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lottiecrabie · 1 year

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rockstar girlfriend – matty healy

tired of being treated like the girlfriend and not like the rockstar, you decide to pull a very rock move in the studio

warnings: 18+, oral (male receiving), fingering, soft dom!matty, praise, bit of degradation, drug use

2696 words

The New York Times calls you ‘everyone’s favorite rockstar’s girlfriend’. Twitter fan accounts gather a curated four picture reel of your best candids and caption it ‘rockstar bf it girl gf’. E!News’ periodic articles updating the world on all your recent outings read ‘Matty Healy and his girlfriend’. (Matty Healy and his girlfriend enjoy a steamy kiss outside a club in Manchester. Matty Healy and his girlfriend spotted in New York City with Coppola Cafe to-go cups. Matty Healy and his girlfriend hold hands as they wait for the London underground.) MusicoCritics title their deep dive on you ‘Matty Healy’s girlfriend’s album is a surprising masterpiece’.

Nevermind that it’s your fourth critically acclaimed album. Nevermind that your living room shelves ⁠— clustered with flower-pressed poetry books, esoteric trinkets found in thrift stores worldwide, potted plants on the edge of death ⁠— hold multiple well-earned awards. Nevermind that you’ve been singing for fifteen years, scribbling incoherent lyrics in the corner of books for longer than that.

Nevermind that you’re a fucking rockstar yourself.

You are Matty Healy’s girlfriend; you are the appendix of a musician. Your boyfriend’s name collects apostrophes while yours dust away, forgotten under aliases, rotting from underuse.

And, well, you’re fucking pissed. An entire career, fifty-seven songs, countless of voice-killing concerts, and it pales to practical inexistence for a nine months relationship.

Not that you don’t love Matty. It’s just⁠— You want to be more, you want to be whole.

You’re in your rented studio, sitting on the dirty couch, reading countless Reddit comments asking ‘who’s Matty’s gf’ and ‘i didn’t knwo she made music lol’, fuming. You should be working on your fifth album, the idea of a ballad lingering in a corner of your brain, but you are too busy driving yourself nearly insane. Injustice grips your guts, twists up around it. You want to scream.

Matty sits beside you, lighting up a joint. His hair is unmade, falling messily around his head. Smoke pours out of his lips. “Stop reading that bullshit,” he says, not unsmartly.

Your lips purse. “I know, I know.” You groan, head falling on the back of the couch. “Fuck, I just can’t help it. This is actually fucking shitty.”

In an effort to distract you, or perhaps loosen you up, Matty passes you the joint. He has two rings, silver and chunky, and chipped nail polish. There is something incomprehensibly attractive about his hands, callused and masculine; long, dexterous fingers around waxed paper. Desire pools in your stomach. You lick your lips, looking away, taking a hit.

“You should go crazy. Be a fucking cliche rockstar just in spite.” Matty grins. “Smoke a ton, do even more drugs. Destroy your voice. Show up late. Be too drunk to play.”

You snort. “Fuck groupies.”

“I might have something to say against that.”

“Die young.”

“You’re already past 27. You’ve lost your chance.”

A smoky laugh leaves your lips. Still, you consider his words, cocking your head. An idea half-blooming somewhere in you. “I think you’re onto something.”

“What?”

“I should make a rock album,” you say. “Be super fucking obnoxious about it, too. Make all these references, interpolate all the greats.” You smirk, giving him a teasing glance.

A curl of hair falls over his forehead. His Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a drag of his joint, cheeks digging it, brown eyes closing in ecstasy. He’s so fucking hot. You’d tell him if it wouldn’t go straight to his head, blow it up until he couldn’t fit through the door at all.

Cheekily, you throw a leg over his legs, straddling his lap. He welcomes you easily, a lazy hand holding onto your hip. “I’ll be the rockstar. You can be my eye candy,” you continue, fingers hungrily climbing to his shoulders.

“Is that so?” His fingers tighten, dragging you closer to him. Your hips roll over him with precision, clever hand working you at just the right angle. Your mouth parts, a strike of pleasure climbing up your spine. You stare at him through your eyelashes. He’s entirely too casual, too pleased. Cocky as he watches you, makes you rock your hips again.

“Yeah,” you nod, breathless.

You grind slowly, teasingly. As soon as you try to speed up, a powerful hand halts you. A puppet to a cruel man who smiles as you fail to get any real action going. The pace is torturous, lighting up your body until all parts of you are aware of him, of his hardening cock. You feel him most of all in the ache between your thighs, in the absence of him.

Frustratingly, your hands dig in his shoulders, clawing at the cotton. It’s unfair how little he reacts, how put-together he seems in his white button-up shirt, watching you grow desperate. Brattily, you add, “Yeah, you’re almost pretty enough.”

Matty laughs, but you can tell he’s a little peeved; overblown ego shot down with your cheeky smirk. He adventures a hand under your band tee, pinches your side, digs his nails into your back, encouraging your hips to rock faster with a rough, ruthless hand. Victory feels like a wave of toe-curling pleasure. Heat spreads under your skin, tightening your muscles. A small, self-indulgent whine leaves your mouth.

A grin breaks his face, cocky and pleased. How quickly the upper hand slips from you. Huffing, desperate to wipe it off, you crash your lips against his, swiping it away with a greedy tongue.

The kiss leaves you hungrier. Matty has always known how to coax the wanton need from you. How to leave you rocking furiously against him, hot and desperate, thoughtless except for the overwhelming need to get off. Throbbing and uncomfortably wet, a high-pitched moan slips into his mouth.

You break away to pant in his parted lips. Your hands hide in the mess of his hair, tugging at the roots, vengeful, careless. Still, Matty groans, rolling his head backwards. You smile too, just as cheeky, just as proud. He puts out the dwindling joint on your sofa, throwing it thoughtlessly in the studio. Finally free, he slips under your shirt, grabbing a handful of your breast.

You bury yourself in the side of his neck, licking and biting under his jaw. With expert fingers, you undo the buttons of his shirt until pearls of breathy, pained moans spill out of him. It sounds like a song, like the rhythm of your favorite melody. You’d bottle it up if you could, burn it on a CD to listen for later.

You sit up, spine straightening, practically ripping your mouth from him. The movement is so sudden you feel it reverberating in your head. Your hips still as thoughts spin in your soupy brain. Matty whines unhappily, hand digging in your back.

It takes five seconds. Once the idea fully forms, you look back at him with a mischievous smile. You start your rolls again, tantalizingly slow. You whisper, half to him but more to yourself, “I’ll be the rockstar, alright.”

Matty frowns. Out of breath, he says, “What?”

You don’t bother explaining. Instead, you stand up, leaving another moan to fall from his lips. Hands tumble from your shirt. Turning around to your mixing board, you hit the record button.

He’s even more confused when you come back to him, standing between his open legs. You take your time, racking two hands through your sweaty hair. Towering over him, you feel power gather around you, a heady mixture leaving you wetter than before.

You’re drunk on him, on the taste of weed and toothpaste, on the look of his thoroughly destroyed hair, of his red, swollen lips hanging onto your every possible word. His chest rises up and down in quick succession. A tempting tent in his slacks draws your eyes lower.

You ignore the throb. You ignore the need. You ignore the coil of building tension. You say, “I’m gonna make you scream.” You fall to your knees.

His legs widen, hips rising in excitement. “Fuck,” he groans just from the sight of you. Mesmerized, he watches in sacred silence as you work on his belt buckle. “Fuck, love, look at you.”

Matty’s own hand helps at his pants, ring twinkling in the low light. Finally, you manage to free his cock, hard and up, begging. You stare at it for a second, appreciating its glory. Your eyes snap back to his.

You follow every expression as it overwhelms his face when you first wrap your hand around it, allowing one slow stroke. His eyes close, his lips part, his head falls. He’s an atheist experiencing religion for the first time. He’s breathing your name, he’s worshiping it.

You smile. Your lips wrap around his tip, sucking on it. His hips jump in surprise. Matty’s eyes snap open, staring at you with a gasp. Exactly what you wanted.

“I want you to look at me,” you say, licking up his shaft. “Don’t stop looking at me.”

You could tease him. A part of you wants to, hand burning to slow down. A bigger part of you wants to ruin him.

You swallow him down. Matty’s breath comes out in heaving puffs amidst the scattered moans. You feel his thighs flex under your hands; his open shirt reveals a taut, tattooed stomach, muscles rippling with ecstasy.

