstimulation, but when his pace faltered a bit, you heard him let out a grunt before you felt familiar warmth of his cum inside you. You hummed with pleasure, proud of yourself for pleasuring him.
“You did such a good job, pup,” John B said softly, in between breaths as we reached up to untie the bandana from around your wrists. When your arms fell back down, you mustered up your strength to wrap them around him. John B held you close, laying on his back so you were laying on his chest.
You two laid there for a few minutes, catching your breath as John B caressed your head and whispered praises to you. “So proud of you. You’re such a good girl for me, Y/N. I love you, so so much.” He pressed a kiss to your head, and you let your eyes close, still buzzing from your orgasm and happy with your choices for the day.
©outermaybanks 2024
#john b x reader#john b routledge x reader#john b prompt#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks#jombee#john b routledge
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0. There Was A Time
fic chapters/warnings/disclaimers/ect
:DISCLAIMER:
Mentions of drugs/ sex ect.
English is not my first language
POV changes
x reader
inconsistent updates
time line is not perfect or accurate
Character may also not be accurate
I'll also be posting this on wattpad and maybe ao3
So if you see it wasn't stolen<3
Also i dont know how tumblr works and how to link chapters together(someone send help)
ALSO THIS NOT EDITED IN ANYWAY SO SORRY IF THERE ARE SPELLING MISTAKES
THANK YOU FOR READING MWUAH MWUAH
LEAVE COMMENTS <3
The studio was warm in the coldest night of this Autumn, warm yellowish light and the red carpeted floor made it feel like a cosy log cabin. A full drum set with a few too many ride cymbals and windchimes sat close to the middle of the fat bare bricked wall, with a small metal bucket that had the remains of broken splinter drumsticks. A rack of guitars and two bass holders stood next to the right wall where an old armchair sits, a few different sized amps scattered round the square room. Right in front of the glass that separates the control room from the studio three mic stand in a line with noise cancelling boxes surrounding each of them.
In the control room there is a strong smell of weed and other smokeable herbs, "No! You can't take Runaway Blues off the album!" A man with short shoulder length brown hair and a moustache protested as he puffed on his cigarette as he lied back on the couch, his dark glasses fell back on his face as he tilted his head back. "I agree with Jake. It shows how good we are even when we're shit faced." The man with long curly hair, a gorgeous ethnic nose, stood up – towering over the other 4 people in the sesh – and began to roll another blunt on one of the control panels. The one that started this debated piped in, "Thanks Dan for taking my side." He said sarcastically, his curly mullet was like a solid cloud on his head, and he has a moustache like Jake. "We'll our wonderful manager and producer here," A man that looked like Jesus pointed to a woman that sat next to Jake on the couch. "Was the one that wasn't shit faced, I think that's why it was actually good, Joshua." He finished. "Hey, hey, I'm not saying it's shit because of you, please believe me y/n!" Josh dramatically pleaded to y/n. She was looking up at the ceiling. Pupils dilated. Blunt in hand. "Just, make it shorter." She said confidently, waving her hand a bit. Still not looking at anyone and head craned back. "You have the answer to everything." Danny said his mouth slightly gaped that such a simple solution didn't register in any of their minds. Or he's just on a psychedelic trip and can't spark up a brain cell.
The following week the band had dates in LA since they were still doing there 'Dreams in Gold' Tour. The band was already at the venue setting up, some still sleeping in the bus. Y/n had some business to attend to in their studio in New York before going down to LA. She decided to walk down the infamous Sunset Strip, as a historic music place like this could not go untrekked when having the chance. Wearing a black turtleneck, dark blue flare jeans with dark brown boots and a satchel bag hanging from her shoulder, a small suitcase's handle in the other hand while the silver case dragged its wheels on the floor. As she caught the sight of the colourful sign of The Rainbow, a voice called to her. "Y/n?" A older man, short blondish hair, leather jacket, sunglasses.
Axl Rose.
And like the trigger of a gun being pulled,
A life was lost.
(or misplaced)
Y/n's POV:
Everything stood still,
I stood still.
Then it all went dark. It was a black lifeless void.
Falling backwards but being physically still.
Time was reversing.
A previous life. My life?
Memories rolling past like an old film.