You bob up and down, an electric pace that has you swallowing back a gag. Whatever you can’t fit, you stroke with deft fingers, twisting your wrist just like he likes. Feeling particularly devilish, you moan around his length just to hear him mutter a pained, “Shit.” His hips rise, but you push him back pointedly. Payback is salty and lingers on your tongue.

Feeling yourself choking, you release him, spitting on his dick to lube it up. Matty thrusts up in your hand, eyes rolling back until he remembers your order.

You lick at his tip, swirling your tongue around it, before taking him back in your slick and swollen lips. “You’re so pretty,” Matty says, voice hoarse. “Fuck, you were made for this, weren’t you?” You moan in agreement. “Yeah, that’s right. Made to be drooling on your knees for me.”

Perhaps embarrassingly, you feel a pool of arousal gather in your stomach from his words. Your thighs clench, hips rolling against nothing in hope of relieving that burning ache between them. Your clit feels criminally ignored.

Matty’s hands fly to your hair, racking through the mess he’s made of it. “Show me your tits,” he orders. Your eyebrows shoot up, but he’s only peering down at you with challenge.

Releasing him with a bop, saliva stringing from your lip to his dick, you take your shirt off. You can’t bother to unhook your bra, lowering the cups down and grabbing one of your nipples with your free hand. You pinch meanly, just like he would, and the pleasure spreading through you feels heavenly. A broken groan leaves your lips. “That’s it,” he breathes. “What a good girl, giving me a show.”

You whine. You can feel the control slipping from your hands with every ticking second, but your thighs are so sticky, your clit so swollen, your climax so far.

He gathers a handful of your hair, bringing you to his dick. Your head stings, but you welcome him back with an open mouth. This time, you do none of the work, letting him thrust himself in your throat. Your eyes water as he goes deeper.

“Shhh,” he sighs as tears stain your cheeks. “It’s okay. You’re doing so good, baby.” You nod, coaxing a desperate groan out of him. “What a good, little slut. Taking my dick so well.” Again, you nod, mouth full. Your hips shift, moving left and right uncomfortably. You can’t seem to get any real friction going, but you feel your insides throb against nothing.

“Poor baby,” Matty coos. “You want to come too?” Needy screams muffled by his cock. Matty sneaks his booted foot between your thighs, pressing so deliciously against your clit you cry out. “There you go, baby. Grind.”

And so you do, furiously rocking against his boot. Your hand not busy playing with your nipples wraps around his leg, gripping his calf. The pleasure is so pure your eyes roll back in your skull.

“Eyes on me,” Matty’s rough voice rings through the room. You open your eyes, locking with his darkened ones. “That’s right. I want you to look at me.” His face breaks with a victorious grin. Payback probably tastes like sweat and sweet moans to him.

You can feel both of you grow frantic. Matty bucks into you with a merciless, frenzied pace. His hold onto your head is ruthless; his fingers dig into your scalp, but you only scream more. Your hips follow his rhythm, each leather drag over your cunt making sweet euphoria grip your stomach.

“Gonna come for me?” He thrusts with abandon, practically choking you. Tension builds in your core, pussy clenching. “Gonna come all over my boot?” Bold words coming from a man just on the edge of an orgasm.

To prove your point, you hollow your cheeks, watching with glee as cries break out of his throat, eyes scrunching tight, cum spilling out of him. You suck on his tip indulgently as he comes in your mouth, cock still pulsing while strings of incoherent promises fall out of him. He strokes your hair tenderly as he slowly comes to himself.

Matty cracks an eye open. He falls out of your mouth and you swallow his seed, watching him as you promised as you lick your lips. Another rough moan leaves him, half stitled by a chuckle. Ringed finger swipes your chin, gathering a forgotten rope of cum he shoves back in your mouth. You suck on it.

He seems to realize then you still haven’t come. Face grimacing in shame, he grabs you by the armpits, putting you back in his lap. “Poor baby. You’re so close, aren’t you?”

“Please,” you whine.

Matty pouts, nodding indulgently. “It’s okay. I got you.”

He sneaks two fingers in your pants. You should be ashamed by the amount of wetness; sticking thighs greeting him home. You’re too gone for that, of course, just sighing happily as he rubs tight circles on your clit.

Your head falls on his shoulder. “I know,” he says, imitating your spineless whine, thrusting two fingers inside of you. You’re so wet there’s not even any resistance, cunt opening to let him in easily.

His thumb continues his drawings on your bundle of nerves. He fucks his fingers into you, rapid and wild. You’re close again before you have time finishing a coherent thought, moaning in his open mouth.

“Right there,” Matty encourages. “Come for me.”

Your body shudders as you scream. You finally lose the tyrannical strings holding your body together. Euphoria spreads to each limb, making your head fall back as the edges of the world blur around you. Tension leaves your body in wiping waves. You flutter around his fingers, clenching and unclenching as you cry out his name.

It takes you a few moments to come back to Earth. Matty takes his fingers out of you, wiping the wetness on the couch. You slap at his shoulders, but he simply laughs. “I love you,” he whispers in your hair, bending down to kiss you.

When you finally regain control of your legs, you stand up to reach your mixing board. Hitting pause, and then play, Matty’s needy groans fill the studio. You throw him a look over your shoulder, but not even a pornographic recording of him could make Matty Healy blush.

And, maybe your fifth album features a song named Blow You. Maybe deep, masculine sounds of pleasure accompany the chorus ⁠— just out of reach enough for people to be incapable of pinning it down. Maybe countless news outlets try to figure out, articles upon articles attempting to elucidate if it really is your boyfriend, Matty Healy, moaning on the track. Maybe they call you by your name. Maybe they even call you a genderbending, masterful, classic rockstar.

#matty healy #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine #the 1975 #the 1975 smut #matty healy x reader #smut #writing #filthy filth #i'm sorry lol #rockstar girlfriend

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babyblue711 · 9 months

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Redemption

Will (Salad Days) x Reader - Part 4 Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 Summary: You and Will take a weekend getaway to Manchester and enjoy some time away from home. You reconnect once more, deepening your bond after the hardships you've been through together. Words: 6.0K

Warnings: NSFW, smut, language, sexual content (18+), anal fingering, alcohol, brief mention of divorce A/N: Alas, the final chapter. When I set out to write this fic, I only intended it as a one-shot and never expected it to turn into 4 chapters! After the trauma that I've made you all endure for the last 3 parts, enjoy something a little more light-hearted. From the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU ALL for loving this fic as much as I do. I sincerely appreciate it so much. My beta's are incredible: @megatardisbaby and @arcielee. And thank you to @assortedseaglass for letting me pick your brain and for encouraging me to tell this story from day one. Dividers by @firefly-graphic

The lighting in your hotel bathroom casts a warm glow as you focus on your reflection in the mirror, pleased with the way your hair cascades into perfect curls, framing your face elegantly. You'd spent a bit of extra time getting ready for tonight and the effort showed. As you apply the final touches of mascara, the door creaks open and Will peeks in, checking to see if you are close to being ready yet.

A soft smile plays on your lips as you see him standing there. You can’t help but appreciate how handsome he looks in his dark green button up shirt with long sleeves and black trousers; his tousled hair added a hint of casual charm to his otherwise polished appearance. It was the last night of your short weekend getaway to Manchester and you were splurging by going to a nice restaurant; you made sure he packed the proper clothes so he could dress the part.

He leans against the doorframe and admires you in the mirror, eyes drinking in your appearance.

“Like what you see?” you tease playfully. As you look at him in the mirror, you swear his blue eyes turn a shade or two darker, lust pooling in his pupils.

“I definitely do,” his voice is a little huskier than usual as he comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning down to place a kiss on your neck, sending a delightful shiver up your spine.

You move your head to the side to allow him better access to your neck; you’re still wearing your towel from your shower since you prefer to do your hair and makeup first and get dressed last. He trails kisses down your neck and along your shoulder as he reaches for your towel, opening it and finding nothing on underneath.

“Is this how you’re going to dinner? Naked wrapped in a towel?” he asks cheekily, his lips still on your neck as his hands start to slide over your hips and up your sides.

Your breath catches in your chest as the heat from his hands running across your ribs seems to radiate right to your core and you make an effort to remember your dinner reservations; you need to focus on getting ready so you wouldn’t be late. But his touch is addictive, the best drug you’ve ever had.