My head spiralled.
I can't comprehend this. What is happening to me?
My first years of school, late 60's early 70's. That's not right. It was the early 2000's.
Falling in love with music, Queen, Elton John.
Highschool was trip. My parents being stricter than anyone else's, they didn't believe I could have a job as in the music industry.
Studying music in college then going on the Uni and taking a science course to get my folks off my back.
One of my most successful record deals was Mötley Crüe and Bon Jovi.
Before they even started writing lyrics for their songs, I knew it off by heart and helped them gain success with it and recording went like dream.
Now I was searching the East Coast for a new band to sign.
March 1985, The City of Angels.
A flash of light, and my eyes flickered open.
It a cold night, dark but the city light was somewhat comforting.
It was the Sunset Strip, but something was...
Off.
------------
OMG SORRY IF IT'S SHIT
THIS WAS LIKE THE INTRODUCTION, FIRST PART IS COMING OUT SOON
IM SO EXCITED
(Band at the beginning is greta van fleet )
#guns n roses#axl rose#slash#duff mckagan#izzy stradlin#steven adler#gnr fanfiction#x reader#axl rose x reader#slash x reader#duff mckagan x reader#izzy stradlin x reader#steven adler x reader#time travel#gnr#axl gnr#slash gnr#duff gnr#izzy gnr#steven gnr#guns n roses fanfic#Spotify
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Toozmanykids Writing Prompt
OMG. I am laughing so hard that I don't even remember why I opened YouTube this morning in the first place. This John Mulaney short automatically started playing and immediately I knew it had to be a Writing Prompt for today. Right??? At least a drabble?
Here. I'll start.
Unfortunately, no smut. It was going to be quick and funny quips at each other, yet I don't think it turned out that way by the time I got done. BUT AT LEAST THIS PROMPT GOT ME WRITING! RIGHT? Now it's your turn, y'all!
SUMMARY: No smut. Just Avengers getting on each other's nerves. Not as funny as it should've been. Damnit.
No warnings.
Word count: 730
Do you believe in ghosts?
The Quinjet had been circling for hours a ways off shore, low to the water to avoid detection, while two dozen of Tony's surveillance drones quietly searched miles of coastline for the mission's target. Four friendly neighborhood Avengers waited patientły impatiently aboard, going stir crazy quicker than anyone would admit.
The silence was thick and tense, but far more preferable to the alternative.
"Hey Mr. Stark—"
"Don't. Just don't," Tony cut off the eager new Avenger. The other two passengers groaned at the sound of Peter's voice. Again.
"But—"
"I swear if you ask me one more 'Would You Rather...?' question, I will rip Charlotte's Web right out of your insides, wrap you up into a perfect spider snack, and feed you to that starving pig."
"Geezus, Tony. Wilbur would never have eaten Charlotte," Natasha pretended to placate Tony, not even attempting to hide her smirk.
"No. No. It's not another 'Would You Rather...?' question, I promise. I got that message loud and clear the second time Miss Romanoff held a blade to my throat." Peter's hand travelled up to his throat while his other waved at Tony in surrender.
Natasha gave Peter a tiny wink when he glanced over his shoulder and offered her a sheepish and awkward smile.
"I told you, she doesn't joke when she's holding a knife," Tony cautioned again.
"Yes, she does! All the time."
"The kid's right, Tony," Natasha admitted. "I prefer to stay unpredictable."
"So Mr. Stark," Peter quickly changed the subject, still gently rubbing his neck. "Do you believe in ghosts?"
"Of course I do," Tony answered without hesitation or even a glance away from the computer screen.
"Seriously? Even after all we've seen?" Peter moved forward, leaning closer to Tony.
Natasha spun her chair to face Tony and gave him her full attention as well. "Yeah, Tony. Seriously?"
"Especially after all we've seen. I'm surprised at you two. How can you not?"
"Have you ever seen a ghost, Mr. Stark?"
"That's a ridiculous question," still not looking away from his computer screen.
"Why is it ridiculous? Have you?"
"Oh damn," slamming his hands onto his knees. "I knew I was forgetting something. I'm so sorry." Sitting up straighter, Tony turned his chair toward the back of the jet and shouted, "Hey Manchurian Candidate! I guess I never properly introduced you to the team."