He knows exactly what he’s doing to you too as he nudges your legs apart with his knee and reaches for your slit, his chin now resting on your shoulder; you both watch in the mirror as he runs his fingers through your wet folds, slowly, sensually. Your heavily lidded eyes flick up to meet his gaze as you let out a soft moan.

“How ‘bout a quickie before dinner?” he murmurs in your ear, playing with your bud as his other hand removes your towel completely and starts to caress your breasts.

Your head falls back on his shoulder as you watch him touch you and you sigh softly. “Yes, but we gotta make it fast.”

“Can do,” he says before spinning you around and lifting you easily onto the bathroom counter. You worry briefly about his clothes since he’s already dressed for dinner and you don’t want to ruin them as he pulls his thick cock out, which is already standing proudly, veins popping, head weeping. He pulls his pants to his thighs and you lift his shirt to keep it out of the way.

You sit at the edge and spread your legs for him, leaning back towards your elbows, the marble of the countertop cold on your ass. It’s not the most comfortable position, but it’ll have to do as Will takes the head of his cock and lines it up with your entrance, sheathing it inside of you in one fluid thrust.

You both groan in unison; you as his thick cock stretches your wet, velvet walls, almost to the point of pain, and Will, as your tight, warm pussy squeezes around him, enveloping him completely. He stills for a moment and his lips move to your breasts, alternating between each nipple as he takes them into his mouth and sucks lightly, while his other hand slides down to play with your pearl. You run your fingers through his hair as his tongue tantalizes your nipples.

He bites down and sucks gently on the skin of your breast causing you to arch further into his face. Your head falls back and hits the mirror; a dull gong sound filling the small bathroom space and you press your lips together to keep from chuckling. Will seems oblivious as he starts to rock his hips into you and sets a steady pace. From your propped-up position on the counter, you can see his long, thick cock gliding in and out of you, glistening with your juices. Fascinated, you sit up a little more to get a better view.

“Like what you see?” Will echoes your earlier question gruffly as he notices you watching.

“Hmm,” you half purr, half moan in response and decide to give him a little squeeze with your pussy, purposefully clenching your walls around his cock as hard as you can; his thrusts stutter a bit as his eyes flick up to yours and you smirk at him.

“Fuckin’ hell woman,” he growls, voice deep and low and picks up his pace, snapping his hips into yours, the sound of skin slapping together and squelching noises from your wet core fill the bathroom.

You mewl and lean back again, the pleasure building deep from within as Will continues his brutal pace, his thumb moving to circle your pearl furiously. You close your eyes and get lost in the sensation of him moving deep inside of you, filling you up, his cock grinding consistently against your g-spot with every thrust; you concentrate to bring your pleasure forth, knowing you have limited time to reach your peak. Your breathing starts to pick up as your orgasm approaches; Will hears the difference in your breath and begins encouraging you, knowing that you’re close.

“You have the most beautiful little cunt I’ve ever seen,” he growls through gritted teeth as he feels your walls start to pulse around him, “Taking me so well. C’mon, Y/N, cum for me,” he grunts as he pistons his hips into yours.

His relentless thrusts tip you over the edge and you cry aloud with his name on your lips as pleasure rips through your core; your legs tremble from the force of your orgasm and your arms shake from holding yourself in this position. A visible ripple moves in the muscles of your lower belly as your pussy clenches around his cock; Will watches in fascination how your body shakes and quivers under him as you come undone.

He continues to pound into you, extending your pleasure with every deep thrust against your sensitive walls. When you finally stop shaking and lay limp, he pulls out and paints your belly with his spend.

You both are breathing heavily as he gets the wet washcloth from the shower to clean you up. You watch him wipe you clean as you try to catch your breath, admiring the way he always takes care of you afterwards. Focused on his task, he doesn’t seem to notice your gaze. Once you’re clean, he leans down and kisses your clit, the gesture making you jump as little as his lips brush against your sensitive core.

He then leans up to give you a light kiss on the lips. “I love it when you scream my name,” he mumbles against your mouth and you can’t help but smile into his kiss.

“How much time do we have left, Will?” you ask as he picks you up off the counter and sets you back on the floor.

He checks his watch. “About 10 minutes,” he says with a grin, knowing you need at least double that to finish getting ready.

“Fuck,” you curse under your breath as you hurry out of the bathroom to get dressed, leaving Will to tuck himself back into his pants and straighten his own clothes.

You sit across from Will at dinner, feeling pride that you managed to make your reservation on time and reminisce about your trip together. The soft candlelight casts a warm glow around you, creating an intimate setting for your meal; it was certainly the nicest restaurant you had been to in some time.

Will seems a little out of his element, but he seems to be taking it in stride. You smile a little to yourself as you watch him as he looks over the menu, knowing he’d prefer a simple meal of fish and chips or a hamburger compared to anything written there. You sigh in contentment; you were right to think that a trip would have done you both good. Getting away from home and work was refreshing, a break that was long overdue for you both.

Although touristy, you both had enjoyed taking a boat trip along the city’s historic canals and exploring the Northern Quarter, known for its architecture, street art, unique boutiques and quirky cafes. You loved being able to explore the city together with Will and you were pleased that the two of you traveled well together; he was the relaxed, easy-going one, ready to do anything on a whim, whereas you were the one with the checklist to make sure you saw all the things that you wanted to see and ensuring you had the proper reservations and arrival time…unless sex took precedence, of course.

You order with the waiter and sip your glass of wine while you and Will discuss memories from the last few days. He looks so handsome in the low light and you were thankful you managed not to ruin his button down shirt since he had only brought one with him, the glint of his silver necklace is just visible around his collar. His hair is a little ruffled from when you ran your fingers through it during your quickie, but the look suits him well. You reach under the table and rub your high heeled foot up and down his leg; his eyes immediately snap to yours and you smirk as you take another sip of wine, arching an eyebrow at him.

“You’re insatiable,” he growls lowly so the other diners can’t hear, his eyes dancing in amusement.

“Oh…you have no idea,” you promise seductively and raise your foot to brush his inner thigh, thankful that the floor length white tablecloth hid what you were doing to him under the table. He shifts a little in his seat as your foot brushes along the sensitive part of his thigh and he grabs hold of your ankle to stop your movements further, giving you a “behave or else” type of look, his eyes glinting with amused malice. You grin in satisfaction at your small victory and remove your foot from his thigh.

Perhaps it was the distance from all the pain and trauma that came from being home in Nottingham, but you and Will had gotten back on track with your sex life during your trip, acting like ravenous, horny teenagers from the amount of times you had coupled in the last few days. You were well satisfied but, with him, it would never be enough.

After dinner, you walk hand in hand back towards the hotel. As you pass by, the vibrance of Canal St. catches your attention and you can’t help but pull Will along behind you, wanting to explore. The pedestrian street is crowded as you stroll by sophisticated cocktail lounges and lively dance clubs pulsating with music. The atmosphere thrums with energy and excitement and you can’t help but feel caught up in it all, helped along with the bottle of wine you and Will had consumed at dinner. Although neither of you were really “nightlife” or “club-going” people anymore, you spot a cute and cozy pub as you make your way toward Richmond St and you convince Will to stop in for one last drink before heading back into the hotel for the night.

Stepping into the bar, you find yourself instantly captivated by its charm. The soft, warm glow of dim lighting casts a welcoming ambiance over the wooden interior, giving it an inviting and intimate feel. The clinking of glasses and lively conversations of the other patrons create a soft hum in the background. You and Will approach the bar and order a drink and you notice a live band is setting up, getting ready to play for the evening. Once you have your drinks in hand, you find a comfy corner to snuggle into where you can observe the band and people-watch easily.

Sipping your drinks, you both enjoy the live band as you watch couples engage in animated conversations and groups of friends laughing and toasting. Not long after your arrival, a commotion comes through the door, slightly disrupting the relaxed atmosphere of the bar.

A loud and excitable hen-do party bustles into the cozy pub and makes their way to the bar. The bride is dressed in white while her bridesmaids were all in pink dresses with sashes, marking them as part of the bridal party. They obviously had come from nearby Canal St. which is normally the more popular area for hen-dos. They must have been bar-hopping for some time before stopping into this particular pub, as the volume of their voices, stumbling feet, and constant laughter was an obvious giveaway that they were all quite drunk.

Once they’ve been served, they choose to sit down not far from you and Will, but they seem a little more reserved once they’ve been sat with their drinks, talking cheerily amongst themselves. After the next song, you get up to use the restroom, passing by the group of girls on your way.

When you head back to your seat, you notice the table where the girls were sitting is empty except for the bride and one other bridesmaid, and, as you look over in your corner that you had shared with Will, you don’t see him there either. Concerned, your eyes scan the room and quickly find him standing at the bar, surrounded by three of the bridesmaids from the group.

You figure he must have just gotten up to get you both another drink, but you hesitate for a moment, watching him surrounded by these girls. Drunk and rowdy, they have long since stopped worrying about other people’s personal space as one of them is quite literally hanging off his left arm, looking up at him with big doe-eyes, another is standing directly behind him, almost as if she’s trying to box him in, and a third is on his right side, pressing her back up against the tall bar and arching her voluptuous tits right into his face.

You’re momentarily stunned to see these girls hanging all over your man. Ordinarily, you weren’t the jealous type, but in this moment, you couldn’t help but think, What the fuck? Why wasn’t Will telling them to get off him?

You continue to watch him, debating whether you need to step in or not, as you see him smile and speak to the girl hanging on his arm as she swings her long, chocolate brown hair over her shoulder, and your heartbeat picks up a little. His body language is a little stiff at their proximity, but he certainly isn’t telling them to move.

You decide to go back to your corner and watch him from afar as you resume your seat and cross your arms, glaring in his direction. They are all talking to him animatedly and you see his head nodding and moving, indicating he is interacting back. Suddenly, the girl with the big tits reaches for his collar, pulling his silver necklace from underneath his shirt and holding it in her palm. Your eyes widen as you gape at her audacity of the intimate gesture, and you almost get up to give her a piece of your mind. Before you can move, Will pulls away from her, gently taking his pendant from her grasp and putting it back in his shirt as he shakes his head a little, just as the bartender sets two drinks down in front of him.

The girl on the left seems to notice the two drinks and you see her lips move as she asks him something and he nods back in your direction, briefly making eye contact with you. You see all three girls turn to look at you and you return their look with an icy glare of your own. Their faces fall noticeably as Will finally manages to shrug them off and heads back to your corner with the drinks.

He seems oblivious to the tension rolling off of you in waves as he sets your drink down in front of you. A small smile plays on his lips and he seems lost in thought, pleased about something. He takes his seat and glances up at you, finally taking in your expression and the stiff way you have your arms folded across your chest.

“Enjoying the attention?” you say in a dangerous tone, eyes full of fire; although you do secretly acknowledge that the alcohol you had consumed that night might be fueling your ire a little more than usual, given the situation.

“Wha’?” he seems confused and instantly you feel a prick of annoyance at having to explain the obvious.

You lean in close so he can hear you over the boom of the band as they start up another song. “Those girls were practically hanging off of you,” you yell into his ear. “And you let them…and what’s up with that one with the big tits grabbing your necklace?!” you say all annoyed, glaring at him reproachfully.

“One had big tits?” Will asks genuinely, looking at you with clueless big eyes. You give him a stern look, how could he not have noticed?

“They’re just drunk and having fun. It didn’t mean anything...I didn’t want to be rude,” he shrugs like nothing happened.

“Oh really? What did they say to you?” you ask because you’re nosy and you want to know more.

He shifts in his seat, a tad uncomfortable now. “Well…they didn’t know I was with you obviously, but they came up to me and weren’t shy about wanting me to go back to their place for the night,” he refuses to meet your gaze for a moment as he sips his drink.

You glare daggers at him and he finally looks over at you and smirks, his demeanor smug. He leans back over to shout into your ear over the sound of the music.

“C’mon, love, you’re better than this. Don’t be jealous over a bunch of drunk girls,” he says into your ear, his hand coming up to cup your face sweetly, “If anything, they are jealous of you, since you’re the one I’ll be fucking later tonight.”

Although still slightly perturbed at their boldness, you feel your icy glare melt under his warm gaze as you absorb his words. You relent, smirking a little as you look back over to their table. They’ve moved on to another group of guys at the bar who seem way more eager to have their attention than Will did a few minutes ago. You take a deep breath and realize you made it more serious than it actually was, although you were also still a little annoyed at the pleased look that Will had worn from their attention.

You turn back to him and look up into his eyes. He leans in and gives you a kiss, soft but firm, that you return eagerly, enjoying his rare display of PDA. “Finish your drink and we’ll go,” he says, “I didn’t mean to upset you,” his gaze is apologetic.

You sigh, “It’s okay, Will,” you lean in for another quick kiss.

Perhaps you were spurred on by the alcohol you had consumed that night, or maybe you just wanted to antagonize the bridal party that kept looking back at you in the corner. But after he breaks the kiss, he takes a sip of beer and you use the opportunity to lean into him, your lips on his neck, just below his ear, hand reaching in between his thighs and rubbing his crotch provocatively. In the low light, you figured it would be difficult to see exactly what you were doing to him anyway, but you didn’t care. He almost chokes on his beer at your unexpected touch, immediately grabbing your hand, holding it safely in his grasp.

“Well, you better hurry because I’m already wet,” you say seductively into his ear, knowing which buttons to push to drive him wild. You lean away, watching your touch and your words take the intended effect on Will almost immediately.

His gaze burns into yours, his eyes darkening as he watches you take two large gulps of your cocktail, rushing on purpose and giving him a look that simply says hurry up.

Not needing any more encouragement than that, he chugs his beer and finishes the same time you polish off your drink. You get up, barely able to keep your hands off of each other. You don’t even glance at the bridal party as you leave with him, hand in hand. What did they matter after all?

Stumbling through the door of your hotel room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp welcomes you back warmly from your night out on the town. You can't help but smile as you continue your passionate embrace with Will, the electric energy between you both is palpable. The earlier touches and kisses in the elevator were just a prelude to what you knew was coming next. Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the intoxicating pleasure of being with each other.

Your lips meet again, hungry and eager, as your tongues battle for dominance against the other. You can taste the beer on his breath and the cigarette he had on the way back to the hotel. He takes your face in both of his hands and pushes you up against the wall, his body leans into yours, trapping you. Your hands reach down to pull out his shirt that’s tucked into his pants, reaching for his belt, impatient as always.

He suddenly removes his hands from your face and reaches to clasp yours that are now working to undo the top button of his pants. He takes your wrists in each hand and pulls them above your head, pressing his body into you further, grinding his pelvis into you. You already feel how hard and ready he is, the slick forming between your thighs as you grind back against him. You moan into his mouth, his tongue sliding over yours, tasting the sweet taste of your cocktail on your lips.

He grasps both of your wrists easily with one hand, still held above your head, and his other hand travels down your body, pulling up your dress until his fingers find your damp center.

You moan into his touch and spread your legs a little as he moves your panties to the side, his fingers sliding over your wet folds. He suddenly inserts a finger inside of you, sending electric sparks up your spine as he languidly moves his finger in and out of you, watching your face with heavily hooded eyes. Your breathing picks up as he adds a second finger, reaching deep inside for that special spot, crooking his fingers as he easily finds your g-spot and rubs it repeatedly.

You pant into his mouth and your knees buckle as the pleasure of his touch courses through you; the only thing truly holding you up is his grip on your wrists and his body pressing you into the wall. He grunts into your kiss as you bite down on his bottom lip, continuing to work his fingers inside of you, lewd noises from your soaked pussy filling the room. You love it when his fingers are deep inside of you, his only goal being to focus on your pleasure. Your orgasm starts to build and your knees buckle further, your legs have become jelly as your pending release coils low in your belly.

“Please, Will,” you beg into his mouth, he knows you won’t be able to stand by yourself if your orgasm hits you while being trapped against this accursed wall. He relents, removing his offending fingers from your pussy, still holding you against the wall with one hand as he brings his fingers covered in your slick up to his mouth and licks them clean.

“Hmm,” he groans, low in his throat, “you always taste so fucking delicious.” Your breath catches in your throat and more slick forms between your thighs as you watch him savoring your taste on his fingers.

Once he lets go of your wrists, you immediately kick off your shoes; your heels are making your feet hurt. You walk over to the bed, pulling your hair to the side.

“Unzip me,” you say softly as Will has now kicked off his own shoes, coming to stand behind you. He undoes the little cinch and slowly slides the zipper down; the dress falls to the floor by your feet and you kick it off to the side.