In the far back end of the jet, camouflaged within the shadows wearing all black combat armor, the fourth passenger hadn't said a single word since boarding. He sat slouched in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, and knees spread wide above huge heavy black steel tipped boots polished to a shine, reflecting the only light in the tailend to infiltrate his shadows. His face was hidden by shaggy brown hair and a well worn baseball cap pulled down low.
"Baby Spider and the Spider Queen are your chippy little cohorts today if we ever spot this asshole and can touch down. Spidey friends, may I present our very own paranormal soldier, Sergeant Bucky Barnes."
"High-fucking-larious, Stark. Now fuck off," Bucky grumbled, pulling the bill of his hat even farther down over his face to look like he was napping.
"Holy shit! I didn't even know he was on board. How did I not sense him?" Peter shouted.
"That's my point, kid," Tony said. "He must be a ghost. Think about it. There's no other answer. He's straight up Jacob Marley, but missing the heavy chains with a door knocker for a nose."
They all burst into laughter - all but Bucky who grumbled some more.
After about an hour or so, Peter walked to the back of the jet and cautiously sat down next to Bucky.
The soldier didn't say anything; he didn't move; he didn't even look to be breathing.
Leaning toward him, Peter softly asked him, "You're not really a ghost, are you sir?"
"I have no idea," Bucky answered flatly and with finality.
Peter's eyes widened, more unsure of his beliefs after that cryptic non-answer than he was before he asked.
"Oh... Yes, sir," Peter said as he retreated back to his chair next to Tony.
Silence hung heavily in the Quinjet after that.
Finally.
Bucky gave Natasha a wink at one point when their eyes met. Eventually Peter would ask more questions, but they enjoyed the silence as long as it lasted.
The End.
It's a new year, and I'm going to be push myself harder to actually post. Good, bad, stupid, or slutty - I'm gonna post stuff anyway. This will be the year of drabbles, false starts, unfinished stories, and plots that go nowhere.
JUST WRITE AND POST, TOOZ!
JUST WRITE AND POST—OFTEN!
My drabble here didn't turn out the way I had planned, but I can see this idea take a fun turn if Bucky actually is a ghost. He could be!!!
He could be trapped on Earth and tethered to his super soldier body that won't decay. At least MOST of the missions Hydra sent him on were to kill other bad guys. Right?
Tony had some other theories too. But it's 3am and now I don't remember what his theory was. Grrrrr.
Anyone else looking for some inspiration?
@nildespirandum @ladyoftheteaandblood @caffiend-queen @redfoxwritesstuff @so-easy-to-love-me @acidcasualties @americasass81 @jtargaryen18 @alexakeyloveloki @devikafernando @spectre-posts @wiypt-writes @nonsensicalobsessions @latent-thoughts @mastreworld @talklokitome @wolfsmom1 @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @holymultiplefandomsbatman @muddyorbs @fictive-sl0th @villainousshakespeare @liminalpebble @jobean12-blog
I really hope to post more this year. I'm serious. AND I'll do an actual tag list. Please confirm if you want to see my stuff or prefer that I leave you alone. You are not required to listen to my drivel for me to still love reading from your blog. I promise. Honest. Just let me know.
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Where this flower blooms | chapter 2
(Rafe Cameron x Heyward!reader)
Warnings: NON CANON, curse words, sexual references/sexual innuendos, slightly toxic (not really) relationship, smut, forbidden relationship, underage drinking.
Synopsis: he’s an asshole, but he’s so hot. It’s a shame he’s also your brothers biggest foe.
A/N: read part 1 for context
Kiara and Sarah somehow convinced you to go to a party with them on The Cut, which your brother Pope, John B, and JJ would also be attending to. Your parents wouldn’t have let Pope go if you weren’t with him so he was happy he had Sarah and Kiara there to help convince you to go.
Before you got to the party you all pre-gamed at The Chateau which you were low-key grateful for because there was no way you were hanging with these guys all night, sober. You all knew it would be a terrible idea to drive to and back from the party, drunk so, you all decided to walk. It wasn’t that far anyway so, nobody protested.
It looked like everyone at the party was already wasted by the time you guys even got there.
The boys had went their separate ways from you, Sarah and Kiara. And as you scanned over the party you noticed Topper and Kelce. You knew Rafe couldn’t have been far. Wherever those two were, Rafe was sure to be right behind.
“Fuck, my brothers here.” Sarah cursed.
Kiara stood on her tippy toes to follow Sarah’s gaze. Sarah slumped a bit, not wanting her brother to see her, knowing he’d either snitch on her to their father or taunt her for the whole night.
“Does he ever have a shirt on?” Kiara questioned with a disgusted face.
“Nope.” Sarah answered.
“I mean, we kinda are at the beach.” You chuckled.
“True.” Kiara frowned.
“Guys we gotta move, I can’t let him see me.” Sarah held one hand over her face as if he wouldn’t be able to recognize her figure or hair if he had seen her.
You all moved through the little crowds of people to try and get as far as you could.
“Sarah!” John B yelled with his hand up and waving her over.
Rafe heard his sisters name being called and looked at John B to follow his gaze.
“Shit,” Sarah said, ducking even lower.
You and Kiara attempted to hide her in front of you both as you walked but Rafe saw.
Rafe’s face was even as he walked past the bonfire and through the crowd over to his sister.
“Get up, dumbass.” He said. “I see you.”
Sarah cursed herself for not hiding better.
You and Kiara now stood besides Sarah, Kiara giving Rafe a scowling look while you were scared for Sarah.
“What are you hiding for? Huh?” Rafe questions, furrowing his brows.
“Didn’t want you to snitch.” She says, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I don’t give a fuck about the shit you do,” He spit. “And you know that.”
Topper and Kelce had made their way over, now standing slightly behind Rafe.
“Bullshit Rafe! You snitch on me every chance you get.” She spit back.
You, Kiara, Topper, and Kelce watched as the two siblings argued.
“Yeah, when you piss me off.”
“You’re an asshole, Rafe.” Sarah scoffs. “Why are you even on The Cut.”
He ignored the last part.
“Yeah, whatever.” He looks down at Sarah’s bare legs. “And those shorts are far too short, cover up. Before some fucking pedo, or some shit, gets your ass.” He spits one last insult at his sister before he looks you up and down.
“How about you go put a shirt on, asshole.” She responded.
He gave his sister the middle finger before him, Topper and Kelce decided to walk back to where they came from.
You all feel relieved when he walks away.
“I hate him, so much.” Sarah says, as all three of you walk over to the guys.
They were sitting on a log, around the bonfire when you walked up.
“What was that about?” John B questioned.
Pope looked up at you. “Rafe wasn’t talking to you, was he?”
“No, no. He was talking to me.” Sarah blurted. She didn’t want Pope to get riled up for no reason and cause a scene.
“Just being his typical, grade A asshole, self.” Kiara added.
“Whys he even here?” JJ asks while playing with a stick in the sand.
“Seriously.” Kiara scoffs.
Sarah shrugged.
“Let’s just stay as far as possible from him.” You add, not really knowing what to say.
Everyone nods.
“I’m gonna get a drink, anyone want anything?” You say.
Only JJ and Kiara said yes. You nodded before making your way to the keg.
You grabbed three red solo cups, and began to fill them up one by one, setting the firstly filled cup on the portable table that held up the keg.
“Following me again?” A familiar voice says from behind.
A shirtless Rafe makes an appearance when he stands beside you. You look up for a second then back down at the keg to make sure you didn’t overfill the cup.
“Absolutely not.” You roll your eyes.
“Keep rolling your eyes like that and they’ll get stuck back there, ya know?” He grins.
“Good,“ you respond. “Then I won’t have to see you.” You shrug.
The second cup had been filled so, you placed it on the table next to the first filled cup.
He lowers his head, chuckling to himself at your smart remark.
“You always have something smart to say.”
“You were a dick to Sarah.” You grab the last cup and continue to fill it up.
“Yeah? so what? She’s my sister.”
“Pope doesn’t talk to me like that.” You shrug.
“Sarah’s a drama queen, alright? She deserves to get humbled once in awhile. That’s why I exist.” He points to himself then throws his hands up in defense, with a smile.