His fingers effortlessly undo the clasp of your bra and you pull your panties off while he takes off his shirt and you turn to help him out of his trousers. He still has his boxers on while you’re completely naked.

He turns you back around to face the bed, still standing. His warm body presses into your back and he slides his hands up your hips and over your ribs, caressing your breasts with both hands as his lips find your neck and shoulder. You moan and lean back into him, arching your chest up into his hands as he alternates between rolling your nipples between his fingers and kneading your breasts.

Impatient with lust singing in your veins, you climb onto the bed, turning back around to face Will and laying on your belly on the bed facing him. You are eye-level with his cock as you pull down his boxers and take him in hand.

You hear his breath hitch as your small hand pumps him a few times, swiping your thumb over the sensitive head. You suckle at his cock eagerly, licking and coating it in saliva before taking him completely in your wet, hot mouth. Will grunts in pleasure as you swirl your tongue over the tip, you try taking him as far as you can. He lets out a groan and suddenly thrusts into you until the head hits the back of your throat. You choke a little and give him an admonishing look.

He smirks down at you. “Is there something you’d like to say?” he whispers darkly as he thrusts into your mouth once more, gentler this time; he’s antagonizing you, knowing you can’t answer with your mouth full of him. He tangles his fingers into your hair, “I know you can take this cock,” he says as he continues fucking your mouth.

Well two can play this game, you think wickedly to yourself and a muffled chuckle escapes your lips despite your full mouth. You moan around his length, pulling him out of your mouth until only the sensitive tip is left. Very gently, you brush your teeth against the tip and shaft as you work your way back down.

You hear his breath catch at the sensation of your teeth on his cock and you look up at him innocently, giving him a I’m the one that has you by the balls type of look; you reach and cup his balls just for emphasis, massaging gently.

He grunts and backs away from you, pulling his cock out of your mouth. His gaze is dark as you sit up on the bed, but before you can move, he’s sweeping you to the middle of the bed, pushing your face into the fluffy, white comforter and bringing your ass in the air.

You smile into the sheets; you knew this was a small punishment of sorts for assuming control of him for a moment, but you didn’t care; you would take all that he gave you and still want more. Plus, doggy was one of your favorite positions. Will is kneeling behind you and you spread your legs apart and arch your back, waiting for his large cock to fill you up.

Instead, you feel a stinging slap to your rear end and you yelp in surprise, your head coming up off the bed. He pushes you back down as he rubs his palm over the sore spot, soothing it.

“That,” Will pants, “is punishment for what you just did with your teeth.” All you can manage is a moan in response. You feel his cock at your entrance and he pushes inside, shallowly thrusting until he buries himself to the hilt, immersing himself completely inside your tight, wet cunt.

You whimper pitifully, the angle of this position causing him to rub against your g-spot almost immediately as you relish the feeling of him deep inside of you, filling you up, two puzzle pieces becoming one again.

He stills for a moment before landing another blow on your behind, harder this time, and you yelp again, sucking in a sharp breath.

“And that is for being jealous over nothing,” he growls, grabbing you by the back of the hair, dragging your body up so you’re flush against his body, your neck pulled back, held by your hair.

“You’re gonna take what I give you and you’re gonna love every second of it,” he purrs into your ear as he starts thrusting harshly into you, pumping in and out of you. You mewl pathetically, lost in the sensation of his hold on your hair, the feeling of his thick cock moving deep inside you; your mind becomes hazy with lust and desire and you love it when he takes control.

His hips snap into yours harshly for a few moments and then he unexpectedly slows, letting go of your hair; you fall back onto your elbows as you feel him pull apart your ass cheeks, bringing his cock almost all the way out to the tip and then driving back into you slowly. You know he’s watching himself slide in and out of your tight, wet hole and you’re a little envious that he’s the only one that gets to enjoy the view. You groan in pleasure at the thought.

“I love watching your pussy take this dick.” He’s extra talkative tonight, alcohol loosening his tongue more than usual as he continues his slow deep thrusts, driving you crazy since you normally crave a faster pace with more friction. Suddenly, you feel pressure on your rim, an area you and Will haven’t explored yet. You jerk at the unexpected sensation and look back, where he smirks confidently at you.

“I think you can take a finger,” he says and you watch him spit directly onto your asshole, his thumb massaging around it.

“Will, I swear to god, you have to go slow,” you finally find your voice; you’re down to try anything but that wasn’t what you were expecting for tonight. You reach down and start playing with your clit, Will still moving his cock slowly in and out of you, his thumb pressing down on your rim.

He takes your warning seriously, “If it hurts, tell me and I’ll stop,” he says softly, a break in his dominant facade. You nod, knowing Will would never hurt you.

Between the pleasure of your stimulated clit and Will rocking consistently against your g-spot, you don’t notice any pain as he ever so slowly inserts his thumb into your puckered hole. He adds more spit as he presses in until he’s knuckle deep.

“How’s that?” he asks, checking in.

It’s certainly an odd sensation but you feel pleasantly full, having felt no pain. You find it erotic, feeling Will’s thick cock stretching your pussy and his thumb pressed into your ass; you love the way Will consumes every part of you, body and soul.

You moan, desire coursing through you, “Oh my god, Will, that’s so good.” He picks up the pace with his thrusts again as you circle your clit furiously, pleasure building deep within.

Hips snapping into yours, your orgasm builds low in your belly and you moan loudly with each thrust as his cock rubs along your g-spot.

“So. Fucking. Tight,” Will grunts with each thrust, sending you closer to the edge. “Why would I want any other pussy when I have yours?” he says almost to himself.

You groan louder, “Harder, Will, I need more,” you beg him pathetically.

He responds by pounding into you so hard he pushes you up the bed. You anchor your elbows down as he drives relentlessly into you, wiggling his thumb a little within your tight, puckered hole, his other hand on your hip in a bruising grip to keep you still.

You both are panting harshly as he fucks you, hard, just like you asked. Your breathing turns ragged as the coil finally snaps and your orgasm breaks over you like a tsunami wave, pleasure crashing through you, completely consumed by the intensity as it infiltrates every particle of your body. Your pussy clenches down on his cock and you cry aloud, wailing as he continues to thrust into you.

Will rides out your pleasure until you stop shaking and mewling underneath him, pulling out and spilling his seed directly onto your asshole. Panting heavily, he spreads your cheeks apart and admires the sight of your throbbing, well-fucked pussy and his cum on your ass.

“Took me like a champ,” he says under his breath, squeezing your ass cheeks one final time before finally letting you go as you collapse onto the bed. He collapses next to you and you both spend a few minutes panting and catching your breath, before he gets up to get a towel.

You hear the water turn on in the sink and decide to follow him to the bathroom, not caring if his cum leaks out of your ass along the way.

He’s washing his hands when you come in and glances up, surprise reflected in his expression in the mirror. Without saying anything, you stand behind him and wrap your arms around his middle from behind, hugging him, both of you still completely naked as you press your cheek against his warm back.

He finishes washing and drying his hands and rubs your arms that are clasped around his stomach.

“Hey,” he says softly, “Everything okay?”

He turns in your arms so that you’re face to face and he embraces you back as you look up and meet his eyes.

“Thank you,” you say simply, you can’t really convey what you’re feeling at the moment, but all you know is how grateful and lucky you are to have someone like him. You never expected to ever find anyone suitable again after your divorce and reconnecting with him was truly such a blessing.

He looks down into your face and your serious expression. “For what?” he asks.

“For loving me,” you say quietly into his chest as you press your cheek against his cross pendant.

He snorts softly in disbelief. “It’s me that should be thanking you for loving me,” he says sincerely as he rests his chin on top of your head and hugs you closer.

You swallow thickly, you don’t want to cry in this moment, but he just means so much to you.

“Always,” you mumble into his chest hair and he kisses the top of your head.

You didn’t know what the universe had in store for you and Will. But as you stood there in that bathroom, you knew that you were right where you were meant to be.