You chuckled a bit at his words. He wasn’t wrong, Sarah was dramatic at times, but you loved her for it.
“You have a pretty smile.” He says softly, tilting his head. “You should smile more often.”
Your smile disappeared at his random words, as your cheeks turned slightly red.
you were taken aback, honestly.
He was absolutely drunk because Rafe giving compliments? Was not something you’d ever seen before.
You stared at him for a second, not knowing what to say, then looked back down at your cup that was overflowing with beer, as the liquid flowed around the rim and onto your hand then sprinkled onto your feet. You quickly pulled the cup away from the keg and sat it on the table.
“Shit,” you cursed.
Rafe looked down at the liquid spilled onto your feet and hands. “oh shit.” He said, before quickly grabbing napkins that sat next to the keg.
He dropped on one knee and began cleaning the liquid off the tops of your feet.
“Thank you.” You murmured.
It was weird seeing how soft Rafe was with you when he treated his sister like shit.
“Don’t worry about it.” He nodded as he stood up, throwing the napkins in a trashcan next to the table.
“I gotta get back,” You said, pointing your thumb over your shoulder towards your group.
He nodded. “See you around.” He grinned.
You nodded back and picked up the solo cups to bring back to Kiara and JJ. One solo cup rested in the crease of your elbow since your hands were occupied with the other two.
“Took you long enough.” Kiara joked.
“I spilled it all over me.” You leaned down handing her the solo cup, then walked up to JJ, handing him his.
“Idiot.” Pope said, playfully.
You and the group had been at the party for about an hour now. Everyone was now, out of their mind, drunk.
Everyone was nursing their own drinks. Kiara was leaned onto Pope and Sarah was seated next to John B, Leaving you and JJ to fifth wheel together
“I’m going for a swim.” You say, belching as you stand up.
“Did you bring your bathing suit?” Pope asks, slurring his words.
“No. But what’s the difference between a bathing suit and underwear.” You shrug with a frown.
“So true.” Sarah points at you with half closed eyes like you had just said the realest thing.
Well in her drunk mind, you had.
You began to pull your shirt over your head.
“Yes! Go Y/n!” Kiara cheers you on, also slightly slurring her words.
“You’re so sexy!” Sarah yells.
You let a big cheeky smile form across your face as your brother covers his own.
“It feels illegal to watch you strip into your under garments, please.” His hand was still covering his face enough for him to not see your figure undressing.
John B also covered his face out of respect for both you and Sarah whileJJ sat back with a big drunken smile on his face.
You flung your shirt over your head a few times then threw it, God knows where.
That shirt was expensive.
You slowly slid down your shorts to give your friends a little show.
Sarah and Kiara were laughing uncontrollably.
Rafe, from afar, caught wind of what was going on and watched as you slid your shorts down, revealing your laced underwear.
“No way I’m sitting here for this,” Pope said. “I’m getting a beer.” He stood up. “John B, JJ, c’mon.” His hand still covering his face as he waved for his friends with his free hand.
“Y’all be good.” John B, yelled (mostly talking to Sarah) as he followed Pope.
JJ hesitated, enjoying the show you had put on, but eventually followed the guys so he wouldn’t get lectured for staring at his best friends little sister undressing herself.
You were now only in your bra and underwear, getting yourself hyped up to jump into the freezing water.
“You got this!” Sarah yelled.
You peaked over your shoulder and smiled at your friends that were a few feet away as you dipped your toe in the water.
Rafe was standing with Topper and Kelce not listening to a single word they were saying as he still watched you from afar, amused by your enthusiasm.
“Dude, are you listening?” Topper’s question was quickly answered when he followed Rafe’s gaze and realized you were who he was eyeing.
“Oh nah,” he dragged out, punching Rafe’s shoulder. “Don’t even.” He chuckled.
“What?” Rafe snapped back into the conversation.
“That’s Heyward’s sister.”
“Yeah, so what?” He shot back.
“She’s a pogue.” Kelce added, noticing what was going on.
When Rafe looked back at you, you were splashing around in the water.
“Not like I’m trying to get with her.” Rafe spit.
“But you’re eye fucking her, dude.” Kelce said, chuckling along with Topper.