Tags: @peonamay @quinnquinn317 @multyfangirl @aemondsscar @pandemonium105 @cyeco13 @chainsawsangel @sylas-the-grim @boundlessfantasy @bellaisasleep @myfandomprompts

#ewan mitchell #will salad days #will salad days fanfic #salad days #smut

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

Note

part 2 of the 1940's fic with simon please 😭

I think we all need it...LOL

make sure you're taking care of yourself, though! we love you ❤

Jubilee Line | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: i can’t lie to y’all. this has been done for like two months, but i have been tweaking it and am still somehow still unhappy with it? it’s fine. i’m fine. i’m being an ass. PART THREE SOON I PROMISE (i have been taking care of myself, thanks babe!)

warnings: SET IN 1940’s AU. Mentions of war, sort of accurate WW2 event dates. Mentions of being a Prisoner of War, mentions of torture.

summary: Lieutenant Simon Riley was coming home. He was finally coming home to his beautiful wife, but little did he know that at the end of his journey, there would only be heartbreak.

This is the second part to You Leave Me Wounded and Bleeding!

“Hermano.”

Simon’s eyes flickered up from the ring in between his fingers, tugging it slightly on his leather ID tags. Alejandro looked at the ring before meeting Simon’s eyes.

“Married?”

The Lieutenant nodded, looking back to the ring, seeing how the once polished gold was now rough and scratched. He thought to polish it when he arrived home, hoping the jeweler in town was still there.

“How is Manchester, then?” Alejandro continued the interrogation, talking a lot more than he ever had before. Before the train ride across England, before the Japanese POW camp they were captive in, before the Pacific Theater. “And your wife? Any niños?”

Simon scratched his jaw a little, still staring at the ring. “No.” He’s thought about it when he was away - maybe it wasn’t so bad to have children to come home to. His wife was expected to have children by her young age and she was nervous about it, he was too. “Not yet, at least.” He wanted a daughter that looked just like his wife, wide smile and beautiful eyes. She would be named Winnie, short for Winter - a name that meant a lot to him.

“That’s too bad, hermano. Children are gifts,” He reminisced as he sat back in his train seat. Simon was all too aware of the emptiness of the train cabin now, noticing again that there was barely a handful of people on this train due to the amount of body bags in the other cars. It was a funeral train, and Simon could feel the ghosts all around him. Alejandro spoke again, “I used to take care of my little sister when I was young. I couldn’t imagine living without my family.”

“Are you married?” Simon gruffly pestered, the man opposite of him shrugged.

“Not yet.”

Simon hummed in response, his head then turned towards the window - rain pelted the glass. He let the ring fall, it hit his uniform with a dull thud. He wished then for the photo of her he usually kept in his breast pocket above his heart, but the camp had burned his last uniform and in turn, his last photo of you.

His friend cleared his throat, Simon did not move his gaze. “How long since you’ve been home?”

“Two and a half years.” The man answered, now settling his hands on his thighs. “Was sent home for six months since I was one of the first deployed from England.”

“Hermano, you have a lifetime of being on your knees and begging for forgiveness.” Alejandro’s boot hit his, Simon looked back to him. His friend sat forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. “You have a lot to make up for.”

Simon grunted in response, sitting back against his seat. “She’s waiting for me.”

Alejandro huffed with a smirk, shaking his head. “Estás tan seguro. Eres un tonto.” He wiped his face before continuing, “No wife should have to wait that long. It’s rough being alone for so long, and waiting for someone you don’t know is alive or dead?” He sighed again. “La habrá destrozado.”

“See, you’re speakin’ all this Spanish, and won’t tell me what you mean.” The Lieutenant glared at him.

“You’re a pendejo. A fool.” Alejandro pulled a Lucky Strike cigarette from his jacket, handing it to Simon.

He nodded and took it, still waiting for Alejandro to speak so he could demolish his idea. “Yeah? Why’s that?” He pulled out the brand new Zippo lighter from his pocket, flicking it open and igniting a flame. He held it out for Alejandro, who had his cigarette in his teeth and leaned forwards - lighting his. He sat back when he was content with his cigarette, pulling a drag while Simon lit his.

Alejandro blew the smoke from his mouth, crossed his ankles and spoke. “You should have let her go.” Simon’s eyes darkened. The Colonel glared at him before sitting forwards again, letting his cigarette settle between his fingers. “That is torture, being away from the one you love for so long. I’ve done it - it’s not something you can be fine with. It’s impossible to be okay if you’ll never know if they’re coming home in a uniform or a casket, hermano.”

“Been through it with ya fiancé?”

He leaned over to the wall of the cab, tapping his ashes into the ashtray. “Twice.”

Simon did the same, taking another drag before answering, “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Alejandro blew a huff through his nose, eyes glaring at the Lieutenant. “You always have your soldiers go first, even though you have the priority.”

“Those muppets have kids, I don’t.” Ghost’s voice was flat, taking another drag and letting the smoke coil from his mouth.

“That’s the issue.” Alejandro kicked Ghost’s foot again. “You still have your wife.”

Dark eyes glared at the Colonel.

Alejandro continued. “You still had someone waiting for you.”

“Have, Vargas.” The man tapped the ashes of his cigarette in the ashtray before sitting straight up against his seat. “You’re wrong about her.” He took a long drag then, eyes staring out of the window, noticing how the trees and rainy fields turned into the outer city of Manchester. His heart jumped in his chest then, ready to jump out of the train and run home without any of his measly belongings.

He was ready to see you, his wife. Ready to settle his hands on her cheeks, kiss her like she had sculpted the sun with her bare hands. He was ready to hold her head to his chest, press her body into his because he had missed her. He wanted to hold her, tell her how he would make it up to her. Repaint the guest room, replace doors, get a dog, redo the siding. Anything she wanted, just so he could feel her skin underneath his fingertips.

The Colonel only hummed, taking a short drag before blowing the smoke through his nose. “You’re going to get hurt, hermano. I’d hate to see it.”

Simon finished speaking then, decided that if he were to continue, he’d pin Alejandro to his seat and press his knife into his friend’s throat. So, he took another long drag, watching as green trees went past with nothing but a whisper to the wind.

It was another hour before he had arrived at the Manchester Train Station, barely anyone stood in waiting for soldiers - he took in the familiar sight he hadn’t seen in years and scanned the crowd for his wife.

“Is she here?” Alejandro’s voice sounded from beside him.

Simon grunted. “Don’t see her. She’ll be at the house if she’s not here.”

“Okay.” Alejandro nodded as Simon walked forwards, his pace incredibly fast while the Colonel muttered, “Rezo por tu corazón, hermano.”

Simon didn’t take the time to admire how the streets were full of life, how the trees began to dim their lush colors - how as he got closer to his home, there was a ice cold thrum in his heart.

The lights were off, he noticed. He was halfway down his street, almost home - he could almost smell that perfume she loved so much. Alejandro was far behind, finally deciding to let Simon run home.

He stumbled up the porch, his hand engulfed the front door knob and he tried to twist it - it was locked. He growled in frustration before he looked up to the porch light shaped like a lantern and pulled up the little hood, digging his hand around until his fingers grasped the spare key. He didn’t even put the key back when he unlocked the door, shoving the door in and dropping his dufflebag to the floor.

He called your name, awaiting the sound of footsteps when his wife fluttered down the stairs. He waited in the foyer for a moment, nothing but silence canvased the house. His eyebrows furrowed, he walked forwards and into the kitchen - he almost walked into the living room to call his wife’s name again when he noticed a folded piece of paper, leaned against an old vase on the kitchen counter. He strode straight for it, only to take it in his hand.

Dear Simon,

I am writing to you this in case something happens. Something I cannot think about, something that can very well happen and I don’t wish to dwell upon it. These words are the only way I can express it if I am no longer able to voice them.

You’ve written me almost every week during this horrible time, about every thought and moment that caused you pain. It hurts me to know that I cannot ease your agony. It pains me that I cannot be by your side, even for a fleeting moment. You have such a kind soul, Simon Riley. I can only imagine how it will all of this affect you after the war.

Even long after your letters have stopped arriving, no British Army soldiers have appeared upon our doorstep yet - no telegrams have graced my fingers with your name upon them. That must mean something, right? That you are safe, breathing? For the past two and a half years, I’ve waited for your return; not to mention the three years before that. The danger is gone now, Simon, and you’re not here. They’ve been arriving by the train load for the past week, and none of the lists have your name. I musn’t worry, I know you will come back to me. You have a habit of keeping promises, my love - as well as secrets.

I’ve heard stories from wives, whispers among the streets about some soldiers coming home and no longer being themselves. They’re hollow, lifeless - I’ve seen a few myself. It is like the undead have invaded Manchester, they walk about with no emotion in their eye, no care for their family as they walk beside them. I’ve watched them from our bookstore, watching as their small children tug on their father’s hands and he vaguely responds with a lifeless smile, sending them away from himself. Their wives do not give away any note of worry, perfect smiles and small touches to their husbands as if to comfort them in a small way. It’s not hard to recognize the wife’s pain, it’s a pain I hope I will never know.

I’m scared, Simon. Terrified, really. What if you do not step off that train tomorrow? What will I do if I must return home in silence, no longer in your grasp? No longer sleep without the knowledge that you’ll be coming home? Well, I suppose I haven’t had that knowledge since February, but it still feels crushing to say. What will I do if you return to me and you are no longer yourself? I know war must change a man but I’m not sure how I will live if I never see your smile again.

What will I do if you do not return? Will I become like the hundreds of widowed wives, crying forever and waiting for their husband’s remains to return home? Will I be able to go to the plaza everyday, knowing that you’ve touched this place before? Will I be able to stay in our home that you’ve put sweat and blood into, just for us? I can’t think anymore of it.

I don’t think I could ever understand it, that I would ever want to. We’ve talked about it, but it still doesn’t make the ache in my soul any lighter. I cannot think of you anymore, it feels like my heart is playing a melancholy tune on a piano well beyond its years; playing a song I never knew it had memorized. And it’s like my fingers are stuck to the keys, dancing ever so slowly as if the crescendo in the sheet music keeps darting away. The climax of our story hasn’t even crossed the page yet; I keep playing this haunted tune and I don’t want to anymore. I want to rip my fingers from the keys and push myself away from the piano. But I only play this tune as I wait for you, only when you’re away from me. What will I do if this will be the only song I can play for the rest of my life?

My mother sent for me. This morning, actually. I was sitting in the study, going through the mail. My father is dying back home in America, and I must go. But I feel that I cannot leave here without knowing. I cannot leave our home without knowing if I get to kiss you or kiss the stone that will lay above your head.

I’ve wondered what it would be like for you if I leave for America this very moment. You place your key into the lock, twisting it and opening up the front door. The house would be dark, no warmth from the fireplace, nothing to signal that I would be home. Maybe you would think I abandoned you, maybe you would think I had perished. But, I know you. There will be no need to worry, Simon.

I’ve waited so long for you. So long for our life to grow, to spend more than a fleeting moment behind a bookshelf like we did when we were young. I’ve sat in every room of our home, praying and wishing for your safe return. I’ve hoped and wished so hard that I feel that the universe no longer hears me. Oh Simon, I’ve waited centuries in the collective almost six years you have been gone from my side. I’m not sure if I can wait any longer.

I will love you forever. Even if you have left this precious Earth, even if your feet still tread upon it. But I can’t wait for a ghost when I have been waiting for my husband almost our entire marriage. My father is stable enough, they believe. He has two months to live. And because I love you, Simon, I will wait exactly one month after the last train arrives in Manchester with a list of soldiers.

And if you arrive when I have gone, I am sorry. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to come back to our home empty handed, even if you are there - because you always leave. You always leave and I have always needed you, Simon. Always. You have hurt me in unimaginable ways, my love, even if you always find your way back home to me. So, just this once - I will be the one leaving. I can’t come back. I won’t come back. I won’t come back to a house that is no longer ours. I will not come back to a house that is just mine.

I love you, Simon Riley. Don’t ever forget it.

Forever yours,

Y/N.

It only took him two minutes to read the letter.

It crumbled into a ball in Simon’s hand, the scarred palm of his right hand stung before he let it fall to the kitchen counter, abandoned.

It had taken him a month and a half to return from a prisoner camp in the Pacific. Alejandro and him were captured on their way back to base, tortured until the camp had finally gotten word that the war was over on the 25th of September. It was October 10th, past how long she would have stayed and waited with bated breath for him to return to her arms.

All he could think of was her. Every burn, slash, gunshot; every time they choked him, beat him, they could not erase the woman that was his wife. She was the only reason why he even made it through, why he was even alive. He had to make it home to her.

And now that he was home? She had gone. Flown from their nest, gone back home to her family. And all he could do was see red. He wanted to punch holes into the walls of his house, scream until his throat bled - but all he did was chase her ghost upstairs, almost busting his bedroom door off of the hinges when he burst into the room. The bed made, lights turned off - he ripped open the wardrobe, seeing that some of her favorite dresses had gone, but not all. Opened the dresser, seeing that it was empty of her belongings and all that was left were his undershirts. Half of them were gone too.

He turned back to the bed, he could almost see her laying there, a smile on her face as she would say, “Come to bed.”

He kneeled, tugging an old suitcase out from under the bed, standing and throwing it open upon the comforter. It was dusted, he didn’t even bother to cough when he rummaged through their papers. He pulled out his passport, flipping it open and seeing a different man upon the page. If this was another day Simon looked at his passport, he would’ve remembered a young man still in the throws of war, but he was still not what he is now. A villain, a monster.

A Ghost.

He slammed the passport closed when he made sure it was still in date. He shuffled through the papers again, seeing that hers was gone - but he began to notice papers that weren’t there before. He began to pull them out, one by one - seeing that they all had the same heading.

Dear Simon,

I don’t know how to

Dear Simon,

I don’t have the

Dear Simon,

I hate this. I can’t hate you. I can’t hate you I can’t hate you I can’t I can’t I can’t

Alejandro was right.

He had destroyed her.

It didn’t take him long to shove the passport in his jacket and bolt downstairs, skipping every other step. He grabbed his packed dufflebag and ripped open his front door, seeing Alejandro jump two feet in the air, dropping his cigarette.

“¡Qué carajo!” He sort of shouted as Ghost stomped past him, throwing his dufflebag on his back. Alejandro pulled closed his front door before running after the speeding Lieutenant. “What the fuck!”

“We have to go.” Alejandro grabbed his wrist but Ghost ripped his arm out of Alejandro’s grip, looking back at the man with a hollow expression. “She went home.”

“Hermano, lo siento.” He spoke immediately but Ghost didn’t stop walking when he turned back around. “¿Qué es lo que haces? Ghost, if she went home, that means-“

The Brit turned on his heel so fast that Alejandro couldn’t react when he was lifted into the air like a toothpick, the grip Ghost had on the man’s shirt sounded like it would rip at any second. He made direct eye contact and spat, “Her father is most likely dead. She can’t lose me too, so shut the fuck up, you muppet.”

Alejandro squawked, Ghost dropped him immediately and turned away, speed walking towards the train station. He called, “You know, I said I would escort you home, not to America!” The man didn’t respond, he just kept walking. Alejandro mumbled to himself before running to keep up, “Querido Señor, por favor, déjame matar a este hombre en un futuro próximo.”

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taglist (thanks for being patient my loves): @oranoyaora @dest-nai @rafaelacallinybbay @belyyvolksblog @its-astrotea-love @redzscare @multitargaryen @efsa-lks @thehoneybunny @punziesworld @fanformany @ivycasket

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sweeterthanhxney · 3 months

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Passenger : Princess👅🌶️🌸🎀🧸🦄✨

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smartdentalcare0 · 6 months

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Dental Hygienist Manchester: What Do They Do? Dental hygienists in Manchester play a vital role in oral healthcare. They perform teeth cleaning services, removing plaque and tartar, which helps prevent tooth decay and gum disease. They also assess patients' oral health, looking for signs of issues like cavities or gum disease. Dental hygienists educate patients on proper oral hygiene practices, such as brushing and flossing, and may provide guidance on dietary choices that impact oral health. Their work contributes to healthier smiles and can help detect early signs of dental problems, enabling timely intervention by dentists, ultimately promoting overall well-being through good oral health.

#dental care manchester #teeth cleaning services #aesthetic treatments #dental hygienist scale and polish #clear teeth aligners

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call-sign-jinx · 1 year

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Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw - Her

Summary - you’re Bradley’s best friend and he tells you who he loves which breaks your heart

Warnings - fluff, swearing, drinking

A/N - hiya me luvlys! how r u luvly people doing today? also, for whatever isn't requested specifically, the reader will always have a northern british accent, like a manchester accent. just a preference sorry ahaha xx

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x fem!reader

Bradley has been my best mate since I moved to America. I moved in right next door to him with my mum and dad and little sister Alya. We moved to America because my dad got a new job and thought it was best for all of us.