“I mean I get it, she’s hot for a Pogue, but-,”
“Shut the fuck up, Topper.” Rafe says, cutting him off.
“No way,” Kelce dragged out. “You got a thing for Heyward’s sister?”
Rafe snapped his head to Kelce and furrowed his brows. “No.” Was all that came out.
“Right,” Topper said slowly, not believing Rafe’s answer.
#obx#outerbanks#rafe cameron#rafe x reader#rafecameron#topper thornton#sarah cameron#jjmaybank#heyward!reader#kiaracarrera#rafe x pogue!reader
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Text
Birthday
John's eyes fluttered open automatically. He found himself wrapped in Sherlock's arms. John had been holding him too, and he was facing Sherlock in the morning, as he became more awake in their bed.
It was half past six and Sherlock's hair was all unruly; some of the strands were touching John's face. John brushed those strands aside and was beaming, as he watched Sherlock breathe in and out, slowly and steadily, as if they both had all the time in the world.
Frankly, John could stay like this with him for an eternity. He wouldn't change a thing about his current life.
Sherlock pulled John closer. Then he made a low sound at the base of his throat that vibrated against John's body, making him shiver.
"Still sleeping?" John asked.
"No," he replied with his eyes still closed.
"Happy birthday," John said and kissed him on his cheek. Sherlock smiled. "Get up."
"Still too early." Sherlock had finally opened his eyes.
John let out a short laugh. "I've got something to show you."
"It can wait."
"Hey! Why can't I share some excitement with the best and the only consulting detective in the world? Not fair." John couldn't hold back on his smile.
Sherlock's cheeks were a faint shade of pink now. "Flattery will get you nowhere," he said as he ducked his face in John's neck.
John was grinning as he ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "Won't it, now? What else am I supposed to do to convince the best and the wisest and the most charming man I've ever known, to take him out of this bedroom?"
Sherlock placed his hand on John's chest and gently pushed him backwards. "Alright. Let's go," he said as he got out of the bed hurriedly, and grabbed his T-shirt to wear, all while hiding his face from John.
John laughed and got out of the bed, too. He wore his jumper and went out of the bedroom, expecting Sherlock to follow him.
John walked towards the sitting room and stopped near the small table beside his armchair. He picked up a small rectangular box, that was gift-wrapped with an orange paper and turned around. He watched Sherlock coming to him; so he placed his arms behind his back to hide that box.
"What is it?" asked Sherlock with a yawn, rubbing his eye with his right hand.
"Close your eyes."
Sherlock rolled his eyes first before closing them. John grabbed one of his hands and placed that box on his palm.
Sherlock opened his eyes to take a look at his present. He glanced up at John with a questioning look. When John didn't say anything, he decided to open it and see for himself.
As Sherlock tore open the wrapper to have a look at its contents, John's gaze was fixed on his face, anticipating Sherlock's reaction with an uncontrollable smile.
Sherlock's lips were parted as he stared at the gift. "Daisy seeds!"
"I recently learned that you're fond of bees, and daisies are known to attract them, so I thought-"
Sherlock had cut him off by pressing a kiss on John's mouth. His other hand was grabbing at John's collar.
John smiled into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist. They kept pouring themselves into that kiss.
Sherlock finally let go of him, breathlessly. John touched his forehead against Sherlock's. They were both smiling and John couldn't stop staring into Sherlock's mesmerizing eyes.
"So, it's safe to assume that you liked the gift."
Sherlock burst out laughing and so did John. "You're an idiot. But you're also amazing. You're an amazing idiot."
"Yeah, okay. I got it," John said and they laughed a bit more.
After some time, John pulled Sherlock close in an embrace. Sherlock's hands were wrapped tight around his waist.
John was right. He really wouldn't change a thing. This was the place he'd rather be in, for a lifetime. Sherlock's arms.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Prompts: Flattery and Surprise by @calaisreno
Thanks for the tag, @keirgreeneyes and @calaisreno !
Tagging: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @catlock-holmes @peanitbear , etc.
#johnlock#bbc sherlock#ficlet#may prompts#sherlock holmes#john watson#fluff#flattery#surprise#notjustamumj#sherlock x john#sherlock headcanon#sherlockian#my fic
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