Bradley then became my best friend very quickly. The first day we met to be more precise. He stuck up for me when I were getting bullied during my first week of my new school. Some bitch decided to take the piss out of me and Alya cause we’re fucking Polish? Okay mate. Anyway, I’m getting side tracked here.

Bradley stuck up for me and Alya right off the bat. He was so sweet and he gave Alya his lunch cause them kids decided to fucking take her lunch which is just classic stupid ass bully shit from films.

Now god knows how many years later, we’re in the Navy, as Naval Aviators, went to different academies, and we’ve both been called to Top Gun. He was the first person I called to tell him. And I was the first person he called. We immediately went down to our favourite bar to celebrate, Alya coming as well cause she’s part of our group. But in all honesty, me and Bradley are closer.

Currently, me and Bradley are sat in his Bronco on our way to the Hard Deck to meet some of the other aviators. Hopefully there’s another woman there, if there isn’t I’m gonna be too overwhelmed with testosterone. I already get enough from Rooster over here.

Anyways, as soon as I got into the Navy, people gave me the callsign Fox (you can change the callsign and why you got it but I’m going to use this 😊) because “I’m a fox”, meaning I’m sexy, according to everyone at my academy. Which consisted of all men and one woman who was a WSO who soon retired to be with her family after a training scare. God I miss her, her callsign was Nyx. She was amazing. Bradley said I got my callsign because “I look cute but I’m a silent killer”. I like that reason better.

Back to the Hard Deck. Me and Bradley walked in talking about some shit we did back in high school. Which I am not proud of because it mostly consisted of making out with lads and getting stupidly drunk at parties which led to Bradley taking me home while I sang California Love.

As I looked around my eyes instantly landed on a woman with military uniform on and my eyes lit up. I quickly made my way toward her, accidentally leaving Bradley, and introduced myself.

“Hi, oh my God, you don’t know how happy I am to see another female aviator here…” I looked to her name tag and saw her callsign, Phoenix. “Phoenix! I’m Y/N. But my callsign’s Fox. It’s really nice to know I won’t suffer with too much testosterone alone.” I was rambling at this point, but she didn’t seem to mind. She smiled and nodded at everything I said.

“It really is a relief, before you came over here I thought I would be alone with all these guys. And I love your callsign. How’d you get it?” Phoenix gave me a inquisitive look and I smiled remembering the day some jackass gave it to me.

“Because I’m ‘foxy’ then everyone started calling me it and it just stuck. Because of some fucking wankstain that gave it to me.” Phoenix then burst into laughter as I said “wankstain”.

“Guys are like that all the time, especially Hangman over there.” She points to a guy and he looks like a real life Ken doll.

“Just this moment I thought he was a 6’2 Ken doll. He looks fucking plastic. Wondered why the Hard Deck would put a Ken Doll display up in here.” Phoenix then began laughing to the point she had to hold her stomach.

As Phoenix gained composure, I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. I turned to look around and saw Bradley. I smiled up at him and rested my head on his hand.

“I see you’ve already met Phoenix.” Bradley stretched his arm across my shoulder and smirked at Phoenix. Does he like her? Why would I care anyway? Do I care? Does he like her though?

“Yep, and I like her more than you already.” I turned my body to face Bradley and he placed his hand on his heart in mock hurt.

“That hurts my feelings sweetheart, how dare you.” The new nickname brought heat to my cheeks. I looked down to my feet quickly then looked back up to him and put a smirk on my face.

“Aww poor Bradley, come on Phoenix we need to give him a hug. He’s having a bad day today.” I made a pouty face and Bradley just stood there with a pissed off smile.

“Shut up Y/N. You know you love me.” I rolled my eyes as Bradley came up and and hugged me by my side.

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“Bro, I can’t be arsed with getting up so early just to meet who we’re gonna be trained by.” I said to Rooster as he took a swig of the shared bottle of Apple Sourz that I got an hour before meeting up with him in his Bronco.

“Best not be some prick who’s full of himself. I swear if he is and he tries anything wiv me, you, Bob or Phoenix am gonna spark him out.” Bradley lets out a hearty laugh and pats my shoulder.

“You British people sure do have a way with words sweetheart.” There it is again. The nickname. It brings heat up to my cheeks yet again and it’s not dark enough to hide so Bradley can see it.

“Are you blushing Y/N?” I immediately look away as my worries were confirmed. Bradley saw me fucking blush. Great.

“No why?” I pretended to be oblivious to the raging red covering my face. It got even darker as Bradley squinted his eyes at me, getting a better look at the rouge covering my whole face most likely.

"You're as red as a tomato Y/N. Is something wrong then? If you're not blushing then why is your face red?" I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me, I may be called Fox but I don't think I can get myself out of this one.

"It's getting a bit hot? That's why. It's getting hot." Bradley rolled his eyes at my answer. But he didn't press on it any more. We sat in silence for what felt like forever. Until I broke the silence.

"Bradley?" Bradley sat up and turned to look at me before nodding his head for me to continue.

"How come you've never had a long term girlfriend? I'm sorry for asking but I've always wanted to know because, not gonna lie you are quite easy on the eyes so I just don't understand it." Bradley's eyes widened in shock. I was lying when I said he was "quite easy on the eyes" he's fucking gorgeous! He's fucking perfect for God's sake!

I immediately regretted what I said and before he could even open his mouth I blurted out, "Shit! Sorry! I don't know why I even said that. Just ignore it, you don't have to-" Bradley cut me off by putting his hand over my mouth.

"It's okay Y/N/N, I'm fine with answering any questions you have for me. We're best friends after all, aren't we?" I nodded in response.

"It's because I never truly or fully like or love them. There's something stopping me from doing that. Because I like that thing so much better and all I do is compare them to her." My eyes widened and heart broke, he was in love with someone? That's why he's never had a long term girlfriend? Because he's in love with another woman?

"Her?" Is all I could say. Tears threatened to come out of my eyes, I couldn't cry in front of him after he said that. It'd make it obvious that I was in love with him.

"Yeah, and she's amazing, I think I love her in all honesty. She's smart, she's funny, she's beautiful and she's brave..." I had to look away so Bradley didn't see me cry. She already sounds so much better than I could ever be and he only named 4 things about her.

"And she's got a Callsign that she hates but I absolutely love..." He grabbed my chin with his index finger and thumb and made me look at him.

"And do you wanna know what her Callsign is?" I nodded my head, wanting to know this amazing woman who made Bradley swoon for her.

"Fox." My heart literally stopped. I couldn't breath. The tears completely stopped and I couldn't help the massive smile that was painted across my face.

"Me?" I just wanted to confirm it. Confirm I wasn't imagining that he said my Callsign.

"Yes you. You're the reason I've never had a girlfriend for longer than a month. Because to me, you're so much better than all of them combined. And before you ask, the reason I didn't tell you is because I thought that if I had told you, you wouldn't feel the same and it would ruin our friendship. And yes I know that that's what every guy says to his girl best friend in most of the movies we've watched. So don't even comment on that." In response to his confession, I threw myself on him in a big hug that knocked him onto his back on the bonnet of his Bronco.

After I pulled away from the hug, I looked into Bradley's eyes and smiled. He loved me. Bradley fucking Bradshaw loves me!

"I love you too Bradley. I always have and I always will." Before he could reply, I connected our lips as I ran my hand threw his hair. His mustache tickled my top lip and it made me giggle slightly. Bradley almost immediately kissed back as his hands trailed down my torso to my waist and pulled my closer. I swiped my tongue across his bottom lip asking for permission and he quickly allowed it. Bradley then squeezed my waist which elicited a slight moan from my mouth.

When we both finally pulled away, Bradley had a look in his eyes that I've never seen before. I furrowed my brows, confused at his expression. "What?" I questioned him and all he did was smile more than he already was.

"I've just realised that my life is perfect now that I have you. And no one else can have you." I rolled my eyes with a playful smile on my face.

"You have to pop the question before you can say that, Rooster." We both now had the same smirk on our faces.

"Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you be my girlfriend?" He had a charming mixed with excited smile on his face. One I couldn't say no to of course.

"I would love to be." With that, he pulled my into another kiss.

I finally felt at ease with him. He is basically my emotional support animal but a human. He's always been there for me and now he's my boyfriend. I couldn't be any happier than this right now. Nothing can beat what I'm feeling right now.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw fluff #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster #top gun rooster #rooster bradshaw fluff #rooster fluff #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster top gun

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